Archive for the ‘Writing Challenges’ Category

Giggle. Growl. Hum; hiccup. Whisper. Murmur. Sigh. Plop, plop. Dribble, dribble. Trickle; run. Whistle, whistle, whistle. Giggle. Whisper. Chatter. Chant. Snarl. Shriek. Slap!

“Enough! Get out of my head! I’m trying to sleep!”


Because I have nothing better to do; thinking about the snake scaling the railing on the porch out front; wondering and hoping it won’t make it up to the second story and greet me outside my bedroom door on the balcony, or, heaven forbid, slither all the way up to the roof and then down the chimney to join whatever it is we think might be in there………………..

Welcome to spring. {gagging smiley here} 😆

Here’s my 33 words for this weekend’s Trifecta challenge; week sixty-seven.

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Macy sucked in her breath as awareness dawned.

“This cannot be happening!”

“Um, Macy?” Frank cleared his throat. “Besides your hair still smokin’ like a pissed-on cigar, ah, am I the only one who hears that weird chanting? And your eyes are, uh, seriously buggin’ me out. What the hell is going on?”

The background swirled around her; the blackness threatening to envelop her. She nodded in acknowledgement. She could hear it, too.

This cannot be happening! That wasn’t real prophesy! It was just a tale passed down through the generations! Macy fought her panic.

Macy turned back to Frank, her eyes flat. In a quiet voice, she started,

“The blood is passed nigh on five hundred years;

From one to one, until completion nears.

Ancestors alive;

The blood’s life does strive.

It searches; it settles, it finds its home;

Complete with mate, it halts its roam.”

She stopped and shook her head. “It can’t be!”

Frank sighed.

“Shit, Macy. What now? Damn. They could’ve at least given me a manual before sending me out this time,” he grumbled.

For the first time, Frank’s swearing didn’t faze her. She had bigger problems to deal with.

“Ok. We’re on a stake-out. Then you start chanting, in the midst of your alarm clock going off. Your hair catches on fire, and now I’m starting to hear weird chanting that is not coming from you while I see fires reflected in your eyes. Do I even want to know? Is this going to get me killed?”

Macy twisted the nearly dried wipe in her hands. Drawing a breath to fortify her explanation, she began, as calmly as her shocked nerves would allow,

“I think it’s the curse.”

Frank’s snort was cut off as she continued, “The blood “prophesy,” to be exact. You can blame my mother’s lineage for all of this. If it’s true, don’t hate me or shoot me, Frank, but you’re part of it, too. And yeah, it just might get us killed.”



Hiya. It’s been a while. Lots of stuff has happened since Frank and Macy last occupied these pages. We moved, which means a ton of stuff has been taking my time- painting, horses, kitties, chickens, etc etc. When you live on a farm, there is no shortage of stuff to do. 😆

I’m hoping I can get back into the swing of things, because Frank and Macy have been patiently waiting for their story to be told. 😆

If you’re new or have missed parts to this never-ending saga of fun, start with the last part here or click on this Gunz-N-Roses link here or the tab on each page to read the rest of the story.

In case if you haven’t figured out this week’s word, here it is:

BLOOD (noun)

a (1) : the fluid that circulates in the heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins of a vertebrate animal carrying nourishment and oxygen to and bringing away waste products from all parts of the body (2) : a comparable fluid of an invertebrate

b : a fluid resembling blood

: the shedding of blood; also : the taking of life
  • 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.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.

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Macy’s anger took over. “Gee, Frank, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” she asked sarcastically.

“I’m soooooo sorry you’re stuck with me; your normal garden variety paranormal freak. You know, the one they gave you as a partner in your voluntary involvement on the Mesmeristic Normative Mindvision team in the CIA’s Special Activities Division? You know, that uber super- secret combo special ops team?” She snorted.

She turned and speared him to his seat with her glare. “What? I’m not “normal” enough for you?” Her voice nearly hit a fevered pitch before she reeled it back in. “Did you honestly think you were going to get involved with a team and get a “normal” partner?” she questioningly hissed, air-quoting with her fingers.

