image from Google

The meadow was quiet. As Fionavar and Aodhan stepped within its boundaries it felt as if the world stopped. She paused, looking around for the spot she only knew from legend. Until the orb was in her hands she’d never even believed it could be real.

The tall grasses stilled, obscuring anything that might be different, out of place. She worried her lower lip as she thought.

“What is it?” Aodhan asked, his hand never straying from the hilt of his sword. “Why are we here, Fionavar? Here, of all places?” He frowned and gazed towards the edge of the meadow where the trees began again. He knew what lay within the birch trees.

Fionavar lay a hand on his arm. “This is the only place my plan will work.” She tightened her fingers, gripping his rough wool cloak. “I mean to be free, Aodhan. Free for you and for our child.” Her other hand drifted down to rest on her stomach. She had felt the baby move today. She needed to act.

“My love, you are no fool. There is no way to be free. You know this.” He gripped her hands. “Please, stay with me one more night and I’ll help you get back to the glade. Raise our child.” He tipped her chin up and brushed a kiss along her lips. “Tell her of her father.”

Fionavar felt the tears cling to her lashes but she refused to let them fall. Pulling free she brought the orb out from the folds of her cloak. It took on a ghostly light that was suddenly mirrored only steps away from where she stood.

Hidden within the grasses was a small stone cairn with a shallow bowl perched upon it. Fionavar placed the orb into the bowl and crouched before it. The orb turned red then shifted to green. At that moment she clutched the edges of the bowl.

“Tell her yourself,” she whispered and let the magic take her.

~*~*~

3  a : a harmlessly deranged person or one lacking in common powers of understanding

Another piece to my faerie story. Read the previous one here

image from Google

Rachel pulled up in front of the music store and found a parking spot. Amy clambered out and rushed inside. She was acting like a kid in a candy store. Rachel shook her head and followed.

Amy went directly to section ‘T’ along the back wall and began flipping through the CD’s

“Here it is!” she crowed, triumphant. A man came out of the back room at the sound.

“Ah, Miss Amy. I was wondering when you would show up.” He chuckled. “You’ve only been pestering me about it for two weeks.”

“Hey Simon,” she grinned. “Do you have any of my ‘regular’ stuff? Mother only let me come by ‘cause I said I wanted a new gospel album.”

He pulled out a box from under the counter. “Take your pick.” Amy started rooting through the box.

“Tsk tsk, Ames. Lying to your mother,” Rachel teased. She needed Amy to start blabbing. Any information she could gather through casual conversation could prove to be helpful. Amy stuck her tongue out at her.

“You know how she is Rach. I’m cool with the attending Church and being charitable and all that but she is so narrow minded about some things. Did I ever tell you she threatened to stop me from hanging out with you?”

“Me? Why?”

“You were going through that rebellious phase, remember? I can’t really blame you, all things considered but Mother took it to the extremes. She thought you were a bad influence and told me I had to stop being your friend.” Amy looked up and met Rachel’s gaze. “Not that I ever would. I’d never abandon you Rach.” She went back to flipping through CD’s.

“Obviously she doesn’t think that now. What changed her mind?”

Amy paused. Rachel could see she was biting her lip. “You went to Kenya. Finished the work your parents began.” She glanced up at Rachel, her hair falling across her cheek, camouflaging her expression. Rachel felt her stomach drop. Her parents. And Kenya. She needed to know more but she couldn’t figure out a way to ask Amy without appearing crazy.

“Are you about done, Amy?” Rachel made a show of looking at her watch. “I think time’s almost up.”

“Oh crap, right!” She pulled a random disc out and tossed it on the counter with the Touchstone album. “Ring em up Simon.”

The drive to Amy’s was silent as Rachel processed everything she’d learned so far. She pulled up in front of Amy’s house.

“Bye Rach. I’ll give you a call later, once the meeting is done.” She began to climb out then paused. “Unless you want to come in?”

“Uhm, thanks but I have some things to do at home. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure. I’m really sorry I upset you. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

“It’s okay, Amy. Hearing the words is still a shock, that’s all.” She watched as Amy slowly walked towards the house, turning briefly to give Rachel a wave. Rachel drove off, intent on going through every box piled up in her apartment, looking for answers.

