Tag Archives: Trifecta Writing Challenge

Match Point

Sharlana's Ghost

It was a baseline backhand that killed Sharlana Inglickova, when her trademark grunt finally caused her lungs to explode.

Still her ghost clings to life, believing that it owes her a second serve.


The Trifecta Writing Challenge this week was to write 33 words inspired by the above photo.

The photo is by Thomas Leuthard, and is actually called “Studying in Starbucks”

The Start Of The Aff

The first time I saw Eve I fell in love. When I woke my ribs were a bit sore, I may have slept on that side, but there she was. Hand in hand we went and ate fruit.

This was written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge. They gave us the first five one-syllable words, and we’d to add 33 more of  our own…

Companion Piece


The pair were so alike, yet so different.

The Queen stormed regally up and down the chessboard, cutting down anything that stood in her way, knowing that if she fell the battle was all but lost. The King was pathetic, scuttling fearfully in a tiny square area like a mime artist trapped in an invisible box.

The rest of their army were little better.

The knights staggered in random directions, filled with wine, wearing a suit twice their weight and carrying a sword the length of their leg. The bishops veered off to the left or right in search of natives to convert, usually painfully.

The rooks kept to the outer edges of the battle. The Queen would sometimes swap places with one, just to see if she could find out what they actually did.

Then there were the poor pawns. The Queen had more respect for them than for all the rest. In peacetime she would visit them at their workplaces and ask “and what do you do?” and try to be genuinely interested in the answer. She felt it was the least they deserved, because she knew that in wartime they would be sent to the front.

Sometimes one of them would make a break for it and actually start a battle, as the other side would think that it was the beginning of a charge, but most of them would line up stoically and resignedly, a shield for their supposed betters.

If the King got into trouble he simply surrendered, and to the Queen’s horror the battle would then be considered lost. She’d have fought on ferociously forever, an ivory Joan of Arc standing side by side with her brave pawns, urging them forward so that one of them might take her place if she fell.

She was supposed to be his companion, but she knew she was so much more.

The King was in charge in name, but the Queen was in charge in fact.

Like most households.


Word Count 332. This was written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge, to the prompt “Companion”.

It’s Not You, It’s Him

This post was written for the Trifecta Writing Challenge, which was to write between 33 and 333 words including the word “grasp”, using the definition ‘to lay hold of with the mind – comprehend’ …


She was beginning to grasp the idea. That didn’t mean she was taking it well.

She loved him. She had loved him for years and years. He had always been there for her, fulfilling her every need, and now he was gone. With just four words he was out of her life forever.

“You must have suspected,” said her Mum, who was holding her close and trying to ignore the burble of snot that peeped from her nostril with each sob.

Of course she had suspected. The stories of what he did and where his job took him had seemed more unlikely each time she had thought about them. She had countered this by not thinking about them.

“You knew,” she suddenly said accusingly. “You and Dad both knew. You lied to me.”

“We wanted you to be happy,” her Mum said defensively. “We did what parents do.”

“All parents lie?” she said. “Is that what you’re saying?” Her Mum had no answer to this.

“I just can’t believe I’ll never see him again,” she wailed, tearing herself from her mother’s embrace, running into her room and slamming the door.

“You’ve never seen him anyway,” said her Mum softly. It had been she who had uttered the fateful four words – “there is no Santa” – and she felt as if she had just killed a childhood.