Trifecta: Week Eighty-Six
Write at the Merge Week 29
Master Class Summer Edition #3
Congratulations to the weekend winners! There were some great writing processes, some I may implement.
I've lost my mind or just gone plain crazy. I opted to combine three prompts this time. I hope they work. I listed the prompts at the end.
I'm revisiting Anne Marie and Liam. Most of the the stories I write about them are character studies. This is how I get to know more about them. So on to the story...
"Annie, sweetling! Come meet me friend Rosie!" Liam kicked the door open as he bellowed. He dragged his new friend into Anne Marie's kitchen, then proceeded to rifle her pantry. "D'ya not have anything ta eat, lass?"
Anne Marie leaned against the door frame leading to the parlor. "There is food, Liam, root vegetables and herbs. But, oh dear.... likely nothing to your tastes." She eyed Rosie as Liam continued to search for meat, preferably raw, and perhaps a bit rancid.
"Rosie" stood at the kitchen table looking bored while absently running one long pink fingernail along a crack in the surface. Unnaturally blond hair danced across broad shoulders clad in the soft black leather of a form fitting leotard. A low slung belt sported assorted bulging pockets. The outfit was completed by knee high, shiny, black boots with three inch heels.
Rosie caught Anne Marie's gaze. "Liam says you're a hunter, too. I guess I expected someone...ya know, taller."
Liam threw an arm around his new partner, "Now, Rosie, doona judge a book, girlie."
Disengaging Liam's arm, Rosie sauntered toward Anne Marie, "What gear do you prefer, Annie?"
"I prefer Anne Marie. And I don't pack gear, I use what's at hand."
"Isn't that risky?"
"Not as risky as those boots. They're barely made for walking, useless for running."
Rosie snorted, "I don't run. Annie."
Liam stopped rummaging to watch the interchange, "Now lassies..."
One swift move and Rosie lay across the table, the point of a large butcher knife aimed between wide blue eyes. Anne Marie sniffed, then raised her brows in surprise. Releasing Rosie, she tossed the knife aside, "Get out, both of you."
Liam rushed Rosie toward the door, "C'mon, girlie...wha....Rossamund! By the gods, lass, ye've wet yerself!"
Anne Marie sighed. Nothing worse than an amateur hunter. Except perhaps a foolish ghoul, trying to make her jealous with his new partner.
Should she tell him his new playmate, Rossamund, was a boy with a girl's name?
Write at the Merge..."This week, we’re offering a photograph — feel free to use any or all of the items in the photo as part of the prompt."
The Master Class.....
From Trifecta 'Writing Challenge....
CRACK
1a : a loud roll or peal <a crack of thunder>
b : a sudden sharp noise <the crack of rifle fire>
2: a sharp witty remark : quip
3a : a narrow break : fissure <a crack in the ice>
b : a narrow opening <leave the door open a crack><cracks between floorboards> —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out <a player who fell through the cracks in the college draft> <children slipping through the cracks of available youth services>
4a : a weakness or flaw caused by decay, age, or deficiency :unsoundness
b : a broken tone of the voice
c : crackpot
5: moment, instant <the crack of dawn>
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.LETuMiLK.dpuf