~*~*~

Let’s go shopping. You choose what kind of shopping, but you must involve 2 characters on the trip, and there must be a conflict of some kind (not necessarily between those 2 characters). Write a paragraph from the point of one character, then write the same interaction from another character’s point of view.

Above is Rachel’s POV. Read the previous piece here. Below is the scene from Amy’s POV. I must say it was interesting to do it over from another character’s POV.

~*~*~

Rachel pulled up in front of the music store and found a parking spot. Amy clambered out and rushed inside. She rushed into the store, forgetting about Rachel in the car. As happy as she was to have her best friend home again she had to get her hands on the new Touchstone CD.

She headed directly to the back where a large ‘T’ hung from the ceiling and began flipping through the CD’s. The familiar font of Touchstone’s name leaped out at her and she pulled the disc out.

“Here it is!” She cried out. She resisted the urge to do a little celebration dance. A man came out from the back at the sound.

“Ah, Miss Amy. I was wondering when you would show up.” He chuckled. “You’ve only been pestering me about it for two weeks.”

“Hey Simon,” she grinned. “Do you have any of my ‘regular’ stuff? Mother only let me come by ‘cause I said I wanted a new gospel album.”

He pulled out a box from under the counter. “Take your pick.” She started rooting through the box.

“Tsk tsk, Ames. Lying to your mother,” Rachel’s teasing voice came from behind her. She turned her head and stuck her tongue out.

“You know how she is Rach. I’m cool with the attending Church and being charitable and all that but she is so narrow minded about some things. Did I ever tell you she threatened to stop me from hanging out with you?”

“Me? Why?”

“You were going through that rebellious phase, remember? I can’t really blame you, all things considered but Mother took it to the extremes. She thought you were a bad influence and told me I had to stop being your friend.” Amy looked up and met Rachel’s gaze. “Not that I ever would. I’d never abandon you Rach.” She went back to flipping through CD’s.

“Obviously she doesn’t think that now. What changed her mind?”

Amy hesitated and nibbled on her lip. She didn’t want to upset Rachel again with a comment about her parents but it couldn’t be helped. “You went to Kenya. Finished the work your parents began.”

She used her hair as camouflage as she observed Rachel’s reaction. Beyond her already pale ivory skin shifting a shade whiter there was no response. Rachel lifted her arm and glanced at her watch.

“Are you about done, Amy?”She asked. “I think time’s almost up.”

“Oh crap, right!” She pulled a random disc out and tossed it on the counter with the Touchstone album. “Ring em up Simon.”

The drive home was silent. Amy kept her attention on the scenery until Rachel pulled up in front of her house.

“Bye Rach. I’ll give you a call later, once the meeting is done.” She began to climb out then paused. “Unless you want to come in?”

“Uhm, thanks but I have some things to do at home. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure. I’m really sorry I upset you. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

“It’s okay, Amy. Hearing the words is still a shock, that’s all.”

Amy walked slowly towards the house, turning briefly to wave as Rachel sped off. She knew her friend well enough to realize that the events surrounding her parents were still raw.

“What am I supposed to do?” She yelled out, knowing no one would hear her.

Her nights became plagued with visions. Indistinct forms hovering at the edge of her consciousness that became clearer until she was abruptly shaken awake by a booming hollow voice.

“I wish I wasn’t such a coward.”

Her response was instinctive, “Be careful what you wish for…”

As the words left her lips her world went white.

~*~*~

This week at Lance’s place the 100 word song was provided by yours truly! After a few weeks of crazy, dark tunes I thought something a little lighter would be nice. Enjoy The Land’s “White Nights”.

This segment brings us back to Seraphina’s world. Who she was and how she came to be a resident of the mirror. You can read the previous piece here

“This must be the peddler the man spoke of,” he murmured. “See? You can just make out the gold scroll work along the edge of the wagon.”  He stood and shifted his cloak to expose the sword at his waist. She sighed at the necessity but there was no point trying to hide he was armed. The circle of firelight revealed three men near the wagon, two of them with the ready stance of guards. He pulled Fionavar up from the crouch she was in and they stepped out from the screen of scraggly brush.

Two of the men instantly turned their attention in their direction. She could see hands move towards hilts. Aodhan stepped into the light and held his hands up and away from his sword. She chafed at being positioned as the helpless woman. In most situations she was far more deadly than Aodhan’s sword but they had agreed to try and remain anonymous during their search.

