tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post3027478173682427659..comments2023-11-02T06:15:00.347-04:00Comments on #55WordChallenge: 55 Word Challenge: Week Thirty-SevenLisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01912641441536207956noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-43001578524301155602012-12-06T09:49:10.852-05:002012-12-06T09:49:10.852-05:00Tonya squinted at the music. It made no sense to ...Tonya squinted at the music. It made no sense to her right side up. It jumbled and danced on the page, a mash of lines.<br><br>The conductor wasn’t happy with her discordance. She had performed so beautifully during audition. <br><br>She sighed, turning the book on its side. The notes moved together seamlessly, making sense again.<br><br>55 words<br>@solimond<br> <br>Nelliehttp://scribblingpencil.wordpress.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-43972464498804461252012-12-05T22:17:39.016-05:002012-12-05T22:17:39.016-05:00He composed his first concerto at forty-seven and ...He composed his first concerto at forty-seven and his second six weeks later. Making up for lost time, he said, laughing. <br><br>At fifty-five he learned craps. He won hard, lost hard, both without regret.<br><br>Painting came at sixty: landscapes, seascapes, in gloriously vibrant greens and blues.<br><br>Vegetative state, they said, shaking their heads.<br><br>As if.<br><br>55 words<br>@postupak<br>Rebekah Postupaknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-50399680462856324142012-12-05T20:28:17.091-05:002012-12-05T20:28:17.091-05:00Decorum The pastoral scene visible through the tra...Decorum <br><br>The pastoral scene visible through the transit window was indistinct and blurred by temporal distortions. Lord Malak eyed it with obvious distaste. <br><br>“I do believe I’d rather stay here and perish than to spend my days as a…farmer.”<br><br>Turning, he strode from the Portal Chamber knowing he would at least die with his dignity intact.<br><br>55 words @klingorengi<br>Jeffrey Hollarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05504298750127152026noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-67359863160920019002012-12-05T19:35:05.145-05:002012-12-05T19:35:05.145-05:00The creature didn’t look like us and it didn’t tal...The creature didn’t look like us and it didn’t talk like us. When it pointed at the viola, looking for permission to touch it, we chuckled. When it picked up the instrument, held it next to its mouth and turned the sheet music sideways, we roared with laughter. When it started to play, we cried.<br><br>55 words<br>@HLPauffH.L. Pauffhttp://hlpauff.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-35727896816527407892012-12-05T18:16:51.033-05:002012-12-05T18:16:51.033-05:00REMINISCENCEThe cottage was not as it had once bee...REMINISCENCE<br><br>The cottage was not as it had once been. His daughter gone, the old man now lived all alone.<br><br>Only on days the black rabbit came in from the garden did music return to his life. She would stay for tea, games and pleasantries.<br><br>Not quite all alone, the old man remembered how to smile.<br><br><br>55 words<br>@DavidALudwig<br>David A Ludwighttp://by.davidaludwig.com/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-68557782666895183592012-12-05T18:14:46.314-05:002012-12-05T18:14:46.314-05:00Chance nor luck were ever on his side. He’d found...Chance nor luck were ever on his side. He’d found the map, found the farmhouse, but lost the bet. His wife and her lover weren’t there. Yet. Strike up the orchestra, pluck those taut violin strings, this tale was all too familiar. The ending needed revision. He re-loaded and waited for the music to end. <br><br>55 words<br>@jtvancouverJo-Anne Tealhttp://www.goingforcoffee.netnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-49744695889641316512012-12-05T17:51:03.299-05:002012-12-05T17:51:03.299-05:00When she took the photo out of the box it was all ...When she took the photo out of the box it was all grimy, but it didn’t stop the flood of images the sight of it brought; the ropes, the chains, the blood, and so much pain. She pulled her knees up to her chin & started rocking, just like when they’d finally found her. <br><br>54 Words<br>@PurpleQueenNLMiranda Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11166000575283710451noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-7365827894970778942012-12-05T17:17:42.260-05:002012-12-05T17:17:42.260-05:00She tried the handle, it turned but wouldn't o...She tried the handle, it turned but wouldn't open, and she began frantically yanking the door. Every time she did so the walls of the house moved inwards and the roof lowered. What had started as a large barn and shelter from the rain was now a small shack that threatened to be her coffin. <br><br>55 words<br>Kate<br>@marjiemyersKate Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18343201276177843047noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-19118610807284557992012-12-05T16:37:24.755-05:002012-12-05T16:37:24.755-05:00The one roomed shack had no electricity, no runnin...The one roomed shack had no electricity, no running water and was miles from anywhere. Over the years the room had been used by couples trying to recapture their youth; teenagers experimenting with drugs and sex; solitary men as a haven for unacceptable hobbies.<br><br>If only buildings could talk, the stories it could tell.<br><br>54words<br>@lejamezLaura Jameshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00971686377049763453noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-56719340062320708712012-12-05T16:01:31.714-05:002012-12-05T16:01:31.714-05:00Anya's final words echoed in the empty silence...Anya's final words echoed in the empty silence of the room. <br><br>One's a thrill, two's a kill. <br>Three's a spree, four you're free.<br>Five's your own life, six takes the knife...<br><br>Eloise wiped the bloodied blade on her jeans and gently placed it back on the table. 'Right,' she said, grinning. 'Who's next to roll?'<br><br>55 Words<br>@SJIHollidaySJIHollidayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09395935935929608392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-59602558033934593922012-12-05T15:35:56.127-05:002012-12-05T15:35:56.127-05:00Her upended cello reminded him of a ship’s bow set...Her upended cello reminded him of a ship’s bow setting sail for a foreign shore.<br><br>In disconsolate rage he had also tipped over the music stand, notes cascaded down the page in a way the composer had never intended.<br><br>Robert sat sobbing for the music he would never hear again, her sweet melodies lost forever.<br><br>55 words<br>@reravelling<br>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07953334708365738152noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-52610677798944221972012-12-05T14:37:19.379-05:002012-12-05T14:37:19.379-05:00D&D?The group sat around the glass-topped tabl...D&D?<br><br>The group sat around the glass-topped table, impatiently waiting for Ben to make his roll. If he managed to do enough damage to bring the creature down, the party would be victorious. The dice spun and landed, six dots showing. <br><br>The DM smiled. “You have beaten the humans…for now.” The dragonlings cheered, eager to continue.<br><br>55 words {without title}<br>@Angelique_RiderRobin Abessnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6584936835199117355.post-11411368564471808562012-12-05T13:24:14.992-05:002012-12-05T13:24:14.992-05:00Loaded DiceBy Wakefield Mahon“Derek, I swear I’m n...Loaded Dice<br>By Wakefield Mahon<br>“Derek, I swear I’m never playing with you again. Everyone knows the chances of rolling a six eighteen times in a row is 101,559,956,668,416.”<br>“Everyone, meaning you and who else? Fine, I’ll use your dice if you think I’m cheating.” Brenda’s dice slid across the table into Derek’s hand. “Do you want to roll first?”<br>@WakefieldMahon<br>55 Words<br>Wakefield Mahonhttp://www.wakefieldmahon.comnoreply@blogger.com