My Weekly Writing Challenge

Looking for a new writing challenge? Here are my latest challenges for you:

OPTION ONE: Write a fifteen-word story with the words WINNER, FROZEN and ELIXIR in it somewhere.

OPTION TWO: Write a poem or limerick on the theme of DECEPTION.

OPTION THREE: Your word is DRAMA. What does the word mean to you? Acting on stage? A TV drama? Or making a mountain out of a molehill? Your piece of writing can be fiction or truth, or a mixture of the two; it’s up to you.

You had two weeks in which to complete the previous challenges. Here’s a reminder for you:

OPTION ONE: Write a six-word story with the word FLABBERGASTED in it somewhere.

OPTION TWO: Write a poem or limerick on the theme of DAYDREAMS.

OPTION THREE: Your word is SPORT. What does sport mean to you? Being part of a team? Drive? Ambition? Or does the word make you break out in a cold sweat if you even think about running/cycling/exercising? Your piece of writing can be fiction or truth, or a mixture of the two; it’s up to you.

Now for your wonderful mix of writing on option one:

Steve Walsky:

Pub feasting left him rather flabber-gasted!

Paul:

Voted Remain. Brexit? I’m totally flabbergasted! 

Parachute failed! Garden trampoline landing. Flabbergasted!

Charles Norman:

Flabbergasted… sold my first short story!!

Flabbergasted just because I kissed you????

Rajiv Chopra:

Flabbergasted! GST made progress in India!

Sanfranciscoatheart:

Rabbit food and still collywobbles?? Flabbergasted.

EDC Writing:

… and so, her own flabbergasted his …

… that she touched flabbergasted so much …

Urvashi Panda:

Single-flagged world with single-anthemed soul, Flabbergasted!

Now for option two’s super offerings:

Rajiv Chopra:

It is the day, and I dream and dream. And, dream some more.
I dream of the world and how it could have been before.
Before the bombs, before TV, and before all the noise
Of hateful shouts, of bullets of things we made our choice.

I often dream of years ago – millions and millions of years ago,
When the world was green, rivers flowed and winds did blow.
Of days when the sky was clean, the clouds were white
And skin would feel the cold wind’s tender bite.

But, we have made progress, we now go to the moon
Everything grows, and changes must happen soon.
We are governed by Time, by a strappy device
Our lives, our wrists, are caught in it’s cruel vice.

The world has shrunk, to the size of a screen
And, we don’t hear each other’s scream.
Trapped we are by a mobile phone
We have forgotten the warmth of home.

I dream of days when I had friends, of days of cheer
Laughter, hugs and jokes over a glass of beer.
Smileys replace the smiles in eyes, and faces
Our fingers tap, our fingers fly to close the spaces.

I dream of the days that have yet to come,
When machines shall replace everyone.
Mechanical toys, efficient and so cold,
Will kill our souls, if I may make so bold.

But, I must work, there is no time to dream
Not by day, or by night, else the master’s scream.
The day dream ends, and I ask myself
Am I the dream, or do I fool my self?

And another from Rajiv:

She comes to me in the dark of night, She looked at me with a face so white. I screamed and woke the ghosts that haunt, And disturbed them in their nocturnal jaunt.

She smiled at me with her bloodless lips, And walked to me, with her swaying hips. She opened her mouth, she seemed to bite. Oh no, I don’t give up with out a fight!

She smiled at me, with her teeth so sharp, Her nails are claws that scratch out the dark. She wants my blood, says it feeds her lust, And bit my neck, my world went bust.

I woke up suddenly, with a horrific yell – And looked around, at my daylight Hell. Oh, thank thee Lord, it was a daydream, But, damn thee Satan, I love her, I scream.

I am the dreamer, I am my dreams; It’s her bite I love, I’m crazy, it seems. This daylight world, I give to thee; I want the dark, the dark is me.

Graeme Sandford:

I dream of days
Mon, Tues, Wednes, Thurs, Fri, Sat and Sun,
When all nightmares will be forgotten
Consigned to the past
Never to be realised again.
I dream a dream of days
When we shall be free
Of prejudice and hate
When equality shall be seen and felt
When the needy have enough
When the rich share out their wealth
And when everybody cares.
I am a dreamer –
Maybe I am not a realist.

Finally, option three and a wonderful poem for you:

Geoff Le Pard:

I despair of seeing an English captain
Lift a world cup
Any world cup
Millions of pink faced fans screaming

I weep at the prospect of another beating
By the Australians
Doffing the baggy green.