“Greetings,” Aodhan called. “I apologize for approaching you so late in the evening but we are in search of a certain peddler.” He smiled. “Might one of you be Morcant?”

The smallest man of the group stepped forward. The light reflected off his eyes giving him the appearance of a wolf. Fionavar clenched her hands and kept them by her side. Her slight movement caught Morcant’s attention.

“I be Morcant. Though I do not think you be the one truly searching for me.” He stared straight at Fionavar. “Failte siog.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his use of the ancient word for her kind. Aodhan glanced at her, worry filling his golden brown eyes. She placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed down signaling him to not be concerned before stepping fully into the light.

“You are knowledgeable,” she said, bowing her head. “I am certain you are the one I seek.” She pushed the hood back, exposing her long tangled red hair. She could see Morcant’s pupils widen at the sight. His guards shifted their bodies, sensing the danger.

Morcant bowed his head. “How may I be of assistance to one of the Coimirceoir?”

“I am searching for a particular item. A clear glass orb.” Fionavar smiled faintly. “To most, it appears to be nothing. But to me-“ She stopped abruptly and Morcant’s eyes narrowed.

“Come.” He gestured her closer with a long bony finger. Fionavar approached with Aodhan close behind. The peddler led them to the back of his wagon where he pulled open a small door to the enclosed space perched on top. He climbed up and slid inside. Fionavar followed, ducking through the tight opening.

Inside she was greeted by all manner of trinkets. Some common place others more mysterious. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light provided by the solitary lamp she could feel her lungs go cold. Each breath was excruciating, the pain intensifying as she struggled to take in air. She gasped and fell to her knees.

“Fionavar!” Aodhan cried, climbing in awkwardly and crouching down next to her. She clutched her chest and sucked in shallow breaths.

“Morcant,” she wheezed. He stepped back, his confidence oozing away. “Give-it-to-me.” Morcant reached above him and pulled down a small lead bound chest. He placed it before her and flipped open the lid.

Nestled within was a clear glass orb that pulsed with faint light. Fionavar reached out, still choking out grunting breaths, and grasped it. The orb turned red then faded to a pale green. She clasped it to her chest, her breathing suddenly eased.

“Is it safe?” Aodhan asked. His hand reached out to lie on her gently protruding stomach. Fionavar placed her free hand over his.

“I have no choice,” she said. She held up the orb and watched as a miniature forest sprang up within it.