“If I didn’t know better, I would seriously think you were a plant, sent in just to mess us all up and get the group disbanded for real. You and I both know that absolutely can’t happen. If I didn’t know you better, I’d start to worry about your intent.”

Truth be told, Macy was getting worried- but not about Frank.

For starters, she was rapid-cycling, something she had never done before in such quick succession. Usually, she picked a time period and stuck with it; either past, present, or future. She couldn’t think of another situation when she had shuffled so quickly between them, and definitely not in such a short amount of time. It was like the time-changing was on speed dial.

She was also trying not to worry about what it meant that somehow, she had sort of taken Frank with her the last time. What he saw in her eyes wasn’t a reflection of what was going on behind him at the gym. Nope. What he saw was the reflection of the explosion that had gotten her hair smoldering.

Weird thing was, it was astral projection not of the present- but of the past. And she had somehow taken him along for the ride.


I’m baaaack! Did you miss us? 😆 

I was really excited when Trifecta gave us the opportunity to just write a few weeks ago. And then life got in the way and I didn’t actually get time to do it. *sigh* 333 words, however, I can crank out pretty easily, fitting it into my morning schedule without too much issue.

If you’re new or have missed parts to this never-ending saga of fun, click on this Gunz-N-Roses link here or the tab on each page to read the rest of the story.

Week 26 of Trifecta’s writing challenge word is:

NORMAL (noun)

1: a : a normal line

b : the portion of a normal line to a plane curve between the curve and the x- axis

2: one that is normal

3: a form or state regarded as the norm : standard

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Packing, packing, packing. I should be packing.

Stress. *sigh*


I should be packing. I should be cleaning. I should be packing.

Why not? Because I’m too stressed out.

That’s why not.

There’s a finite amount of time, and a mountain load of stuff to deal with.


I don’t even know where to start! Every time I think I’ve made a dent, it’s like it’s just found somewhere else.

I climb over once, just to slide down the other side. When I look up, there’s another mountain waiting for me.

I thought I had some inroads made; I really did.

The one main artery that bisected the space collapsed.

Now that part’s cut off completely.


I hope there wasn’t anything there when it happend. I’ll probably never know.

I honestly didn’t think it would stick. They threatened me repeatedly, but I figured nothing would ever happen.

Until it finally did.

And now they tell me I have to move.

The world is ending in three days.


I’m running in circles. If I had a tail, I’d be chasing it.

I can’t do it! I can’t!

I don’t know where to start. There’s no end in sight.

I wanted to ask for help, but I’m too proud. And now look where it’s gotten me.


A lifetime to sift through. 3 days.

I can’t do it. I can’t.


That’s all they see, I know.

That’s what they think, I know.

They try not to show their disgust, I know.



My world is ending in 3 days. I have to move.

I am paralyzed; overwhelmed; defeated.

Because of it. That stuff.


Maybe more will collapse and bury me beneath; cocooned in memories.

That’s it!

I can’t do it. I can’t leave. I won’t leave.

They won’t find me, and it won’t matter.

I see my goal. I hope it shifts. Here it comes; as if on cue.

Ahhhh. I’m safe.

But I can’t breathe-



The prompt for Trifextra’s week 23 is “the world will end in three days.”

Leave me a comment to let me know what you think I’m talking about! 😆

PS- edtited to share that this is fiction. I, personally, am not packing. 😀 But I am pretty sure that if I only had three days to pack and move, I might well be feeling all this. 😆


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Frank grinned in agreement. Only Macy could sit there with smoldering hair, chanting like a witch and then remember wanting wet wipes after licking the frosting from her fingers.

He wasn’t completely unready, though. Stuffing his hand between his seat and the console, his fingers twined down, reaching for his hidden stash.

I’m nothing if not prepared, he thought as his fingers caught the little square packet. Thank goodness for take-out. Although, that wasn’t the best chicken I’ve ever eaten, Frank frowned. Grasping the packet between his fingers, he passed it over to Macy, his fingers lingering a questionable moment longer than necessary.

Macy fumbled as she tried to open the packet. It wasn’t working. Despite her fingers being sticky, she couldn’t seem to get a grip on the corner and rip it open.

