Passing the Torch

It’s unbelievable. I hadn’t written for Trifecta for a while, so it came as a huge shock to me that this is our last post together. I found this site almost a year back when I first started blogging, and, honestly, this is the only thing that has kept me writing. So thank you, Trifecta Community; and to the wonderful bunch of people who ran this site for so long and so well, and with such wonderful morale-boosting, friendly comments, thank you so, so, SO much. It means more to me than you will ever know, and I’m sure I echo a lot of people’s sentiments in saying that. Goodbye, Trifecta. It was beautiful while it lasted. You will be sorely missed.

For the final challenge here at Trifecta, we considered some flash and dazzle, a wild prompt to send us off with a bang.  What we realized was the most achingly beautiful, haunting and dazzling words we’ve read from our brilliant community have been the ones you chose when you were given the freedom to write with abandon.  So we’re lovingly, and eagerly, placing the choice in your hands.  There’s no topic, no word, just a free write. Go anywhere your mind wants to travel.  Take us there too.  Just make it count, leave your blood all over this page.  Thirty-three words exactly.  Of course.  We couldn’t end it any other way.

Blood? I’ll give you blood.

Rain soothes your spirit; I rage.

More so that rainbows shine only for you.

But, carried away, you believe –

You search for the pot of gold.

And I laugh.

Cruelly.

Your turn now.

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Reflections and Revolutions

Trifecta‘s latest:

WORM (transitive verb)

1a :  to proceed or make (one’s way) insidiously or deviously<worm their way into positions of power     — Bill Franzen>

:  to insinuate or introduce (oneself) by devious or subtle means
:  to cause to move or proceed in or as if in the manner of a worm

:  to wind rope or yarn spirally round and between the strands of (a cable or rope) before serving

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s – “

“Not all of us are showoffs, you know. Nor you queens. Sheesh.”

“I bought you to reflect, not deflect; I’ll worm it outta you soon enough.”

Misunderstood

“You feel like home,” I smiled, head on his chest. “Like my bed after a party or a long vacation.”

“So basically, you have fun elsewhere, and come to me when you’re done?”

That wasn’t what I meant.

Trifecta’s prompt for the week:

Plenty of times over the past two and a half years, we’ve given you the beginning of a story and asked for you to complete it.  This time, we are giving you the end, and we are asking you to start it for us.  We want 33 words in addition to and preceding the following:

That wasn’t what I meant.

 

Held by Cement

Trifextra: Week 102

This week we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own words about love gone wrong.  But we’re asking that you not use any of the following words:

love
sad
tears
wept
heart
pain

 

I made you known; you helped me grow

We gave new hope; gave off a glow

Of shy beauty, resilience;

We attracted life and lens

Until, dear Wall, you crumbled

And I tumbled.

-Sunflower

The Conversation We May Never Have

Trifecta’s challenge for the week:

MANIPULATE (transitive verb)

1: to treat or operate with or as if with the hands or by mechanical means especially in a skillful manner
2a : to manage or utilize skillfully
b : to control or play upon by artful, unfair, or insidious means especially to one’s own advantage
3: to change by artful or unfair means so as to serve one’s purpose : to doctor
 
 

You lied when you signed it.

You had no intention of keeping your promises.

I went back, though.

Checked for a loophole.

There was none.

It wasn’t the words of the document you tried to manipulate –

It was the truth.

(And it worked.)

I loved you, you know. In my own way.

Sure you weren’t the wittiest kid on the block

And sure you weren’t the fullest of life.

But you were my friend.

Smiling,

Loyal,

Good.

Until you screwed everything up.

I lost more than what you took from me that day, you know.

I lost you too.

And you meant more to me than I will ever admit to myself.

Ever.

Because it’s easier to pretend that we never really hit it off

Than to admit that I liked having you around so much that it never seemed to matter.

But what’s done is done.

And all this…

Well, it’s my fault too

Because I have a hard time letting things go

And an ever harder time letting people go.

Sometimes when you smile at me in the street,

I am enraged by your audacity

But, more recently,

I just want to give in and hold you tight

And have you hold me tight.

But something tells me

(Or maybe someone did)

That that’s not healthy.

But I will say here,

In the privacy of a worldwide audience

Where you may never find me,

Where I don’t have to look into your eyes as I rage

And storm

And blame you

And then break down midsentence

Because of a rising sob threatening to choke me,

Here,

I will say this:

I loved you.

