My Weekly Writing Challenge

This week’s writing challenge is for a story in up to fifteen words. I’m not giving you any words this time, but you story must contain words which start with the same letter e.g.:

Bertie Bathwick bought bright blue boots but Bertie’s brother Bernard bashed both.

This isn’t a particularly good example, but it gives you the idea. Enjoy!

My challenge for you last week for a visual one, to write a poem or story based on the following visual prompt of a haunted lighthouse:

63327984_7275622bdaHere are the simply stunning results:

Keith Channing sent in this wonderful poem:

At the top of the hill
Through fair wind and ill
It stood and announced its position
It guided the sailors
The yachtsmen and whalers
And never held back from its mission

At first it had candles
Wound up with stout handles
But its dim glow could still pierce the night
Then lamps of high power
That shone from its tower
Became such a comforting sight

It’s a lonely old life
For keeper and wife
But they know that their service is needed
And each time a ship
Through the channel did slip
They knew in their job they’d succeeded

Now, you don’t need bright lights
When you have satellites
And electronic aids are abundant
Software navigation
And geolocation
Have rendered the lighthouse redundant

In the end it was sold
This sentinel of old
It’s now just some wealthy guy’s house
He’s put a big slide
In the tower’s inside
A plaything for his kids and his spouse

But the day will soon dawn
When the oil is all gone
And electrical power will be history
We will need methodology
To replace the technology
Though what we will use is a mystery

Perhaps they’ll decide
That a lighthouse can guide
So they’ll bring back the candles once more
Then the venerable tower
Will commence a new hour
And do the job it was put up there for

Richard Schulte ‘s is short, simple but effective:

Ghosts lit play
in haze of gray.

Jane Basil takes vivid imagery to a whole new level:

stepping from
the car with an
airy feeling in
her head and her
feet, and a return of
the freedom which
she hasn’t felt
since then,
a lifetime ago,
she lets the grey
glow in the sky
lead her where it
may; along familiar
lanes, abandoned
by her so long ago
in the vain and
hopeless hope
that the pain
may fade
one day,
one
day
forever
awaited,
and yet she
roams these
roads again
untouched by
the memory of then;
of that searing second, minute,
hour, day, week, month, year, eternity
when everything had screamed within her.
when. everything. good. was. dead.
everything dead.
everything
except
her.
now the
old windmill
towers above her,
its crumbling walls
concealing worm eaten
floorboards which
killed…
and now two
illuminated
figures approach and
she walks into
their silken glow.
her children
have waited
in this place
these many years
so patiently waited
for her embrace and as they
all join hands her form
shimmers into translucence.

several miles away,
strangers stand in
shock beside the
wreck of a car,
mourning her
shredded shell on
the blood-spattered bonnet
and sadly shaking their heads.
an approaching siren wails, and
they turn theirheads from death;
but I see the three
glowing sparks as they
leave the heart of the woman
and soar up to the sky
and I know that
she is healed
at last.

Alana Ritchison sent in a powerful poem:

This Is Where I Saw You Last

This is where I saw you last

High up on this hill.

The light house shone brightly then

Glistening

Drenched in So Cal sunlight.

Now, darkness prevails.

I  am here

Alone.

You are gone.

This is where I have come to see you

One last time.

The coastal eddies shroud our favorite place.

The rays will return.

Until then, this is where I leave you.

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9 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. Sacha Black says:

    Wait what? How did I miss last weeks?!!!! 😱😨

    Ok back with something shortly

  2. Bloody big brown boxes blatantly began banging before breakfast, besmirching bombastic Betty Boothroyd’s biggest bra.

  3. TanGental says:

    Khief Khef, Kristopher Kampbell kounted Kristine Kollins, Knatchbury’s knewest kouncil klerk’s knineteen krispy kremes karefully – hope this complies – I’m never sure about my spelling…

  4. Sacha Black says:

    Alexandro always an aggressive athlete, accidentally attacked aunt Audrey’s acacia

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