WISHFUL THINKING

This weekend we are asking for a thirty-three word confession. You're free to write non-fiction or fiction or to blur the lines in between. We just encourage you to get creative and give us your best . This week's Trifextra Writing Challenge is to write a 33 word confession, and here's mine.  Uh, I suppose it's...fiction? Non fiction? Non fiction, I guess. We all have our virtual avatars. Here it is: By http://mihaelaj.deviantart.com/ I don’t dance; she does.   I don’t smile; she does.   I am reserved; she speaks of sex and violence, politics and ambition, dreams and illusions. I am her. She is me, only binary. 

Hullo, Halloween. You mean nothing to me except pumpkins and scary movies on English TV channels, and I find that a little sad, since you seem kind of fun.  I first heard about you from R.L Stine's Goosebumps books when I was a kid. I thought of you as a mega costume-party. My favorite version of you is, of course, from Harry Potter- that isn't going to change- at least until I see you for real if I ever visit a Western country on Oct 31st. That said, you inspire a lot of creativity, especially among writers, and there's nothing wrong with a good dose of creepy on a sleepy Saturday. So here's the Trifextra Writing Challenge, this week in the spirit of Halloween:  In 1937, a naked woman was found limping through the streets of Haiti. Upon interrogation, she was unable to give any details as to her identity. The woman was eventually identified in hospital as Felicia Felix-Mentor. The only issue is that Felicia Felix-Mentor had been dead for nearly twent...

The Trifextra Writing Challenge is a writing challenge that happens every weekend- and it's a lightning fast one at that! This week, the challenge is to add 33 words to this 33-word story: The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be. Here's my take on the challenge: thanks to wb-skinner on DeviantArt for this image The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be. She had spent hundred years collecting as much as possible, and there was never enough happiness in the world to fill a bottle. But sorrow was black as tar and filled entire rooms. (I just couldn't help but go all fantasy on this as well) Happy Weekend! Be back tomorrow with Sunday Scri...