Trifecta: Doctor

Hilde raised an eyebrow at Esme, two sugar cubes suspended in the air, hovering above her cup of tea.

“So, that was it then, he met you in town then fell in love?”

“Well,” Esme purred, studying her fingernails, her teaspoon twirling around the vermilion liquid on its own, “I did doctor his wine a little bit…”

The blocks of sugar exploded into crystal smithereens, bespeckling the immaculate table.

“You what?!” , the lights in the tea room flickered off and on.

“Oh come now, you can tell that he liked me! He just needed a little…encouragement.”, the teaspoon halted.

“I saw him first!”, Hilde screeched, the pot of tea flew, its warm contents spilling all over Esme’s face.

Esme gasped, too stunned to speak, the bittersweet brew creating a crimson stain on the front of her frilly dress. She retaliated by hurling a ball of fire at Hilde’s head. Hilde ran frantically about the room screaming as her ridiculously high pile of golden-blonde tresses were wrapped in incandescent flames. She paused, snapped her fingers and created a cloudburst to quench the fire.

The two women stared murderously at each other, wet hair plastered about their glowering faces, clothes drenched in rainwater.

“A rain shower!? Inside the house, Hilde!?,” Esme shrieked, her bright green gaze as cold and hard as splintered glass.

It was at that moment that Swanson came in and announced, “A Mr. Lingley for Ms. Elkins.” Then curtly left the room, wise enough to pretend that he saw nothing uncommon.

Hilde gathered her billowy skirts and started off but Esme yanked her arm and hissed, “He meant me.”

She began to move past Hilde’s sodden figure then hesitated, “I’ m a horrible mess!” she sobbed.

“Hush my love.. It doesn’t matter..”, Hilde embraced her sister and whispered soothingly, “I’m sure your spell worked. Truthfully, you may not even have need for doctor.”

Esme gave Hilde a dazzling smile, kissed her cheek fondly and went off to greet her Mr. Lingley.

333 words

DOCTOR (noun)
a : material added (as to food) to produce a desired effect

Trifextra: my 33 words of passion

They’d wanted it for long…

His need to devour her, urgent..

He touched pink…

Hidden valley discovered…

Huge tide… Flapping…

Wild ripping sensation…

Relief found, they lie,

Wrapped in a blanket of quiescence…

WORD GAME: scour page 33 of Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge, choose 33 words, and reshape those words into a piece of your own.

Trifecta: Exhaust

He sat regally atop the immaculate sheets, a man of great power and even greater pride, his façade an impenetrable fortress. I couldn’t help but wonder in amazement how, even in the humbling hospital gown, he still managed to be surrounded with that air of invincibility. Truly, the man’s immortal. Or at least I thought he was.

Weary and emaciated… the ghosts of his past wrongdoings had finally caught up with him. The man whose word was the law, now an easy prey to doctors, herbalists, priests, faith healers and practically any peddler who claimed they hold the cure. At one point, it was a sort of twisted amusement for me to witness the fall of a god. The man who drank beer like water, now gulped down glassfuls of carrot juice. Cancer of the liver stage four, with metastasis to the brain. A massive fortune was spent to exhaust all therapeutic options on a desperate attempt to prolong his existence.

I stood to help him, he waved me away. He won’t even let me see him suffer. I waited for the apology that I was so sure was to arrive… his mournful remorse for his treatment of us. It never came. And all I could think of was ‘Great.’ Now how was he supposed to know that I cared for him. That in spite of my sensible faculties , I willed for him to live. How was he to know of the late nights I’d spent researching about his illness… scoured the earth – well, by studying – for that elusive, possibly non-existent elixir. I said nothing. I was too proud. I’m his daughter after all.

While it was true that I couldn’t wait to rid myself of him and his tyranny, somehow, I felt like it was too early… too unjust, even for him.

I’m tethered to him. Even three years after and six feet under, here he is, the subject of my story. I guess the damned bastard’s immortal after all.

333 words

When my godson was born…

…I stood transfixed, momentarily blinded by his beauty. His eyes were magnificent orbs of ebony flecked with sunlight… his hair, spun by angels as they sang exultant hymns on his moment of birth…

*wasn’t really planning on writing but here i thought of my lovely godson and got all sentimental. if i ever have a baby… oh, i sure hope there can be two of him! ^^

33 words of hyperbole

Trifextra: A Favorite Quote

“Journey quietly on your pathway to forever with charity and a smile. When you depart it will be said by all that your legacy was a better world than the one you found.”

From The Gift of Acabar
By Og Mandino and Buddy Kaye

This week at Trifecta, we’re asked to scour through our favorite pieces of literature and share the best 33 words we can find. I’ve read this book when I was in high school, and I’ve never forgotten the words. I’ve always felt like it has partly answered my question as to what our purpose is. So you can just imagine my surprise when I realized the whole quote’s exactly 33 words. ^^


I part my lips to partake
Of your flesh,
Drinking deeply
From your cup of blood;
I chose eternal damnation
Over a path of gold,
Our unholy bond
The only heaven I’ll know.

*I like the challenge of writing in 33 words ^^ I never actually thought I’d be able to express something through just a few words but yey I did. I urge you guys to join. ^^ (click on the button for instructions)