Sunday, December 2, 2012
89. 33 words about rebellion and/ or revolt
"You can't make me!" He slams the door behind him. Gone for 10 minutes, seems like eternity.
"I'm sorry, Mom." Big words for an 8-year-old. I brace myself for the teenage years ahead.
MOV
trifecta challenge
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
88. POWER
EXT. BEACH
DAYTIME, LIGHT RAIN
GOD, in the
form of a man dressed in a white seersucker suit, holds a white umbrella and walks
toward SATAN, also in the form of a man wearing a black tuxedo, carrying a
black umbrella.
GOD
You’re early. That’s a first.
You’re early. That’s a first.
SATAN
I wouldn’t want to be late for our meeting.
I wouldn’t want to be late for our meeting.
GOD
So … what’s with the tux?
So … what’s with the tux?
SATAN
I’m celebrating. It will be nice to have people worship me instead of despise me for a change.
I’m celebrating. It will be nice to have people worship me instead of despise me for a change.
GOD
(under his breath)
Don’t get your hopes up. A lot of people despise me.
(under his breath)
Don’t get your hopes up. A lot of people despise me.
SATAN
Okay, let’s get down to business. The swap won’t be for too long, just a thousand years this time. You can do whatever you want.
Okay, let’s get down to business. The swap won’t be for too long, just a thousand years this time. You can do whatever you want.
GOD
Really? You’re not going to micromanage me again? None of this “Don’t make anything worse than it already is”?
Really? You’re not going to micromanage me again? None of this “Don’t make anything worse than it already is”?
SATAN
Worse? You’re talking to me about worse? Ha! That’s rich.
Worse? You’re talking to me about worse? Ha! That’s rich.
GOD
Well, what is your plan, exactly?
Well, what is your plan, exactly?
SATAN
Come on, G, I reread the contract and you know I don’t have to give you specifics.
Come on, G, I reread the contract and you know I don’t have to give you specifics.
GOD
Sure, Satan, I know. I was just asking out of curiosity.
Sure, Satan, I know. I was just asking out of curiosity.
SATAN
I’m going to have fun with it. Some good people are going to win the lottery. A few diseases are going to go away.
I’m going to have fun with it. Some good people are going to win the lottery. A few diseases are going to go away.
GOD
You’re not as sinister as I thought.
You’re not as sinister as I thought.
SATAN
You?
You?
GOD
Well, the people that really deserve to be punished and not forgiven, they’re going to be punished.
Well, the people that really deserve to be punished and not forgiven, they’re going to be punished.
SATAN
Ouch. Well, you do what you gotta do.
Ouch. Well, you do what you gotta do.
GOD
(laughs)
I will. I’m looking forward to it.
(laughs)
I will. I’m looking forward to it.
SATAN
Can you take it easy on the natural disasters though? If I’m playing God, I don’t want to get blamed for that.
Can you take it easy on the natural disasters though? If I’m playing God, I don’t want to get blamed for that.
GOD
Who’s micromanaging whom?
Who’s micromanaging whom?
SATAN
Come on, you know what I mean.
Come on, you know what I mean.
GOD
We’ll see.
We’ll see.
SATAN
Is there anything else I should know?
Is there anything else I should know?
GOD
(reaches in pocket)
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Here are the keys to the other galaxies. You might need to hire some people.
(reaches in pocket)
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Here are the keys to the other galaxies. You might need to hire some people.
********
Friday, October 19, 2012
87. Winners
When we met, you were married. I wished for you. I won.
You met someone else. She wished for you. She won.
I shot you dead. I was acquitted. Guess I win again.
MOV
***
trifecta writing challenge: three wishes with high consequences (33 words)
Friday, October 12, 2012
86. My Brother
“On the
count of three…”
Mom said to me,
I was bursting with excitement—
My brother ran
False start again
Tripping me as he went.
Mom said to me,
I was bursting with excitement—
My brother ran
False start again
Tripping me as he went.
