Thursday, October 31, 2013

Bad Company

 Trifecta: Week 101 

On now to our weekly prompt.  It's our last Halloween-inspired prompt of 2013, and we can't wait to see what you've got in store for us.  Please remember that we are looking for the third definition of our prompt word.  Please also note that we need the word exactly as it appears below.  No tense changes allowed.  Good luck!


1 (interjection)
used to express contempt or disapproval or to startle or frighten

2 (noun)
a sound that people make to show they do not like or approve of someone or something

3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly

It started with misplaced objects.  Candy would hang her keys on the hook, or lay her glasses on the bedside table.  When she went to retrieve them, they'd gone missing.  She would find the items eventually, in strange places.

At first, she ignored the implications.  But as the places she found her belongings became odder and odder, she began to believe something outside the normal was happening.

Candy would return home to find all the kitchen cabinets wide open, or all the books in the bookcase turned backwards.  All the classic signs of a haunt.  She wasn't overly concerned, in fact, she began to carry on one-sided conversations with her invisible house mate.

"You know, this is annoying.  Why don't you be useful and wash up the dishes."  She never received a reply, and felt she had nothing to fear.

However, any guests she had found plenty of things to fear.  They were poked, had chairs pulled from under them, or saw shadows where there shouldn't have been any. They all left hurriedly, and nothing could convince them to come back for a visit.  

"You have to leave my friends alone!"  Candy received her first reply in the form of a malicious chuckle.  

The activity ramped up after that.  Candy wasn't feeling so fearless anymore.

She burned sage, sprinkled salt, recited prayers, and demanded the spirit leave.  She was rewarded with more chuckles and even a ghostly raspberry.

Candy finally convinced on more friend to visit.  He stopped by on a particularly blustery day.  

"Thanks so much for coming over, I'm out of ideas," Candy said as she took his coat and scarf.

"Not a problem at all.  Ready to get started?"  He straightened the collar at his throat.

From the far corner of the room, they heard a subdued voice intone, "Well, boo."

Sunday, October 27, 2013

No Longer on the Honey-Do List

Trifextra: Week Ninety-One

It’s now time for some Trifextra fun. Thirty years ago, Roald Dahl published the book Dirty Beasts, a collection of poems for children about weird and wonderful animals. The last poem, however, is called The Tummy Beast about a boy who thinks there’s someone living in his belly. Your Trifextra challenge is to write 33 words on a beast in an unusual place. No swamps or forests or caves, we really want you to take your beast out of its comfort zone. - See more at:

"Get your coat! We gotta go!"


"You know the beastly hair clogs I'm always fishing outta the bathroom sink?"


"Well, this one just climbed out by itself and snarled at me."

Friday, October 18, 2013

No Powerful Magic

Trifextra: Week Ninety 

Congratulations to the winners of Week 99!!

On now to our quick little Trifextra prompt.  Katherine Paterson, author of Bridge to Terabithia, wrote, “It's like the smarter you are, the more things can scare you.”  We are looking for a 33-word explanation of what scares you (or your character). - See more at:

I've searched all the mystical places I've built inside my mind.

And weep, for there is no spell, nor enchanted sword
To protect the children from the monsters that walk here 

Among us 

Thursday, October 17, 2013

A Dose of Bravery

Trifecta: Week Ninety-Nine
This week we are giving you a page from the Oxford English Dictionary.  The ninety-ninth page, to be exact.  (Click to enlarge.)  From this page, you can choose any word, any definition, to use in your post.  (Please type your chosen word in bold, so we know.)  And instead of our typical 33-333 word limit, we are asking for 99 words exactly. - See more at:

Write at the Merge, Week 42

Your inspiration this week comes from the words “anticipation” and “leap.”

Two prompt muddled together this week. Here goes....

She measured the cinnamon with an iced tea spoon and half a thought. Added it to the brown sugar and nutmeg nestled atop a dollop of butter. She used he same spoon to lightly blend.