I would’ve protected you for the rest of my life

If you had only kept the one promise I needed from you,

The only promise you ever made me:

To keep us all together.

 

One More Chapter

Trifextra: Week 101

OR

 

~

Just one more chapter,

Just one last look;

I’ll concentrate harder,

Forget what this took:

A childhood of isolation,

Adolescence in pain,

Young adulthood in abstinence,

Can’t let it have been in vain.

~

*N.B: My inspiration: Studying for entrance exams as a student.

Photo credit: Thomas Leuthard / Foter.com / CC BY

Holiday Host

 

Trifextra: Week Ninety-Eight

Charles Dickens, in A Christmas Carol, wrote “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humour.” We are giving you exactly 33 words to make us laugh out loud and spread some festive cheer.

Exhilarating coldness, crinkly eyes and a grin

Ironically allow a ton of warmth in

And no matter how many

Camp out, raid your mini,

You still tell yourself you’re above the SALE bin.

Please Don’t

Trifecta’s newest challenge:

MELT (transitive verb)

1:  to reduce from a solid to a liquid state usually by heat
2:  to cause to disappear or disperse

Nice words won’t melt me.

Neither will a smile.

Music, poetry,

Paintings will take a while.

Titanic? True stories?

They’re all pretty sad.

News reports

Have all that’s bad.

But what jars me,

Breaks me,

Moves –

No, shakes me,

Is the worst possibility –

A missing apostrophe.

*N.B.: For some fun, and a delicious dose of irony, check out this post’s URL. Entirely unintentional. I swear.

Untrellissing Myself

Trifecta: Week 105

PLUCK: (transitive verb)

1: to pull or pick off or out

2 a : to remove something (as hairs) from by or as if by plucking

b : rob, fleece

3: to move, remove, or separate forcibly or abruptly

4 a : to pick, pull, or grasp at

b : to play by sounding the strings with the fingers or a pick

Would you believe it if I told you

I know what it’s like to be alone?

That feeling of restlessness,

Confused for boredom, that zone,

If I told you that I know what it is

To not recognize anyone-

To beg them of the past

To reconsider what’s done-

Don’t pluck your child from its perfect life,

Don’t drop it in the middle of the Sahara to fend for itself, for dear life,

If I told you that I’ve cried and bled,

And banged my head,

Walked slower, then faster,

Afraid of coming last or

Gazed down from a height,

Stepping back only after a fight,

An ocean? No.

An ocean carries you, you can float, though

The desert will burn you if you stop, even falter

Sure death if you stop, no end to your wander.

What would you say if I told you

That I’m low on self-esteem,

That your rock is sawdust held together by steam

That I will gladly hold you up

But not until I fall apart

I will burn with a vengeance

Given enough fuel to start

That I sympathize,

But will brook no lies

That I will survive – better days are ahead now

And that just because I’m a little further along that path now

Doesn’t mean I didn’t have to find it first though

Doesn’t mean that you don’t have to find yours first though

So understand, please, that I’m only one person;

That I can’t always be the trellis, that I also need my freedom

To grow and to be

Unfettered and free

And that you’ll be alright if you keep on walking

Don’t look left or right; for a minute stop talking

And just walk.

When you’ve progressed, you’ll know it.

I promise it’ll be worth it.

Stone Soup

Trifecta: Week One Hundred

PHANTOM (noun)

1   a :  something apparent to sense but with no substantial existence :  APPARITION

b :  something elusive or visionary

c :  an object of continual dread or abhorrence

2 :  something existing in appearance only

3 :  a representation of something abstract, ideal, or incorporeal

She sat beneath the maple tree digging a hole. So intent was she that the rest of the playground didn’t exist for her; a perfect phantom of focus. Sitting, perfectly stable, on a wooden beam placed on the ground, she added the perfect pebble, and then some more; caught a stray maple seed as it flew down from the tree, neatly broke it into bits, shredded the wings, and emptied it into the hole. She took a pinch of the fine, light brown dirt, and sprinkled it into the hole as well. A leaf lying on the ground made the cut, as did a small fragment of bark. Plodding on, with only the words of a story running through her head, she smiled as the little hole reached three-quarters-filled.

“Stone soup.”

And then, getting up, she dusted herself off and wandered back to the tarmac; recess was over.