“Ha! You’re
beat!”
said his look,
But he’s a cheat
in my book.
said his look,
But he’s a cheat
in my book.
MOV
*****
trifecta writing challenge: the prompt is "On the count of three"
Friday, September 21, 2012
85. I Am All Three
Mother, wife, writer. Responsible for the playdates, the Target
runs, the lunches packed in a hurry. In
charge of the marriage, the social life, the husband’s dirty socks. And for me, I write.
MOV
***********
trifecta writing challenge: write about one thing that is three things (in 33 words)
MOV
***********
trifecta writing challenge: write about one thing that is three things (in 33 words)
Friday, September 14, 2012
84. Please Let's All Just Get Along
Every morning at the school bus-stop, neighbors battle over politics and money. I'd rather avoid incendiary topics, especially around young children. I tactfully change the subject to one everyone can agree on: religion.
******
trifecta writing challenge: the rule of 3
Friday, September 7, 2012
83. Untitled
The last strains of sunlight
lingered in the corners,
grasping every available point
of refraction.
She slid her fingertips
along the glass
wondering
if this was all there ever was.
Or could be.
Paul approached her,
began to caress her shoulders
the way he did
before they married.
"Awfully quiet, Regina?"
Question
more than statement.
lingered in the corners,
grasping every available point
of refraction.
She slid her fingertips
along the glass
wondering
if this was all there ever was.
Or could be.
Paul approached her,
began to caress her shoulders
the way he did
before they married.
"Awfully quiet, Regina?"
Question
more than statement.
"I still miss him," wept Regina,
"Max was a good fish."
MOV
******
trifecta writing challenge: finish the story
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
82. Running Late Again
The absence of time was not really an issue for Becky
now. The plane flew away without her on
it. She could go back to the newsstand and
buy her magazine after all.
MOV
*****
trifecta, the word is "absence" (33 words)
Sunday, September 2, 2012
81. Three Little Words (Four)
Robert Frost once said, “In
three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”
In three words
I can sum up everything I’ve learned about driving: staying awake helps.
Art: drawn by me |
But: wait! There’s more!
(Not for the contest; they're just for fun.)
·
Proofreading: not realy neccesary
·
Dogs: furry unconditional
love
·
Spontaneity: better when
planned
·
Sports: playing trumps
watching
·
Fire: don’t play with
·
Money: fun to spend
·
Chocolate: craved all day
·
Wine: helpful social
lubricant
·
Travel: buy a map
·
Science: all about
catalysts
·
Children: can teach adults
·
Computers: back-up
your files!
·
Parties: be fashionably late
·
Virgos: like things neat
·
Fashion: short skirts
rock
·
Exercise: it takes effort
·
Diets: they never work
·
School: follow the rules
·
TV: waste of time
·
Religion: causes most wars
·
Investing: pays you dividends
·
Weddings: fun to crash
·
Drugs: can ruin lives
·
Cancer: kills good people
·
Death: sorrow never fades
·
Repetition: sign of
laziness
·
Hoarding: buries
emotional issues
·
Repetition: sign of
laziness
·
Hawaii: tropical paradise
found
·
Sleep: kids steal it
·
Humor: motivates my
writing
MOV
***********
This was another Trifecta writing
challenge. I would love to know which one
on my list YOU like best!
Friday, August 24, 2012
80. Good-bye, My Love
She spidered
her way
through the dark hall
past the sleeping baby.
She would leave now
Her husband’s heart would plummet
tomorrow.
through the dark hall
past the sleeping baby.
She would leave now
Her husband’s heart would plummet
tomorrow.
She knew
this
But she still had to.
But she still had to.
She is
me.
MOV
************
fiction, people! no worries! (plus my babies are 8 and 6 now)
trifecta writing challenge: in 33 words, use an animal as a verb. hopefully a spider can be considered an animal?
trifecta writing challenge: in 33 words, use an animal as a verb. hopefully a spider can be considered an animal?
