Trifecta Week 104 - The Date

“Hi, Jack?”

“Sue, so nice to meet you!”

 

“Know what you want?”

 

“I’d like the Soba Noodle Soup, please.”

“And I’ll have the UFO Tofu.”

 

Senile felines offer unusual entertainment

As two connect.

 

 

 

 

Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?

This week’s challenge: You’ve got exactly 33 words and one of the must be a palindrome. Not sure what one of those is? Look above. It’s a word or phrase that reads the same forwards and backwards. For example, words like mum, mom, refer or sexes etc. Or phrases, such as the one above; or ‘seven eves’ or ‘yo banana boy!’ For some palindromic inspiration and a huge list of them, check out http://www.palindromelist.net/

So, you’ve got your usual 33 words, but you must use a palindrome and to help us out, please highlight it. Thanks!

 

 

 

Trifextra Week 102 - For Eric

Join a fun writing challenge. Click Here!



This week we're asking for exactly 33 of your own words about love gone wrong.  But we're asking that you not use any of the following words: love, sad, tears, wept, heart, or pain.








             
This weekend's challenge is community judged.

For the 48 hours following the close of the challenge, voting will be enabled on links. 

*In order to vote, return to this post where stars will appear next to each link. To vote, simply click the star that corresponds with your favorite post.

*You can vote for your top three favorite posts.

*Voting is open to everyone.

Good luck and happy writing!

 

 

 

 

For Eric

 

Thoughts arise,

Sometimes.

A union,

Once strong,

Now long gone.

 

Times spent

Deep in embrace,

Couldn’t etch

Tumultuousness

To peaceful erase.

 

It wasn’t meant to be,

Or was it?

Such thoughts arise,

Sometimes.

Trufecta Week 111 - Numbers, people, numbers! -BRIGHTEST DAY

Join a creative writing challenge. Trifectawriningchallenge.com - Click here!

I decided to ramble at the end of this posting, instead of the beginning, as I usually do. It seemed more polite. Many just want to get down to business and read your short. I suppose most  are not interested in the ramble. I've spared such the person this week. Of course anyone is welcomed to read it if they are moved to do so.


For the full effect, listen to this song after reading my submission, "Brightest Day". Thanks!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=OoDY8ce_3zk

 

Patrick awoke to find himself in the most peculiar of spaces. It was a feeling felt; not yet seen, but there was an undeniable presence. Soul groggy; memory, deep in a state of forget, he groaned insecurity. The softs of his wrists wiped clear the hardened goo from his bird-like eyes. Wiped, they became overcome with vivid light. The foulest odor he’d ever smelled, permeated through his naked skin, it ached his head. He shivered uncontrollably.

Regaining enough consciousness and strength too stand, he did so. It took only moments to realize where he was, and the place he found himself to be, overflowed his sensory perceptions. Excitement, fear, wonder, all jumbled together in his mind; a melt-down of extraordinary proportions. He was aboard what he came to the tundra to study. Truly aghast.

The ship was enormous. A wide open space, easily three football fields, filled the area. He was alone. The brightly illuminated fabric of the machine was warm as the sidewalk on a summer’s day, but still, he shivered.  His arms cradled his chest, with one hand covering his manhood. He walked, aimlessly in wonder, but thrilled in pursuit of intellect.  

“Relax, friend. You will not be harmed.”

He froze. His ears remained empty. Sound waves did not come. It was silent.

“Who’s there?” He responded, afraid.

Again, a silent answer came; instantaneously, through his cerebral cortex.

“You will be released very shortly. You must relax to overcome fears. There is no place here for fear, friend.”

Patrick began remembering. Taken from his ice lab, he had become the subject of the experiment. They took him to gain insight into his work. Intellectual property he was unwilling to relinquish. Thinking quickly, he began to manipulate his thoughts.

With his mind clearer, he began to sing a song he remembered from a grade school production; “We Are the World”, over and over; again and again.

He awoke shivering in his tent.

Sipping tea near the heater, he hummed the tune; unaware.