Frank watched her trembling fingers. What the hell is going on now, he wondered. Was there something in the smoke from her hair making her high? Is her blood sugar going through the roof because of the cake?

With trepidation, he leaned over, steadying her hands with his. Fingers on the corner of the packet, he gripped and tore. One fluid motion and the packet was open. He waited for her to pull it out.

Aw, hell. What’s happening now? Frank wanted to know the cause of her reluctance to get the contents out of the packet. It almost took him back to another point and time……….

Shaking his head visibly, he said, “Macy? What’s wrong? It won’t bite, you know,” his voice barely audible.

Frank gasped when she turned and looked at him. He could see fireworks reflected in her eyes; confusion, fear, anger- longing? They were all there.

How could he not see? They were so obvious in her eyes; this display of intense conflict.

And then he saw something else. He saw the fireworks of the starry sky become a background for the fireworks consuming the building behind him.

“What the hell did your chanting do?”


Happy 4th of July! It should come as no surprise that the prompt this week for the Trifecta writing challenge (week 34) is fireworks.  😆

If you’re new or have missed parts to this never-ending saga of fun, click on this Gunz-N-Roses link here or the tab on each page to read the rest of the story.

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“Ygron pyr. Igron pyr. Greek fire. Sheesh. You’d think they could pick one name and stick to it, ” Frank muttered under his breath.

“Ygron pyr, ignite!

Igron pyr, take flight!

Greek fire, demands the fight!

Count once more

to even the score,

Live another day

to enter the fray.

To be true and succeed

the enemy must bleed,

All at one time,

the fire is divine!



Take flight!

Ygron pyr, weapon of lore

Igron pyr, even the score 

Greek fire, extinct no more!”

“Shit, Macy? Could you talk in a language I can hear? I mean, understand? When you go all crazy rhyme-y like that, it’s like you’re getting your inner witch on, and I can’t help tune out. It’s seriously like I can’t even hear you unless I concentrate real hard, and then it’s like the earth is laughing beneath my heavy feet, which totally makes no sense at all, whatsoever. And then, in that moment, I lose myself, all wrapped up in the pleasures of the world.

Damn. I really am losing my marbles. I don’t even know where that last bit came from. Seriously?” Frank snorted. “It’s like I’m channeling Smashing Pumpkins or something. I think we’ve been on this stake-out too long. Or we need new music. Or both.”

He gently shook Macy, trying to get her to stop chanting. Eyes wild, Macy’s arms rose above her head, swirling back and forth, as if to conjure spirits from the dead. Dropping suddenly, her hand snaked over the gear shifter and grabbed Frank’s arm with a vice-like grip.

Frank was getting worried. He had never seen her freak out this many times in one day. And he hadn’t ever seen her hair smolder, either. He had a bad feeling that even with his munitions expertise, he might not be able to diffuse the ticking bomb sitting next to him in his car.

“Frankie,” Macy rasped, “I’m sticky. Next time, remind me to pack some wet wipes.”


It’s Trifecta’s 33rd weekly writing challenge! To celebrate, they’ve issued 3 different challenges. If you click on the Trifecta link, you can see all three.

I must confess to being a sucker for a good challenge. If you’ve been reading along, you’ve noticed that each week since I’ve started, I’ve used the prompt within a continuing story, Gunz-N-Roses. Initially, I thought I would write three different parts to this ongoing saga. And then I thought, “What’s the fun in that?” 😆

Yep. You guessed it. I got lazy issued myself the challenge of working all three prompts into a single post that made some kind of sense. Tell me what you think!  😆

I’d like to say all of this was original content; alas, Frank had other ideas. Part of this week’s offering comes to you courtesy of the Smashing Pumpkins.

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The Revolutionary War came. He joined and was killed. But she was still in love!

Binding her breasts, she joined too, disguised as a boy.

Could she make a difference before being discovered?