Friday, August 17, 2012
78. My Prince Charming
“Michelle,
you have to get out there!” squealed Lisa energetically.
Lisa had more verve than anyone had a right to. In a perverse way, I semi-secretly wanted to set her up with Nick because I knew that she would literally exhaust him. That would bring me great pleasure: to see something (or someone) wear him out. Nick was one of those people who seemed overly-caffeinated, even at night.
I could not be mad at Nick. Not mad at him in the usual way of divorced people, I mean. There was no other woman lurking stereotypically in the shadows, no shocking confession of homosexuality, no mid-life crisis, no sudden health scare. Christ, we were only 26 when we divorced, we had plenty of time to open up a … what is it called …
“New chapter,” enthused Lisa, while scavenging through my dried-out lipsticks. “You need to start over. What’s it been now, over two and a half years?”
“Three years and one month,” I corrected.
I was not up to the task of a “new chapter.” I liked the old chapters, the ones Nick and I had written together. Although Nick had been the one to initiate the divorce thus breaking my trusting heart into a thousand impossible shards, I still harbored a deep love for him. Ah, absence does not make the heart grow fonder—rejection does.
“… and then he told her he got fired! Can you believe it? On their first date!” Lisa laughed heartily at the punchline of her own joke.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Michelle, are you even listening to me? Geesh. How about this black silk camisole? Look—it still has the tags attached. Try it on.” She reached into my closet and handed me the familiar garment; I immediately began to cry.
“I can’t wear that,” I sniffled, “I bought it to wear for Nick, and the night I was going to wear it, he announced our separation.”
Lisa balled up the camisole, hanger and all, and shoved it in the trash basket.
“Well, we don’t need memories like that inhabiting your closet, do we?” she said efficiently, as she wiped her hands together, as if she had just assassinated a particularly troubling military foe instead of merely tossing away an offending piece of fabric.
“Lisa, go without me tonight.” I pulled my greasy hair back into a ponytail in my hands and knotted it together with a stray rubber-band. “I’m sorry. I am, really.”
Lisa put her hands on her hips, a mannerism I had seen Lisa’s mother do countless times when we were growing up.
“Michelle, he’s out there! Husband #2 is out there, waiting for you. But he’s never going to find you here—” she paused and made a sweeping hand gesture toward the living room, like the girl on The Price Is Right, “—while you’re holed up watching re-runs of Will & Grace.”
At his moment, I hated Lisa and all that she stood for. What romantic fairy tales did she subscribe to? I was going to meet Prince Charming in a … bar???
“I’m not saying you’ll meet Prince Charming tonight, in a bar,” this was an unnerving trait Lisa possessed, the ability to read my mind with eerie accuracy, “what I am saying is this: You will never find a guy while you sit at home. Think of it as exercise for your dating muscles. You are training for the marathon of finding the right guy, and let me tell you, he is not going to knock on your door while you are home alone watching TV.”
She picked up her sequined purse and walked out the front door, which she slammed. She was trying to be dramatic, but she forgot her car keys. She came back in.
“Think about what I said, Michelle, you know I’m right.”
She left for good, and I clicked on the TV. An episode of Will & Grace was just ending. I noticed that Will looked slightly green, so I scribbled a Post-It note to myself:
Buy new TV. Call cable guy. Tomorrow!!
I underlined “tomorrow” and added exclamation points to make it seem more official, like a vow. I, Michelle Norris, do solemnly swear to have and hold you, and to keepeth my love for your remote control as long as we both shall live. Amen.
You will never find a guy while you sit at home.
Thank you to the brilliantly talented Youngman Brown for the invitation. And thank you to Dude Write for allowing a “Dudette” to submit a story. I am honored. And humbled. And maybe a little bit drunk. But mostly honored.
