My Weekly Writing Challenge

My ten-word story challenge from last week proved to be a great hit with you, so I thought I’d set another one. This time, you need to choose four from the following list:

  • Epiphany
  • Susurrous
  • Tintinnabulation
  • Scintillating
  • Umbrella
  • Unravel
  • Ratatouille
  • Corbyn

If last week’s results were anything to go by, I can’t wait to read them!

Last week’s words were:

  • Serendipity
  • Illicit
  • Dollop
  • Hullabaloo
  • Shrubbery
  • Squelch
  • Priministerial
  • Gargantuan

Here are the results:

Tessa Barrie was first in with a quick response:

One squelch in the shrubbery led to a gargantuan hullabaloo.

Mellissa Barker Simpson was also quick off the mark:

The illicit, and gargantuan shrubbery, has caused quite a hullabaloo!

Sacha Black raises a smile:

Illicit serendipity from a dollop of priministerial gargantuan squelchy shrubbery.

Helen Jones joined in with a witty story:

The illicit jam dollop hit her gargantuan thigh. Hullabaloo ensued.

Jane Basil always delivers a belter of a story. Here’s two:

A gargantuan dollop of illicit sex in the shrubbery? Priministerial!

The gargantuan dollop of illicit icecream toppled; squelch. Such hullabaloo!

Bharul R. Chhatbar said she loves these challenges:

Much hullabaloo ended when gargantuan dollop squelched like an alien.

Helen Gaen found she she couldn’t stop once she’d started. Here are her best two:

Serendipity brought Tom to the shrubbery… Gargantuan spiders! Illicit dream.

Priministerial fall into dollops of fondue. Squelch! Gargantuan mess…

She thought she’d then have a go at writing a seven-word story, using four of the words:

Gargantuan overgrown shrubbery hid illicit priministerial games.

The week before I gave  you a single word as your challenge: Fear. Alison Webster sent in this chilling piece:

FEAR

“Come,” came the voice, an eerie whisper in my ear.

The bony finger beckoned as my heart was gripped by fear.

The path crunched underfoot as I staggered blindly on. The branches snagged and scraped me as my strength was all but gone.

“Come,” came the voice, as the moon shone, cold and white.

I tried to cry out “STOP”! But my breath came short and tight.

The figure shook its head, unrelenting in its task and from the savage way it snarled, I knew I dare not ask.

The owl perched on a spindly branch, surveying a small meal, gliding slowly downwards as the field mouse gave a squeal.

I clambered over rotting trees, the wind began to sigh. The bony face looked at the mouse, ‘everything must die.’

My knees were scraped and bloody as I skittered on some leaves. I heard a throaty growl as it grabbed me by my sleeves.

“I’m lost,” I sobbed, “please help me, the night has come too fast. I was playing and I slumbered and I thought the day would last. The sun was like a golden ball it beckoned me to stay. I danced and played with fairy folk but I have lost my way.”

The spectre bowed its blackened head and came down on one knee. “You were happy here an hour ago and now you want to flee! You simper over daylight hours, of golden sun and scented flowers, of bunny rabbits soft and small. I do not care…I hate them all. No-one likes the shadows falling, the twilight bat, the wise owl calling. All my treasures discarded and wasted; your fear and tears are all that I’ve tasted.”

Spindly fingers felt for my hand; it trembled and shook as I started to stand .Faint hues in the distance gave forth a warm glow, grownups with torches were calling out “Jo!”

The fingers released me and pushed at my back.

“Be-gone with you youngling, I doubt you’ll come back! Go now, return to the light of the track. I will tread softly in the dark shadowed gloom. I’ll play with the spiders and sing to the moon. Dreaming of creatures curious and dark, silhouetted by moonlight all silvery and stark.”

“I will come again”, I said as I stared. “When I am older, and not all that scared.” Standing in the clearing I smiled and waved. His dark eyes were shining, “You really are brave.”

But yes, I am certain that young years will fly and weary old eyes will return by and by. Then he blinked, and winked and gave out a sigh.

Because, everything must die.

***

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6 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. somewords4u says:

    I just tried:

    Susurrous tintinnabulation during epiphany serve as umbrella for any breakthrough!

  2. somewords4u says:

    Devotees unravel susurrous mind in the tintinnabulation of the epihpahy.

  3. Poe had a sudden epiphany. He unraveled the essence of bells. Tintinnabulation. The chimes ceased; the rain began. He opened his umbrella and moved on.

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