 

Word count: Thirty-111

*

Bonus: Rhyme & Reason:

I could have milled this challenge over for a day, or two, but the story I wanted to write could not come at this time. I really wanted to be clever with this important week's number, "111", but early this next morning, fate has me leaving on a jet plane, don't worry, I know when I'll be back again. I'm going for an inspiring visit to my sister's house in Florida.

Our families history of solvable health issues, like high blood pressure, cancer, long-time cigarette smoking habits, diabetes, bad teeth, skin, etc. will be taken on, like the big bully it is, with nutrition at full force! She has agreed to follow the strict juicing regimen I learned from Joe Cross and his documentary, "Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead".

I will be playing the Juice Fairy...actually it'll be a double role. Not only will I have fairy juice wings, I will have nicotine's balls in the grips of my strong and manly fairy hands. I squeeze hard, MF! New name: Juice Fairy, The Smoking Annihilator. I guess I should start searching for a seamstress who specializes in spandex super-hero suits.

The pure satisfaction I gain for going, sharing, teaching, and inspiring, is a peaceful feeling of a legacy left. Dropped on to the betterment of my family, and when it all comes down to it, the whole world.

Love. I love love.

Maybe, when Julie is in her late eighties, entertaining a housefull of great grandchildren, I will make my way into the conversation. I love that thought. Keep it real, keep it real real.

She has decided this to be her reality. I have agreed to play a role.



From God's Emerald art piece,
a new child arises.

A different look,
she realizes. 

Energetic breaking,
bread anew.

A life, sitting patient,
waited for you. 

You are ready now,
the time has drawn near.

Drink love potions,
no more whiskey, no more beer.

You can't help to breathe bad air,
it is a part of our society that doesn't care.

A drag never to be made,
from a cigarette again. Let's Make a Deal in Drag, instead, next year!

Vitamins, juices, supplements and more,
nicotine unfriended; unchained smoke rings fly away, off-key melody.

Dissipate,
Invigorate.

Soon, your taste buds will
be taught to ignore.

Bacon and eggs; meatloaf and
barbequed pork.

Soon, you will learn to sit still with crossed legs, and
empty your mind from the stresses of each day. Focus.

Reality is willing to hand to you,
anything you desire.

Your willing hand,
reaches out to take it.

--SBP

Trifextra 101 Logic of a Struggling Good Tipper

Trifectawritingchallenge.com--Join in the fun! Click here


On to this week's Trifextra challenge.  This week we're asking for 33 of your own words inspired by the following picture.  If you use the picture on your blog, you MUST give proper attribution to the photographer by providing a link to the photo, not just to Trifecta.  Failure to comply will eliminate you from the challenge.

Thomas Leuthard/foster.com/

I am dedicating this to every server who has ever had a "studier" in their section, but most importantly to K.Galloway. She supported a family of 4 working as a waitress in a college town and voiced some disdain concerning poor tipping on a recent FB post. If I had more words to work with, an explanation would have accompanied, such being, it was two o'clock and the place was dead. The person in this picture passed her exam and is now a professional who tips very, very well. 
I've titled the short: "Logic of a Struggling Good Tipper"

Two deuces: Three hours.

Possible rounds: Twelve.

Average check:  Twenty dollars.

My check: Six dollars.

Average tip: Four Dollars.

Tip calculations: Forty-Eight Dollars.

Money in my pocketbook: Thirteen dollars.

Passing this exam: Crucial.

                                                            Thomas Leuthard / Foter.com / CC BY


                                

Trifexta Week 110 - Lovers Illuminate

Join in on the creativity! Click here!

This weeks Challenge is:

QUAINT (adjective)

1:  obsolete:  EXPERT, SKILLED
2a:  marked by skillful design <quaint with many a device in India ink — Herman Melville>
  b:  marked by beauty or elegance
3a : unusual or different in character or appearance :  ODD
  b : pleasingly or strikingly old-fashioned or unfamiliar <a quaint phrase>

Remember:
• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
• The word itself needs to be included in your response.
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
• Only one entry per writer.
• If your post doesn't meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.

After realizing my first published submission (way up in the line) used the word improperly, I erased it and pretty much forgot about it. And then the lovely jowls of insomnia left me pitter pattering away at my insomniac machine and a new entry arose. I hope you like it. Better late than never, right?