Her tea kettle began to hum over the flame, She anticipated the whistle of the imminent boil.

She poured Bacardi into the over sized mug, perhaps a little more than the recipe called for, then added the heated water, perhaps a little less.

Her story glowed from the laptop screen.  With a leap of faith, she hit publish.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Fine Print

Trifextra: Week Eighty-Nine

It's October and the folks at Trifecta are making it a fun month for me, cause I love the weird and wacky.  Or is that wacko?

This week we're asking for 33 of your own words inspired by this classic song by The Rolling Stones.  Good luck! - See more at:

"We had a deal, my dear.  One favor, one soul."

"Yes, Luc, but evidently, you misunderstood.
You got to unleash death and destruction, I get your soul. 
Mine went missing some time ago."

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

The Apocalypse is Coming

Trifecta: Week Ninety-Eight

I may have gotten silly for the weekly prompt,  using the THIRD definition of the word, as always. 

usually zombi
a :  the supernatural power that according to voodoo belief may enter into and reanimate a dead body
b :  a will-less and speechless human in the West Indies capable only of automatic movement who is held to have died and been supernaturally reanimated
b :  a person markedly strange in appearance or behavior
a :  a person held to resemble the so-called walking dead;especially :  automaton
- See more at:

Earl watched through beer bleary eyes as Lester drew the cue back unsteadily.   As he took the shot, the waitress yelled over the blast of the jukebox to the bartender "Zombies!  I said they're serving zombies down at that new place."  Lester's head popped up as the stick made an angry gouge in the felt.

Lester! What're doin'?  You want Dusty to throw us out agin?" Earl looked over his shoulder to the bar. 

"Din't ya hear that, Earl?" Lester whispered loudly,"They's zombies at that new dive!"

"Zombies?  Like in the pocky-lisp?" 

"Tha's what she said!"  Lester grabbed Earl sleeve, "We got to do sumthin'.  You still got yer chainsaw in the truck, Earl?"

Earl's eyes widened with a mix of brew bravado and terror, "Yep, I do, Lester.  She's all gassed up an' ready to go."

"Then le's do this!"  Lester hefted the pool cue over his shoulder, gave Earl a thumb's up, and the pair staggered out the door.

"Where they goin'?" asked Dusty.

The waitress shrugged, "I dunno. Maybe down the road for that half-price zombie special."

"I'd fixed one for 'em if they'd asked." Dusty said as the jukebox's blared out Flirtin' with Disaster.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

No Escape

Trifextra: Week Eighty-Eight

Congratulations to the winners this week! 
This weekend's prompt.  As you know, Trifecta has a history of dedicating the entire month of October to Halloween.  We're kicking it off early and easy with this prompt: You've found some old books.  On page 3 of one of the books, this illustration appears: - See more at:

Damned dryads!
Licking her wounds, she eyed the swamp.

The forest was out, she'd have to swim.

A mossy creature popped from below the surface.
"The nereids said to tell you, no passage!"

Thursday, October 3, 2013

Wish Upon a Star

Write at the Merge, Week 40 

Cameron gave us two photos for inspiration this week.  You can find them here

"Why're we here again, girlie?"

"We are looking for the wulver that has chosen this place as its hunting ground, Liam."  Anne Marie sniffed the air at the street end of an alley.  "It's what I do."

Liam looked over her shoulder.  "Ye doona need ye're nose, sweetling, there's light enough ablazin' to see fer miles."

The pair continued down the avenue, at each alley, Anne Marie tested the scent.  So far, she'd found no hint of the werewolf she was hunting.

"I say ye're searchin' the wrong side a town, Annie.  No wolfman worth his hide would hunt in this light.  Ye canna even see the star through this sodium bathed backwash."

"What are you blathering about, Liam?"

"Stars, Annie, I canna see the stars."

"What stars?"