image from google

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, The Lime challenged me with “Focus on a character’s breathing within a scene” and I challenged Bran macFeabhail with “Girl’s Night Out. Go crazy…or tame…whatever “

~~~~

Write a piece, either fiction or non, in which your character gets rid of or finds something at a thrift or antique store. Your challenge is to write the piece in a different genre that what you are used to writing. Happy hunting… or maybe not… (*hint*)

This piece follows after here

“No,” she says coyly. “I left it for you.”

~*~*~

The weekend special, the Trifextra, was quite a challenge. Take a famous story, poem, book, or fable, and retell it in exactly 33 words.  Feel free to change the characters around, twist the plot, interpret it in a new direction, or parody it, but try to leave it still somewhat recognizable.

I swallowed thickly, the smoke clogging my airways and made my way towards her. The firemen had her perched on the edge of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and an oxygen mask on her face. I could hear the paramedic trying to calm her down.

“Deep breaths,” he said. “Think of the baby. The baby needs as much oxygen you can give.” At the mention of the baby she began trembling, her sobs intensifying. I straightened my shoulders and approached, my file folder clutched in my hands.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Sebastian? I’m with the police.” I flashed her my badge quickly before tucking it back into my jacket. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

She looked at me, her pale blue eyes glowing in the dim light of the ambulance, her face grimed with soot, tears cutting jagged scars down her cheeks. Her pain radiated off her. I licked my lips and sat down, pulling out a pen from my jacket pocket.

“I’d like to get your version of what happened tonight, for our report.”

She stared at me blankly, the tears flowing in torrents. I opened my mouth to say something comforting when she spat at me, “You want to know what happened? I killed him. I killed the love of my life with my stupid, selfish request! I-I-…”  She broke into body wracking sounds, her wails echoing in the night. I shifted in my seat, not sure how to react to her violent outpouring of grief.

“I’m-I’m sorry for your loss,” I stumbled, “but I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was! It was!” She shrieked. “He always loved me, since we were children, he loved me. He did everything for me, just to gain my affection. And I treated him like garbage. I mocked his love…” Her gaze turned towards the still roaring fire. “But he never gave up. I called him a fool –“ Her voice gave out and I wondered if she was done but she continued in a whisper I had to strain to hear. “And then, and then I was the one being bullied and he defended me, when no one else would. And I saw – I saw what had been staring me in the face all these years.”

She turned back to me, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. “I loved him. I’d always loved him. No one else.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t see-“

She cut me off with another wail. “I wanted a sandwich. I’d been going through these insane cravings and he always figured out a way to find what I needed. He always managed to make me happy.” She sniffed and wiped her face, the soot streaking across her cheeks. “I wanted a BLT with extra thick slices of tomato and crispy bacon. Bacon so crispy it was almost black.” Her voice faded again.

“Mrs. Sebastian?” I prodded her. She dropped her face into her hands.

“The fireman, he said it started in the kitchen. It looked like a grease fire.” Her head began to shake back and forth. “The house is old, we didn’t have a fire extinguisher in the kitchen…this is my fault! I killed him I killed him I killed him…” She collapsed into sobs.

I tucked the pen back into my jacket and closed the folder. I gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and stood, nodding at the paramedics and fireman still hovering nearby. I walked away, slowly at first and then picked up the pace, my entire body becoming relaxed.

As I turned the corner I tossed the badge, pen, folder and my jacket into the trash. My assignment complete, I could report to my Boss that Jacob Sebastian’s debt had been paid in full.

~*~*~

In celebration of Valentine’s Day, write a love story, no more than 1,500 words, using this picture above as inspiration.

I also used the Write on Edge Red Writing Hood prompt: Plump tomatoes, salty bacon, crisp lettuce, soft bread, this week we want you to be inspired by the BLT.

image from 123RF

Nathan pulled into the darkened parking lot. Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. The beach. Where it all began. The full moon cast a soft glow along the shore highlighting the waves as they rolled and tumbled along the sand.

Her door opened and she turned to see Nathan standing there. He smiled and offered his hand. Rachel smiled back. He was so confusing. One day acting like the perfect gentleman, the next acting like the diva rock star the public seemed to expect. She’d always believed that love could conquer all; that her love for Nathan could make up for any difficulty in their relationship. But it wasn’t always working out that way.

He placed her hand in his and they began walking. Rachel recognized this stretch. The curve ahead would lead to the cave. She wondered how it would feel to look upon it from the outside.

A brisk wind blew her hair across her face. She pushed it out of the way and shivered.

“Are you cold?” Nathan slipped off his jacket and slung it over Rachel’s shoulders. She felt her heart melt just a little more. Could it be any more perfect? To be here, together?

