Chronological Conundrum.

Trifecta's weekend prompt: "This weekend, we want you to give us a 33-word time travel story.  We don't usually tell you what to title your piece, but we'd love it if you could title it with the year/date that you choose."

April 20, 1889.

Braunau, Austria-Hungary. I stand in front of an inn. Knowing what I know, horrors yet to be imagined, I must act. As I begin, my partner stops me with two words: “unintended consequences.”

O.K. So, I've been neglectful of this blog and the Trifecta site long enough. Life, blah, blah, and all that. No excuses, just an answer to the weekend prompt, which is: "we are giving you three words and asking for you to give us back another thirty of your own, making a grand total of thirty-three words. Your words to work with are: ring, water, stage"


The planet’s ring glowed, splendiferous against the void. Shimmering surface water glittered. As the last stage of the rocket detached, no one checked the capsule’s telemetry, the stasis field warning light flashing red.

Stone-Cold

A "serious" Trifecta entry this weekend:

The word lithium comes from the Greek word lithos, which means stone (http://chemistry.about.com/od/lithium/a/10-Lithium-Facts.htm). This weekend, we want you to give us a thirty-three response using the word stone as one of your thirty-three words. You can use any definition of the word that you'd like, but we are specifically looking for serious, well-conceived entries. This isn't the weekend for light-hearted posts about the difficulty of posting before the linkz close, and we are not looking for hilarious commentary about your cats (THIS time). We want something serious and deep from you guys this weekend, because the sun is starting to shine a bit more, and we think we can handle it now. Take your time with it and give us your very best work.

So:

Do not burnish your ego until you can see yourself in its polished surface; reflections are but backwards shadows of reality. After all, the finest diamond is, in the end, just a stone.

Relieved of Corporeality

Back after a lengthy hiatus with a Trifecta entry.  I've let myself be distracted by some political issues, which can be found over at "Dispatches From the Culture War,"  if that's of interest to anyone.

Anyway, great prompt at Trifecta this weekend:

"Below are photos from the 33rd page of one of our very favorite books, Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge. What we want you to do is to scour the page (click to enlarge), choose 33 words, and reshape those words into a piece of your own. "

 

 

 

 

And my entry:

 

All he wanted was to lie on the pine needles, the lilies of the valley near him; the white starflowers, wild violets, pink impatiens.  Relief came as a sensation, the remnants of corporeality.