Lovers Illuminate

It isn’t much different than I last remembered it to be. The sounds of the gulls, the deep, powerful breaths of the ocean, even the scents of sweet kettle corn, still, after all of these years, remain. My smile grows with the rise of wind-took kites, as they sail beyond the sparse cloud cover and I blink, so every flash of color and every detail of their flight is fresh to my eye, just like we used to see them. Such glorious serenity!

The boardwalk was always a place for congregation, even all of those years ago. It’s where I met him, you know? Right near where that same lone light post separates those two, once wooden, now metal benches. Wood deteriorates, you know? Metal, well I guess it can last, might get a smidge rusty, but it’ll be there years and years from now. Undoubtedly though, the two lonely benches will forever need a light post for romantic night’s snuggled warm with your lover. Lover. It has such a wondrous ring to it, the word, doesn’t it? Sixty-eight years, I had one of them.

The lives we lived, will live on in our extended family. We had only one child, but she proved to be quite productive; happy. Her family was large and gave us the blessings of nine grandchildren. They’ve all grown now, and at last count, which still flutters my heart to this very day, is twenty-three great-grandchildren. Every moment of life has been grand.

Well, I bess try making it over to the lamp post before my back tells me to stop, it’s just right over there, you see? It’s what we both agreed upon, he’ll have to wait for me for a time. I’ve carried this jar from Rochester, can’t stop now. We’ll both be scattered under that lamp, don’t you know? The different, but soon-to-be more quaint benches, will forever need a light post for romantic night’s snuggled warm with lovers. Forever lovers, Eduardo and Leona, illuminated.

Trifecta Week 110 - I Got Hired!

Explore your imagination here! Trifectawritingchalenge.com

Yeah, you would have been excited to have grown up in the carnival too. Who wouldn’t? I got my edumacation from the best in the business. Rosy, The Bearded Lady, taught me how to read and write, even though Rosy was no more of a lady than Stephen Tyler was, he sure could pull it off. He was smart, fatter than an over-fed hamster, funny, and grew up, just like me, in the carny. Out of ‘em all, I miss Rosy the most.

Socco the Clown, taught me, if you want to call it that, about the birds and bees. He was a dirty fuck, though. A fun-painted face, most parents would want to hire to play with the kids at a birthday party, was, underneath all of the paint, a rotten, dirty fuck. He could twist the balloons into just about anything you can think of, and I mean anything.  I’m not one of those guys who think clowns are scary, I’m more like a guy that wants to kick the shit out of every clown I see. Luckily, I’ve long been away from that scene.

The “ride-ops” were all on speed. And I don’t mean just a few. I speak literally. These guys would stay up days on end, setting up and breaking down their machines. After hours, they’d all gather into one of their trailers and party hearty. It still amazes me that the people boarding these rides would trust those guys. One look at their tweeked out face, and toothless smiles, would make me reconsider letting their grungy asses lock me into one of the potentially life-ending rides they built, and for which they are responsible. Uh, uh, no way! But people do.

You’d think I’d’ve gone the way of the carny, growing up in it, and all, but I didn’t. I’m surprisingly, more quaint that those weirdo’s. If I had more time to tell you stories, I would, but I’m running late for an interview. A Youth Councilor.

Trifeta Week 100 Challenge

Love to write? Good practice here!

This weeks writing challenge is to use the beginning five words, "The first time I saw..." and continue writing 33 more words, for a total word count of 38. The catch is that each of your 33 words must be only one syllable.




The first time I saw

You, you were good.

The next time, frail in bed;

Hot head hell.

The first time I cooled 

With a wet rag; you smiled.

 

The last time I saw you; I cried.

Dead.

 

 

I dedicate this poem to the numerous men, women and children who continue to lose their lives from the ravages of AIDS. This quick-spreading disease is far from over. It continues to destroy families and bodies in third world countries, where medicines are not readily available. You CAN help. Visit Topsy.org.za to learn how just a few dollars a month can make a tremendous difference in the lives of people who are still dying of this terrible disease.