I haven’t done a Trifextra weekend challenge in a while. Not because of any reason in particular, I suppose. {maybe I’m thinking you’re tired of my drivel? :lol:}

When I first came to this challenge, I initially thought I would have to write about this being an impossible challenge, since I read so much and couldn’t possibly pick just one favorite. The re-writing of a book in 33 words wasn’t too daunting, so long as I could actually pick one. 😆

And then I remembered this book- I’m Deborah Sampson, by Patricia Clapp. As it turns out, I’ve heard that some schools do unit studies on her, which I think is really neat. That’s not how I learned about her, though.

I found this book in our middle school library, and was hooked- hooked so much so that as an adult, I chased down this book and another title (Constance: A Story of Early Plymouth; Patricia Clapp) from my local library, which had to order it from another. After hiding out in my room to finish them, I did pass them on to my oldest daughter who, while she thought they were good, was nowhere near as enraptured as I was.  😆  Oh, how times have changed since I was a kid! {Because, you know, it’s not uncommon for women to be in the military these days}

Both of these books, while fictionally embellished, were based on real women. And while this one (I’m Deborah Sampson) was written at the middle school level, it still addressed more mature issues, like binding breasts and dealing with Aunt Flo.

I rarely re-read books {or re-watch movies, for that matter}, so if I do either, you’ll know that I thought it was pretty darn good!

Here are some links you might like, each with little extra tidbits of interesting information:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deborah_Sampson– has quotes taken from letters to and from her good friend, Paul Revere

http://www.revolutionarywararchives.org/womansoldier.html– shares more information surrounding the discovery of her gender- and how she decided to ‘come out’ after the doctor’s niece fell in love with her

http://www.nwhm.org/education-resources/biography/biographies/deborah-sampson/– really nice overview of her service and life, including information regarding the ‘why’s’ of when she decided to wear women’s clothing again 😉

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Their discussion temporarily lapsed, Macy realized they were in danger. This danger was not just from the blue despair threatening to engulf them both; danger not just from the mystery liquid that was all kinds of flammable; danger not just from the thugs masquerading as reputable business owners; but it was the worst kind of danger- each other.

She doesn’t realize she’s staring at me again, Frank thought. I wonder if she’s in there, or if she’s off somewhere else again.

Does he feel it too? Macy wondered. Does he feel the teetering on the brink; the precipice of no return? Or is it just me? Am I seeing things that aren’t there? Am I feeling the ghosts of past illusions? Macy’s emotions warred with themselves; railed against each other in a desperate attempt to make sense out of that which was yet to come.

“Ah, babe? Earth to Macy, come in please.” Frank’s cupped hands made him sound like he was talking in a muffled cave. Macy knew she was going to have to stop him soon, lest he break into one of his numerous impressions.

She really had no idea when he’d had the time to prefect them, either. She’d always assumed being part of a SEAL team didn’t leave him a whole lot of time for goofing around, but darn if he didn’t have Darth Vader down pat. She had an idea that it might even come in handy at some point.

Frank quirked his eyebrow as Macy got back to the business of eating her cake. He’d never known anyone who could draw out eating a confection like Macy. She sure knows how to savor a treat. She must not be getting much, he chuckled. Oh to be the…….

“So. What are you thinking?”

Frank snapped out of his reverie and tossed her a napkin. As it landed on her knee, Macy finished licking the icing off her fingers. Finally acknowledging the napkin, Macy dried them and sighed.


To read the rest of the story, click on the Gunz-N-Roses link at the top of the page.

It’s week 32 of Trifecta’s writing challenge. Can you guess what the word is this week?

No? Ok, I’ll tell you: blue.

BLUE (adjective)

1 : of the color blue
2 a : bluish <the blue haze of tobacco smoke>
b : discolored by or as if by bruising <blue with cold>
c : bluish gray <a blue cat>
3 a : low in spirits : melancholy
b : marked by low spirits : depressing <a blue funk> <things looked blue>

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“Yeah, babe, I know. I saw what you sent, too. Finish your cake before we head back in.” Frank thought he had enough information to warrant improvising a bit and changing the plan.