Lisa had more verve than anyone had a right to. In a perverse way, I semi-secretly wanted to set her up with Nick because I knew that she would literally exhaust him. That would bring me great pleasure: to see something (or someone) wear him out. Nick was one of those people who seemed overly-caffeinated, even at night.
I could not be mad at Nick. Not mad at him in the usual way of divorced people, I mean. There was no other woman lurking stereotypically in the shadows, no shocking confession of homosexuality, no mid-life crisis, no sudden health scare. Christ, we were only 26 when we divorced, we had plenty of time to open up a … what is it called …
“New chapter,” enthused Lisa, while scavenging through my dried-out lipsticks. “You need to start over. What’s it been now, over two and a half years?”
“Three years and one month,” I corrected.
I was not up to the task of a “new chapter.” I liked the old chapters, the ones Nick and I had written together. Although Nick had been the one to initiate the divorce thus breaking my trusting heart into a thousand impossible shards, I still harbored a deep love for him. Ah, absence does not make the heart grow fonder—rejection does.
“… and then he told her he got fired! Can you believe it? On their first date!” Lisa laughed heartily at the punchline of her own joke.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Michelle, are you even listening to me? Geesh. How about this black silk camisole? Look—it still has the tags attached. Try it on.” She reached into my closet and handed me the familiar garment; I immediately began to cry.
“I can’t wear that,” I sniffled, “I bought it to wear for Nick, and the night I was going to wear it, he announced our separation.”
Lisa balled up the camisole, hanger and all, and shoved it in the trash basket.
“Well, we don’t need memories like that inhabiting your closet, do we?” she said efficiently, as she wiped her hands together, as if she had just assassinated a particularly troubling military foe instead of merely tossing away an offending piece of fabric.
“Lisa, go without me tonight.” I pulled my greasy hair back into a ponytail in my hands and knotted it together with a stray rubber-band. “I’m sorry. I am, really.”
Lisa put her hands on her hips, a mannerism I had seen Lisa’s mother do countless times when we were growing up.
“Michelle, he’s out there! Husband #2 is out there, waiting for you. But he’s never going to find you here—” she paused and made a sweeping hand gesture toward the living room, like the girl on The Price Is Right, “—while you’re holed up watching re-runs of Will & Grace.”
At his moment, I hated Lisa and all that she stood for. What romantic fairy tales did she subscribe to? I was going to meet Prince Charming in a … bar???
“I’m not saying you’ll meet Prince Charming tonight, in a bar,” this was an unnerving trait Lisa possessed, the ability to read my mind with eerie accuracy, “what I am saying is this: You will never find a guy while you sit at home. Think of it as exercise for your dating muscles. You are training for the marathon of finding the right guy, and let me tell you, he is not going to knock on your door while you are home alone watching TV.”
She picked up her sequined purse and walked out the front door, which she slammed. She was trying to be dramatic, but she forgot her car keys. She came back in.
“Think about what I said, Michelle, you know I’m right.”
She left for good, and I clicked on the TV. An episode of Will & Grace was just ending. I noticed that Will looked slightly green, so I scribbled a Post-It note to myself:
Buy new TV. Call cable guy. Tomorrow!!
I underlined “tomorrow” and added exclamation points to make it seem more official, like a vow. I, Michelle Norris, do solemnly swear to have and hold you, and to keepeth my love for your remote control as long as we both shall live. Amen.
The
following week, my apartment had one new TV, one new remote, and I was having a
sexy little flirting session with the very hot cable guy from Venezuela.
Do I even
need to tell you that we dated for eight steamy months before we eloped? Lisa was my Maid of Honor, and while she
smiled at me taking my vows, I remembered her silly warning: You will never find a guy while you sit at home.
MOV
*********Thank you to the brilliantly talented Youngman Brown for the invitation. And thank you to Dude Write for allowing a “Dudette” to submit a story. I am honored. And humbled. And maybe a little bit drunk. But mostly honored.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
77. Lulu and Jack
Lulu walked
down the street, looking back over her shoulder as if Jack might reappear at
any moment. “That’s silly,” she told
herself, “it’s not like he’s a ghost!”
