Posts Tagged ‘Campaigner Challenge’

Yes, I have figured out how these campaigns work, and unfortunately I didn’t sign up in time to be eligible to win any places. Still, I find it so much fun and it’s so exciting to see how all the other writers handle the challenge—even though I’m not a contender.

This last challenge was a real doozy. Here are the rules taken from Rach Writes’ Blog:

Use one or some or all of these prompts

Prompt 1:

Two people are sitting together under the remains of a concrete bridge. Their backs are against a rusted bridge support. One person’s leg is cut. The other person has wet hair.

Prompt 2:

Prompt 3

Prompt 4

Prompt 5


Do one or more of the following:

1. Write a pitch/logline for a book based on the prompts (less than 100 words)
2. Write a short story/flash fiction piece of less than 200 words based on the prompts
3. Write a poem with a twist using the prompts as inspiration (in less than 200 words)
4. Write a story/poem in five sentences, each sentence based on one of the prompts
5. Write a poem/flash fiction piece (in less than 200 words) about the water pear *without* using the words “pear”, “spoon”, or “droplet”.


Here’s my go at it.



As I watch from a bridge where seagulls soar,
the sun-kissed children searching rocky shore,
a squeal spins me to a red coat flashing by,
after an orb-like ball the wind let fly.

The small boy’s parents, busy with friends,
neglect to see the ball roll off the bridge’s end.
Luring the boy after, beneath my frozen stare,
the flash of red splashes—a dreadful water pear.

Darting to the edge, I barely take a breath,
don’t calculate the jump, don’t even think of death.
The water much further, more time regretting the fall,
pieces of me scream and shatter, as I hit the liquid wall.

The spot of red floats beneath, the glue-water hard to stir,
I reach the boy and struggle, up under the bridge in a blur.
Against a rusted support, I tiredly slump and stare,
at the red river trickling, from my leg’s deep tear.

The boy lets out a panicked cry,
as the water drips from his hair to his eyes.
“You’re safe now.” I try, searching for aid,
as a flash sparks before us—a glimmering cascade.

A tunnel of living light—heaven’s hall,
a knowing tear burns…I didn’t save us after all.

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