"My point exactly, lass."  Liam laid a hand on her shoulder, "Annie, let's go back to the old land.  I still own the manor..."

"The ruins of a manor, Liam, you haven't been there, in what?  Centuries?"

"All the better, no electric lights to block the stars."  Liam cocked a half smile, "Remember when we used ta sleep in the wilds, Annie.  Nothin' fer miles.  No light, just the faint glow of the dyin' cook fire.  No horns blarin', just the song of crickets and tree frogs, leaves whisprin' secrets to each other."

"Liam, are you alright?"  Anne Marie looked at her oldest acquaintance suspiciously. "You have fed recently, haven't you?"

Liam sighed, "Yes, pet, I have.  Ye needn't remind me what ye think of my condition."

"Alright then, let's get back to the business at hand, shall we."  Anne Marie returned to her hunt, sniffing the air and peering down alleys.

"Aye, Annie, the business at hand." Liam gazed into the sky, seeking the light of a distant star. 

Canning Season

Trifecta: Week Ninety-Seven

Congrats to last weeks winners!  This will be my first Trifecta post in too long.  I've been sneaking into the Trifextra Weekend, cause 33 words has seemed more do-able.  I do hope I got the gist of this week's prompt correct.
And here it is:
This week's prompt word is inspired by a less-than-inspiring few weeks in the life of at least one (no more than three) Trifecta editor(s).  If this type of language is not your thing, don't worry.  There aren't too many more swear words with third definitions in our dictionary, so we can guarantee Trifecta won't always be not safe for work.  If it is your thing, well, give us your best.


1. (noun): any of several hardy gregarious African or Asian perissodactyl mammals (genus Equus) smaller than the horse and having long ears; especially : an African mammal (E. asinus) that is the ancestor of the donkey

2.  (noun):
a. often vulgar : buttocks —often used in emphatic reference to a specific person <get your ass over here> <saved my ass>
b. often vulgar : anus

3. (adverb/adjective) often vulgar—often used as a postpositive intensive especially with words of derogatory implication <fancy-ass>

Don't worry about the big, three-dollar-word language of 'postpositive intensive'.  Basically, we are asking for something similar to the example.  Think: pansy-ass, fancy-ass, smart-ass, dumb-ass.  This week, your prompt word may be used, as in the above examples, as a suffix.  We aren't hung up on the 'postpositive' aspect of this definition, and you don't need to be either.  (Though it's really not difficult to figure out.)
- See more at:

I loved Grams to death.  As a boy of nine, nothing was better than sitting in her kitchen eating her homemade apple pie, warm from the oven, with a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream on it.

As much as I loved Grams, I hated her cellar.  I hated it from the ratty-ass wooden door that was tucked in the corner next to her old wheezy fridge to the dirt floor at the bottom of the creaky steps.

There was something down there.  My mother rolled her eyes.  My dad said to grow up.  Gram just said it was a cellar and the only thing down there was jars, full and empty.

I spent two weeks at Grams my tenth summer.  We ate warm pie and played cards and picked apples.

Picking apples meant canning apples. Which meant getting jars, from the cellar.

Grams could tell I wasn't keen on the idea, but she just shooed me along with the assurance nothing was down there except the jars.

It was the sixth trip that was the "charm", I was feeling cocky by then.  There wasn't anything down here.  I was just a kid last year when I thought that.

Just as I was thumbing my nose at that silly nine year old, I felt a cold hand on my arm.  I spun around to my worst fear. 

A face red as flame with long jagged teeth framing a forked tongue.  I tried to inhale enough breath to form a shriek, but choked on my fear.  The monster gripped my arm tighter and began to pull me closer.

I was going to die in Grams cellar.

I heard a sound like a bell being rung.  The thing let go of my arm, and simply melted away.

And there stood Grams, an iron skillet in her hand.  

"C'mon, boy,"  she said, "I told you, there's nothin' here but jars, and the apples are waitin'."