She replayed their last conversation over in her head, like her brain was the TV screen and she merely had to flick the remote control: rewind. “Lulu, I want us to move in together. You are all I think about every moment of the day, and I need to wake up next to you.”
***********
trifecta writing challenge: the word is "home" and the story is 333 words exactly
She replayed their last conversation over in her head, like her brain was the TV screen and she merely had to flick the remote control: rewind. “Lulu, I want us to move in together. You are all I think about every moment of the day, and I need to wake up next to you.”
Every moment
of the day? Gah, I hope not, she
thought. He is a pilot, for goshsakes,
he’s going to crash his plane and kill a bunch of people if he is that easily
distracted.
Lulu couldn’t
tell the difference between an innocent compliment and full-blown obsession,
she just knew she felt suffocated.
Right after
he said it, she broke it off. “It’s best
if we stop seeing each other for a while,” she uttered, or some such nonsense cliché. “It’s me, not you.”
But what
might life have been like if she stayed with Jack? Where would he have taken her
(literally)? He had good seniority with
the airlines; he was always jetting off to Japan or Paris or someplace else she
had only seen in movies.
She snapped
back to the present moment when she tripped on an uneven spot in the
sidewalk. A woman with three dogs walked
past her, mumbling something about red and blue dots and a man named Jim. Lucky girl, she has a man that doesn’t make
her feel like running away.
Lulu glanced
at her watch: 7:30 PM. Good, no one will be here now, she
thought. She walked in the pristine lobby
and approached the bank of elevators.
She pressed the button and waited.
She stepped in and rose to the 15th floor.
The
receptionist was still there. “Lulu,
welcome back. You weren’t gone long this
time.”
Lulu grinned
wide and finally exhaled. Her
office. Her work. Her salvation.
Her
home.
***********
trifecta writing challenge: the word is "home" and the story is 333 words exactly
Friday, August 10, 2012
76. The Brown Bunny
The brown bunny:
a soft pet for Josh,
a sweet companion for me when Josh died,
and dinner for Mike after another bitter fight.
(I would not have eaten it had I known.)
*****************
trifecta writing challenge: 1 object, 3 ways, 33 words
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
75. The Dog Walker
I pick up
the first dog, Sammy. “With two ‘M’s,” the
owner tells me. I nod.
Nobody is
home at the next house, so I search through the keys until I find the right
one. Red key, blue key, green key. Jim helped me put the colored dots on
them. I hear the dog barking
inside. I open the door and he lunges at
me, leash already in his mouth.
The third
dog, small and fang-faced, I do not like.
He bit me once, and I worry that he’ll do it again. I tell him he’s a good dog, but it’s a
lie.
I instinctively
reach in my jacket pocket to make sure I remembered the plastic bags. I checked before I left my apartment, but I
can’t exactly remember if that was today or yesterday. What if I forgot the bags? That would be bad.
I walk the
dogs down the street, a tangle of wagging tails and furry legs. They pull on their leashes, stop near some bushes,
bark at a squirrel.
We are on a
shady path that winds through buildings and toward a park. I smile at other people with dogs, and I
wonder if they think all three dogs are mine.
Three dogs! Who would own
three!
I like my
job. I like that I can think when I walk
and no one will demand anything from me.
I look up at the sky and feel the fresh air on my skin. It feels good to be outside.
My mother told
me this was the only job I was qualified for, I don’t know what she meant by
that. She said it right before she got
on her flight back to Montreal. Dana,
you will always be a dog walker. You are
too stupid to do anything else.
I think she must
have meant it in a nice way.
The second
dog has to poop, so he stops at the edge of the sidewalk and squats. I wait.
****************
trifecta writing challenge: the word is "flight", my word count is 333 words
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