Archive for the ‘Trifecta posts’ Category

That’s right. It’s finally happened. I can’t think of a single clever title for this Trifecta post. I’m amazed I lasted this long. Anyway this week’s Trifecta prompt was the word crack. More specifically this definition of it:

And here is where I went with it:

Smoke sat on the night sky like an oily film. It obscured the full moon. An ugly curtain over the only decent light. There had been screaming earlier but now everything was silent. It wouldn’t last.

Someone had opened the door, just a crack, and Death had slipped through. Now the door was open, there was nothing to do but breathe. In and out. In and out.

Tomorrow the city would pick itself up and wipe the dried and dusty blood from its hands. They would collect the bodies that had once been friends and family. They would clean away the evidence of what they’d done.

But Sara wouldn’t forget. And she wouldn’t forgive either.

You knew it was only a matter of time. I wrote a Trifecta post with Taisce and Sef. I even made use of every single one of my allotted 333 words this time. Be impressed. This week’s prompt was the word crude:

3: marked by the primitive, gross, or elemental or by uncultivated simplicity or vulgarity

When the last guest had departed and the house was once again quiet, Taisce found Sef sitting on his bed paring slivers of plum with his knife. Fingertips stained pink with its juice. His legs and still booted feet stretched over the coverlet raising wrinkles like waves. Taisce shot them a thin frown but Sef only smiled.

“All done then, milord?” He popped another morsel of fruit into his mouth and smiled.

“It would have gone faster had you helped.”

“I don’t think you care for my variety of helping.”

“No. I don’t generally.”

“Then you have your answer.” Sef raised an eyebrow. “Come. Sit. If you ask nicely I’ll even feed you.”

“You’ll get sticky juice everywhere,” Taisce complained.

It was only after Sef began to laugh that Taisce realized how his words might be taken. His cheeks flamed as pink as the tender flesh of the plum. “Don’t be crude.”

“Twas you that said it, not me, milord. But I’d be happy to oblige in any case. Sit.”

Taisce shot him another warning glare before settling beside him on the bed. It was a rare moment of peace.

He watched Sef turn the fruit against the blade, the movement delicate and precise. When he was done he held up the piece to Taisce.

Taisce scowled.

“Open,” Sef said. “It’s sweet.” As if to prove it his sticky thumb dragged along Taisce’s lower lip, leaving a trail of sweet. His mouth followed a moment later, replacing one flavor with another. The fruit. The tang of wine. Sef’s knuckles dragged along Taisce’s cheek, down to his jaw.

Taisce stopped him there. He wrapped his own hand around Sef’s stained one. “I missed you.”

Sef drew back in mock surprise. “Such honesty from you, milord. Perhaps I should reward it.” He dropped another kiss on his lips. “What is it you would like?”

“Silence,” Taisce said with an answering warmth. Then he wrapped an arm around Sef.

Not another word was spoken that night.

Ha ha, I punned. I’m sorry.

Okay I’m not sorry.

Anyway, this week’s Trifecta prompt was the word rusty, third definition which goes a little something like this:

3a : of the color rust  

b : dulled in color or appearance by age and use <rusty old boots>

And without further ado here’s my entry:

Darkness.

The tang of copper.

Shane sat up with a metallic jangle and a groan of protesting muscle. The air smelled of salt, the same salt that had reduced the walls of his cell to a rusty patchwork that longed to give him tetanus. He shot them a cautious glance but the walls stayed put. So he wasn’t set to be crushed to death. That gave him some hope for the future. The shackles around his wrists and ankles were less comforting. They showed no signs of the wear that his cell did. Their bright silver winked at him mockingly.

What had he done to deserve this?

Then he smiled.

Oh. Yeah. That.

People were awfully touchy about assassination attempts it seemed.

This weekend’s Trifecta challenge was a complete story in 3 sentences. I think I succeeded. Mostly. *nervous*

Seems like a strange color for a murder weapon but the dead guy certainly didn’t stab himself with the pink handled chef’s knife. The cops follow the trail of blood to the bathroom where his wife is still washing her hands.

“Well that settles that,” she says.

This weekend’s Trifecta challenge was to write a 33 word confession. So here’s mine:

My bad handwriting is one part design and one part accident. It used to be neater. Then I realized people could read over my shoulder. I write sex scenes in public you know.

Sounds nice and creepy, doesn’t it? It’s Trifecta time again! This week’s theme was blood and the 3rd definition goes a little something like this:

BLOOD (noun)

3a : lifeblood; broadly : life

b : human stock or lineage; especially : royal lineage <a prince of the blood>

c : relationship by descent from a common ancestor : kinship

d : persons related through common descent : kindred

e (1) : honorable or high birth or descent (2) : descent from parents of recognized breed or pedigree

That was a nice long definition, wasn’t it? You’d think being all about blood that this challenge would have been easier for me. And you would wrong. Again. I am the queen of overthinking. Of course this time it came in handy. I wrote my Trifecta entry about someone who is less near and dear to my heart but still present and accounted for: Hypnos, aka the villain from I’m Just Super (psst, that’s Dade’s book.) So without further ado:

 

There were certain things that went through Scott’s head when he finally tried to sleep at night. Questions, mostly. What if he’d done this different? What if he’d done that? Was he right? Was he wrong? So many “ifs” and “buts” and his personal favorite “why?”

It was the “why” that broke into his dreams and shook him awake time and again. Why? Why had Kurt betrayed them? They’d fought side by side. They were friends, close as blood, or so he’d thought. But Kurt had made his choice and Scott had paid the price. His sister had paid with her life. That was something that couldn’t be forgiven.

Blood demanded blood and Kurt had yet to pay his debt. No matter what he’d done since. No matter how he claimed to have changed. Scott remembered what he’d been. And now they were a pair yet again. Hero and villain. But it was anyone’s guess which was which.

I got home too late to actually post my Trifecta entry (boo) but it seems a shame to let it go to waste. This weekend the theme was 33 word superhero genesis stories, something near and dear to my heart. *coughDadecough* So of course I wrote mine about Dade:

He only wanted to be left alone. To be normal. To lead a quiet life of burger flipping and watching the news without growing terror. But a burger and fries never saved anybody.