“Frankie,” she said, her voice hitching,” This is way worse than just some guns being smuggled with armor-piercing rounds. If we leave and come back when it’s dark so everyone’s gone, we should be able to access the back door, so long as they aren’t unloading anything in the alley.” Macy paused, momentarily forgetting she still had icing smeared on her fingers.

“We have to get a count. I’m not even worried about the guns. Guns I can deal with. But those flower pots are loaded, and I need you to confirm my suspicions.” She took a quick lick of icing.

“Damn. I think they finally did it, Frank. I think they’ve recreated igron pyr.” Macy went back to eating her cake, trying to project a calm facade.

Her cuss word caused Frank to turn abruptly to her, eyes wide. “Greek fire? Shit.” He rubbed his jaw, hands grating over his stubble. “They might have done it. That would explain the gassy, rotten egg sulfur smell, for sure. And if it’s the real deal, they won’t need water, either.”

Macy, while not an explosives expert like Frank, was, however, a history buff. Igron pyr, or Greek fire, was the ancient incendiary weapon of mysterious composition, thanks to the top-secret nature of the recipe, which was heavily guarded and then lost to time. But she knew enough to know that’s what was in all those flower pots, sitting in neat rows.

And she knew she had to get back inside to get a better look, with her own personal eyes. Remote viewing and astral projection were usually pretty accurate, but she needed breadth and depth. She needed scope.

Her gut told her someone had finally figured out the ancient killer formula, and they were going to use it- soon.


To read Frank and Macy’s story in order, click on the Gunz-N-Roses link at the top of the page!

Trifecta writing challenge week 31! This week’s word is:
ALLEY (noun)

1: a garden or park walk bordered by trees or bushes
2a (1) : a grassed enclosure for bowling or skittles

(2) : a hardwood lane for bowling; also : a room or building housing a group of such lanes
b : the space on each side of a tennis doubles court between the sideline and the service sideline
c : an area in a baseball outfield between two outfielders when they are in normal positions
3: a narrow street; especially : a thoroughfare through the middle of a block giving access to the rear of lots or buildings

Please remember:

Good luck, and we’ll see you back on Friday!


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“If I had the energy, I’d cover your mouth. We have big issues to deal with, and the last thing I want to think about is your potty mouth. ”

“Shit. Sorry. You had me totally freakin’ out! You’re sittin’ there dead to the world and then your hair starts smouldering? For a minute I thought the cake sent you into blood sugar overdrive. What the hell- heck- is going on? This day has been entirely too bizarre. Seriously, I need answers.”

“Frank,” Macy sighed, “I’m pretty sure I’m not what you had hoped for in a new partner, but we are stuck until this case is solved. I know you think I’m weird, and I can’t say I blame you. Remote viewing and astral projection were not what I went looking for when they were handing out psychic skills. And honestly, I’m not sure how much more my hair can take. Hmmmm.” She paused.

“Maybe it would actually help us if I shaved it all off and just went bald. Nobody would recognize me if I kept changing wigs.” She flipped her visor down, and opened up the mirror, to survey the damage. With a snort, she pushed it back up, not taking the time to properly close the mirror lid so the lights would turn off.

“Ok. Here’s the deal. You heard them making arrangements to transport the cargo, right?” Without bothering to wait for confirmation, Macy went on. “We knew they were getting ready to move. Now we know the how, and that tells us part of the where. But until today, we didn’t know the what.”

The vein in Frank’s jaw was working overtime. Macy could tell he was doing his best to keep quiet. She needed to explain, without interruption. Once she had given him the information, it was his job to turn his explosives expertise into something they could use. She was pretty sure her pocket alarm clock wasn’t the only one ticking.


It’s week 30 of the Trifecta writing challenge. To read Frank and Macy’s story in order, click on the Gunz-N-Roses link at the top of the page!

On to the weekly prompt. Please remember to use the third definition of the word as stated below.

NEW (adjective)


: having recently come into existence
2 a (1) : having been seen, used, or known for a short time (2) : unfamiliar
b : being other than the former or old
3: having been in a relationship or condition but a short time <new to the job> <a new wife>

Please remember:

Good luck, and we’ll see you back on Friday!

This week’s word is new.

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