They rounded the curve and Rachel prepared herself for the jagged cave opening. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath and opened them – to nothing. Shocked she stumbled to a stop and stared. No cliffs, no rocks, no hidden caves. Just miles of rolling dunes covered in waving beach grasses.

Nathan looked back at her. “What’s wrong, Rachel?”

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. It didn’t make sense…or did it? Could it be the cave only existed in her original reality?

“Can we just sit?” Rachel gestured to the moon lit sky. He smiled and sat down on the sand pulling Rachel down next to him. For a moment, they just sat in silence. Then Nathan cleared his throat.

“Do you ever think back to when we were kids and how we used to think our lives would end up?”

Rachel felt her heart begin to pound. This was dangerous territory. She still wasn’t entirely certain what kind of person she’d been back then. She licked her lips slowly before replying.

“It’s hard to remember back then…but I like to think I always hoped that somehow I’d end up here – with you.”

She could feel Nathan’s shoulders tense. “Really? I always thought…you’d made it so clear…that you blamed me. I know you knew it was an accident…but a part of you, I thought, hated me for what happened to David.”

Rachel sucked in her breath. David? What had happened to her brother? Tears of frustration began to well up. This wasn’t fair! How was she supposed to deal with information like this? Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder, misinterpreting her tears.

“Hey, I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t know it was still so raw.”

She brushed the tears away. “It’s not. I’m fine, really. I-I honestly don’t remember a lot of the details.” She turned to him and grabbed his hands. “I guess I blocked it out.”

~*~*~

For the picture prompt, tell us what is evoked by this image. Where is it? Who has taken this picture? Are they lost, alone or on holiday with the love of their life? Is this a Valentines Day holiday to never forget, or a break away to get over the loss of their lover to some great tragedy or another lover. You decide.
I’m back with poor lovesick Rachel and her crush, Nathan. Still in leap two Rock Star! Read previous pieces here, here, and here

I’m also linking up to Jenny Matlock’s Alphabe-Thursday since it fits quite well

Julie looked up at her older sister, tears rimming her bold blue eyes. She picked up a stark image of a woman laying half dressed across a bed. She looked asleep.

“But I love him, Dee.” She shook her head.  “It’s just an illness. He could be cured.”

~*~*~
This week’s song is Hotel Illness by the Black Crowes.

She wandered to the oversized windows propped open to allow a breeze to filter through the small space. Her book dangled in her hand, for the moment forgotten as the grunts exploded into expletives. She pushed the window open further and craned her neck left and right.

Off towards the edge of the third floor she noticed a window pushed open as wide as it could. All the rest of the windows were closed so by deduction, that must be where the shouting was coming from. Isabelle hadn’t met that neighbor yet. He’d moved in only a few weeks ago and their paths had yet to cross. She debated asking him to be quiet when a scream erupted from the apartment and a large canvas went sailing out the window.

Isabelle stared, her mouth hanging open in shock. She was about to retreat back into her apartment when a male figure leaned out the window, a shaggy mop of jet black curls falling in a curtain across his face. She couldn’t see his features but the sharply defined muscles of his arms and the smooth curve of a muscled chest caused her heart to leap into her throat. She sucked in a deep breath, a warm sensation building between her legs.

“Oh my…” A breathless sigh escaped her throat. The figure stiffened and his head turned towards her. Even from this distance she knew his eyes were locked onto her own. She felt an unexplainable magnetic pull, a need to get closer to him, to touch him. She began to climb out the window, her movements hampered only by the book still clutched in her hand. The book tumbled free, its heavy cover sending it plummeting into the garbage cans below. The crash of metal shook Isabelle out of her trance and she stopped. Blinking slowly she looked down and realized she had half crawled out of her window to the small ledge. Shaking, she edged back into her apartment and closed the window behind her.

A sudden knock made her jump. Isabelle hurried over to the door.

“Who-who is it?”

“Liam O’Donnel.” A strong male voice with a lilting Irish accent flowed from the other side of the door. “I live below you.”

Isabelle opened the door an inch and peered out. The dark haired figure she’d seen leaning out the window stood before her, his muscular frame even more impressive close up. She felt her heart begin to tap dance in her chest as she swung the door open fully.

His hair was long, shaggy, half covering his face. Only one piercing grey eye could be seen, its focus locked on to her. Isabelle itched to brush the hair from his face so she could see him fully. Her fingers twitched but she willed them still. A half smile curved Liam’s face as he reached out and took her fingers into his, raised her hand to his mouth and brushed the lightest of kisses onto her skin.

“Oh.”

Liam’s smile curved wider as he released her hand. “I’m so sorry about the disturbance. I realize I was making much too much noise and I interrupted your reading.” Isabelle’s book suddenly appeared in his other hand. She took it and just stared at it, wondering how he got it.

“It’s-it’s alright, really.” Isabelle took a hesitant step back into the safety of her apartment. “Thank you for returning the book.” She moved to close the door when Liam spoke again.

“The Picture of Dorian Gray. A classic.”

Isabelle glanced at the book then back at Liam. “I’m reading it for a class. It’s an interesting premise.”