My heart sinks while I the watch the ball
Turning end over end
As the All Blacks crush
The feeble rose
Under size 17 boots.

I’ll never stop watching
Knowing it’s inevitable.
After all I’m inured to despair
It’s the hope that kills me.

***

It-the-possibility-that

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29 Responses to My Weekly Writing Challenge

  1. Simon says:

    You run so many writing challenges Esther. I couldn’t keep up! Keep up your great work ☺

  2. DrEMiller says:

    Reblogged this on Write of Passage and commented:
    Sharing more Esther Newton writing challenges. Enjoy!

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  5. mihrank says:

    this is a great and creative idea…I am glad everyone was included in your list, I wish one musician to be included on your list…I guess I will continue playing piano and melody….

  6. Paul says:

    Here goes :
    A real winner? Frozen elixir of youth. Instructions: won’t keep long, use within three month!

  7. Sorry, I’ve been struggling a bit of late. However:

    It seems that my little deception
    Had less than a lukewarm reception
    I thought it was good
    But that, never could
    Perception match up to conception

    I stood on the famed Bridge of Sighs
    Looking up at the clearest of skies
    I saw from inception
    My life was deception
    A profusion of badly-told lies

    I should maybe be more circumspect
    After all, what more could I expect
    I was always deceived
    In the things I believed
    I had suffered from spiritual neglect

    When I practise my famed introspection
    I see life in a different complexion
    What I once thought were lies
    I now realise
    Was simply factual disconnection

    But if truth is just true to each person
    What is there for us to immerse in
    If eternal veracity
    Equates to mendacity
    The state of our race can but worsen

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  9. Reblogged this on Bitchy Muse and commented:
    Stumbled over this through a series of clicks I couldn’t recount now. Spent a few minutes mumbling it over. Hehe. Didn’t think I’d have so much fun, though.

    Option One:

    Too late. She stood frozen. Elixir? Stolen. That bitch? The winner. Her prize? My Prince.

    • esthernewton says:

      Thank you for the reblog and for that fantastic story! Love it 🙂

      • No, thank you. I’m not very good at writing short–most of the time, my stories balloon out into much longer and more complex things, which I then have a hard time finishing. I’ve always been jealous of the people who can write shorter.

        But! The few times I’ve successfully written short, it’s been under the influence of one of these unusual restrictions (I once wrote a short of all one syllable words, a story I still love, even though it ended up being really dark). At any rate, thanks for the inspiration. I’ve been really struggling with finishing recently, and it feels surprisingly good to be able to remind myself what that feels like.

  10. esthernewton says:

    Glad to have helped 🙂 And keep going!

  11. Urvashi Panda says:

    Hi Esther
    Here is the option one story.
    Life, the winner, capers on the frozen planet… HE, the elixir-maker, is an absolute alchemist!

  12. Rajiv says:

    I have the 15 word one…. ‘Deception’ is underway…

    ‘The winner was given a freezing elixir to drink. Poor thing. Her throat was frozen’.

  13. Rajiv says:

    hi Esther…. ‘Deception’ is a devilish challenge…. But, even though this still needs considerable work, here is my half whimsical, half sarcastic version.

    ‘The word, ‘deception’, is so full of meaning,
    With too much truth, we’d all be screaming.
    At the end of time, we seek God’s redemption,
    Yet cannot live without some deception.

    I look at the sky, and it is blue;
    This ‘scientific’ fact is just not true.
    The light does bend, on entering or sphere
    And fools our brains, this should be clear.

    You speak the truth, and so do I,
    Yet, I thnk you lie, I scream and cry.
    You deceive me, fool me, with your lies,
    We’ll fight for honour, till I see you die.

    One man’s virtue, another one’s vice.
    Fraud and deception spread like lice.
    The rich, the powerful, protect their place,
    With honeyed words, and a hidden mace.

    The Grand Vizier, sits in the sky
    Smiling benignly from his throne so high.
    The priests spin myths, and make us fools
    In their quest for gold, we are their tools.

    With Satan’s laugh, your blood shall curdle
    To reach his lair, there is no hurdle.
    Who do you meet, when you see him there?
    Yourself, you fool, your lies laid bare.

    At the end of days, Maya lifts the veil,
    Of illusion and delusion; our lies she’ll peel.
    Before her, naked, no more deception,
    You scream and run, there’s no redemption.

    The poem’s done, the Mongrel’s sung his song
    I pray, your Honour, it wasn’t too long.
    If I have lied, or have deceived you.
    My friend, I am happy, and God is too.’

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