Trifecta 33-Word Writing Challenge: Why I Write

Hello Dear Readers!  Time for The Trifecta 33-Word Writing Challenge in which we were prompted to write 33 words about why we write.

Why I Write

Oh there once was a woman of sixty

Neither born nor raised in Poughkeepsi

But she must write a book

Before death pulls its hook

Or at least before she breaks a hipsi

“Oopsy! I think I just broke my hipsi!”

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta 33-Word Writing Challenge: My Dinner Party in Honor of Felicia Felix-Mentor

Hello Dear Readers!  Today we have a Halloweenie Trifecta Writing Challenge.  Our challenge is to write a 33-word response to the story of Felicia Felix-Mentor.

In 1937, a naked woman was found limping through the streets of Haiti.  Upon interrogation, she was unable to give any details as to her identity.  The woman was eventually identified in hospital as Felicia Felix-Mentor.  The only issue is that Felicia Felix-Mentor had been dead for nearly twenty years.  Felicia was, therefore, a zombie.

My Dinner Party in Honor of Felicia Felix-Mentor

Felicia Felix-Mentor stared straight ahead fingering her Beef Stroganoff.

“More tea Felicia dear?” I asked.

“I’m dead.” Felicia repeated for the hundredth time.

I sighed and resigned myself to a very long evening.

Nobody could ever get a rise out of Felicia Felix-Mentor, that is until the day she rose from the dead!

Until next time . . . I love you

Trifecta 33 Word Writing Challenge: The All Important Call from HGTV

This Weekend’s Trifecta Challenge is to describe something that is three different things at the same time:

The All-Important Call from HGTV

Mr. Pumpkineater?


HGTV here! We’re featuring your house on: Homes You Can Live In  . . Imprison Your Wife In . . . AND . . .  Eat in an Emergency!


Who’s that honey?

Nobody.  Go back to sleep. 

“What are you looking so smug about?”

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

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Trifecta Weekend Challenge: F Scott Fitzgerald Has an Emergency!

This week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to take a beautiful piece of writing and “move it along” with our own 33 words.  Well, OK, but it isn’t going to stay as pretty I’m afraid!

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.

Suddenly three burly men thundered in.”We’ve come for the last strains of sunlight — F.  Scott Fitzgerald is having a literary emergency!”  And they began prying sunlight’s fingers from all available points of refraction.

“Oh good! Here come the guys with the sunlight! We can go swimming now!”

Until next time . . . I love you