Liam brushed his hair out of his eyes and locked his silver gaze on her. She felt her knees go weak. “I’m actually an artist myself. Would you like to come and see my work?”

Isabelle felt herself nodding and following him to the roof top access to the rest of the building. Liam’s door to his apartment was standing open.

“Aren’t you worried about break in’s?”

The seductive half smile crept back. “Not really. As you’ll see, I don’t have much worth taking.”

Isabelle followed Liam into the cavernous studio apartment. The space had been created by combining two or three classroom spaces from the old school and it boasted wall to wall windows allowing a tremendous amount of light. The other walls were covered in large canvases featuring portraits of women.

The open space was largely bare. There was a small kitchenette tucked into a corner, a dilapidated brown couch along a wall and a massive easel with an oversized canvas facing the windows. Cans of paint were piled haphazardly on the bare concrete floor. Isabelle almost kicked over one such pile and glanced down to watch where she was stepping. The floor was liberally sprinkled with every imaginable shade of color making it a work of art in its own right.

She paused at the portrait on her left. The woman was striking, her body curving seductively on a plush pillow, her eyes darkened with makeup and her stare piercing. The long honey blond hair and pale green eyes were eerily similar to her own. Isabelle glanced at Liam sideways and jumped at the intensity of his own look.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He commented, stepping forward and brushing a hand lovingly along the image. He turned to Isabelle and smiled at her. “Much like yourself.”

Isabelle felt her body react to his innocuous comment. She felt a flush building and wanted nothing more than for Liam to take her that moment. Confusion flitted across her face as she fought the sensations running rampant. Liam looked at her concerned.

“Are you alright, Isabelle? Come, sit down and have some water.” He led her to the couch and produced a small glass. Isabelle drank slowly, the heat in her body diminishing.

“I’m not sure what happened,” she mumbled.  Liam placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Just sit. Relax.” He turned towards the blank canvas perched on the easel. “I’d been fighting with my muse, which was the yelling you heard.” He rolled his eyes and grinned impishly. “She can be stubborn at times.” Isabelle gave him a faint smile.

“I’m feeling inspired, since meeting you…do you mind if I paint while you sit there? Just for a few moments, to see if I can get my creative inspiration going again.”

“Uhm, alright.” Isabelle chewed her lip, her body still feeling thick, her mind foggy. “Do I have to do anything?”

“No no. Just sit. Just…be.”

Liam turned to the canvas and began painting with long smooth brush strokes. Occasionally he would glance back at Isabelle, that faint half smile playing on his full lips, before continuing on.

The light was beginning to fade when Liam stopped and stepped back to observe his work. Isabelle was amazed at the transformation. It had gone from blank canvas to…her, or rather a reasonable representation of her, in such a short time. She pushed up off the couch, her knees buckling a little, and moved closer.

“It’s fabulous. I can see myself clearly in the image.”

“Will you come back tomorrow, so I can work on it again?”

Isabelle nodded, her heart doing a little thump as he took her elbow and guided her towards the door.

“Until tomorrow then.”

Over the next few weeks, Isabelle returned to Liam’s apartment so he could work on her portrait. Each time she sat for him she became oddly exhausted but the magnetic pull to see him and her image appear on the canvas was too great.

One afternoon he stepped back and proclaimed it ‘finished’. Isabelle struggled to her feet, once more feeling lethargic, and gripped Liam’s arm. She stared at the portrait in awe, her hand coming up to touch it. Liam stopped her.

“Don’t touch. It’s still wet.”

“I just can’t believe you painted this, Liam. It’s amazing…it’s like you literally picked me up and plucked me onto the canvas.” She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

Liam stroked a finger along her jaw, his cool misty gaze looking pensive before solidifying into a look of molten silver. He returned her kiss full on her lips. Isabelle felt her body stiffen then collapse, her bones unable to hold her up. She fell to the floor, her eyes widening in surprise.

Liam stood over her then stepped up to the canvas and lovingly kissed the portrait. Isabelle’s vision began to cloud over as she watched the portrait come to life and step free of the canvas. Portrait Isabelle smiled down at her inspiration as the real Isabelle’s vision faded to black.

~*~*~
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Michael challenged me with “I yearn for honesty in life. As an artist, I yearn for the clear moment.” -Jack Nicholson” and I challenged Janey with “”People who perceive their car as a reflection of their self-identity are more likely to behave aggressively on the road and break the law.” Use this statement for inspiration. 500 words max”

Quickly I readied the other ingredients to my creation, tossed it together, and then dribbled a liberal coating over the top.

Oh, Trader Joe’s Balsamic Vinaigrette, you are magnificent.

~*~*~

A tricky challenge from those clever Trifector’s   write a love scene in no fewer than 33 and no more than 333 words.  Interpret that prompt as you will, but please be sensitive to our diverse audience and limit the use of explicit language.  (This is not TrifeXXXtra.)  The only other restriction is that your response cannot use any of the 33 words listed or any derivation of those words.  For example, because excite is on the list, we will not allow excited, excitedly, exciting, or excites.