Tag Archives: Trifextra

Cow in the road

Posted on by February 25, 2020

I spent my childhood chasing other people’s cows. The farmers who rented our fields were supposed to keep up the fences, but they never did. And the cows never got out during the day. No, they escaped at midnight or two AM, so that we all had to scramble out of bed looking for feed when someone banged on the door. And I slept downstairs, so I always heard the knock.

I hated those cows. I wanted them to die. But, especially once we bought the house and land, a wreck would have been on our insurance. While Mom tried to raise the cow’s owner, I tramped up State Route 286 in my nightgown chanting, “Come on cow, stupid cow, gonna get us both killed cow.”  … Read the rest

Three wrecks

Posted on by February 25, 2020

I was 19 and lost. I didn’t see the stop sign until a truck struck my sedan. No injuries, but the car was totaled. I thought I was taking my friend to research.

I was 21 and new to Kentucky. I stopped at the light, but the car behind me didn’t. She thought the light was yellow. I thought I was taking Mom to the castle.

I was 35 and composed. I had the green light, but the other car didn’t see me. He thought he was moving a vehicle. I thought I was taking my kids to swim.… Read the rest

Spiderweb

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“Who’s the new lady friend?” Russ Simon’s officemate Joel nodded at the redhead who had just walked over to the Hors d’oeuvre table.

“That’s my sister Karen.”

“Ohhh.”  Russ waited out Joel’s pregnant pause. Finally,  Joel said, “She seeing anybody?”

“Married.” Russ wanted to punch the people who had asked that question, all four of them so far. He hated office parties. And he hadn’t expected the single men to circle his sister like a bunch of goddamned sharks. In fact, Joel’s red nose suggested he had been partaking a little too heavily of the cash bar.

Karen came back with two crackers coated in something pink that looked suspiciously fishy.  … Read the rest

On trains

Posted on by February 25, 2020

It wasn’t the first time. I want to travel. I  want to ride Eurail and sleep on the Berlin Night Express. I want to wear metal shoes, let scream my brakes, and chuff down the line to forever.

This weekend at Trifecta, we get to add our 33 words to the five “It wasn’t the first time”.  In case you wonder, because Madame Syntax would, the tense change is deliberate.

And hey, notice anything DIFFERENT? Looks nothing like my test, does it? That’s because I got awesome feedback about what looked good and what didn’t. And it’s also because the amazingly generous Marie Nichole of My Cyber House Rules made me a header and a button.… Read the rest

Carry Me Too Far Away

Posted on by February 25, 2020


The editors at Trifecta have given us a photo prompt this weekend. We are responding to a picture of a man carrying a shit-ton of luggage through some kind of a terminal, and for me, the central question is “Why does he have a carseat?“

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Julie would have met him at the airport. Brian could have turned around and been on the next flight. But it eased things for all of them if he took one extra day to say goodbye. Macy’s carseat thumped every time he swung his arms. But by bringing it to use in the rental, he held onto her fruit candy scent a little while longer after he went back home.… Read the rest

Houseguests Part II

Posted on by February 25, 2020

The houseguests emerged. Butterflies don’t typically breed in captivity, but last night we are pretty sure ours did. We think, in fact, that this weekend we will be releasing an egg-heavy butterfly mother.

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This weekend at Trifextra, we can write whatever we want, but it can only be 33 words long, and it has to include the word mother.

We didn’t take any pictures, but here’s youtube video that looks like it was made by people whose butterflies came from the same place. That habitat looks a lot like ours.

May I just say…it took their butterflies ages to move past ‘mating ritual’ into ‘actual mating’.… Read the rest

Take care you lie well

Posted on by February 25, 2020

 

Engine thunder preceded the motorcycles. One, two, three, the machines curved into the lot.  The first rider, a big man in a leather coat, unholstered a pistol as he jammed down his kickstand. He took a small glass vial out of his breast pocket.

 

“I warned him.”

 

“True.” The second rider took the vial, sniffed it, then sniffed the air.  “Go up the back. Watch out for Flori.”

 

Upstairs, a young woman not much larger than a child stepped out of a door.  Flori said, “Cal’s down here.” When none of the riders moved, she said to the group’s lone woman, “Leave the men to mind the hall.… Read the rest

The Summoning

Posted on by February 25, 2020

This weekend, those madcap editors at Trifecta want us to write the same exact scene from three different viewpoints, each only 33 words long.  So. This scene follows several hours after this one, from another extremely short Trifextra prompt.

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“Remove the cats!” I shrieked. “By the third thunder, the demon box should be empty until I finish the casting!” I raced to finish chalking the sigil that would keep the monster trapped.

When the demon arose choking and spluttering, the child and I dashed around the wizard’s studio madly gathering kittens. But the mama cat arched her back and hissed, ready to battle her foe.… Read the rest

Flori and the Tourist

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Flori flitted down the alley, a crisp twenty folded in her hand. She tossed the wallet in the dumpster. She wasn’t big time; she didn’t fool with the credit cards. Urre and Kulta, who needed drugs, took bolder risks. Flori emptied out enough to eat and kept a low profile.

A sound at the alley’s mouth alerted her. She looked back long enough to see the tourist’s head, the same distinctive ponytail she had noticed when peeling the wallet free of his pocket. “Shit,” she muttered. Then she yelled, “check the trash mister,” and made a show of running straight into the dead end wall, only to whip around and charge when he was nearly on top of her.… Read the rest

Not What I Meant To Do At All

Posted on by February 25, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Mrs. McIntyre,

I’m sorry I ran over your mailbox with Dad’s car. I thout I hit the braks. I guess not. I’ll pay you the $65 slowly cos I only ern five dollrs a week.

Snrly,

Lexi

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This is my entry for this week’s Trifextra. We are to write an apology in 33 words (salutation and closing don’t count against). I owe credit to my co-author, Caroline, who helped me with the spelling and posed as Lexi. However, she wants everyone to know she would never steal Dad’s car, and that our car is just ‘our car’, not ‘Dad’s car’.  … Read the rest