Weekly Challenge! May 21-28

Weekly Challenge! May 21-28

Alright, ready for another challenge?

Write your response to the following with at max 600 words. Read the prompt and write the first thing that comes to mind, or think about it for a few days and submit a more polished piece. Winners announced and featured on my website Friday May 28! Make sure to vote on others’ works so a winner can be chosen!

Here’s the Prompt:

Write about the Witching Hour

-subnote- I am waiting for enough responses to actually post a winner. So perhaps I should call this the ‘monthly’ contest! The famous designer, Hans Moritz (same guy who designed Cyclops’ eyepiece in the movie X-Men), will illustrate the winner’s entry… so PLEASE WRITE AN ENTRY, READ, AND VOTE! 🙂

17 Responses to “Weekly Challenge! May 21-28”

  1. Adam21 says:

    How do you vote?
    Just say which piece of prose etc you like the best?

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  2. Karen Elliott says:

    Witchy –
    It’s about 13 minutes before midnight. I just added the eye of newt and all the other usual shit – a bat wing and the head of a toad and several hairs of a rabid dog. I’m reading this book, and I’m thinking, are they kidding me? I stir. I have this stirrer that’s about as big as a baseball bat, only longer – like what Reggie Jackson – Mr. October – would have used.
    I notice the smoke as soon as it starts to rise and swirl from the big iron pot and I figure, “Hey, this is working!” and I get all excited because this is the first spell that might actually work for me. I call mom on my cell, and then she gets all excited and says things like, “that’s my girl!” and “you spell it, woman!”
    I’m wearing a long black brocade coat (it hits the floor, how medieval is that?) and my fingernails are coated with dark, blood-red polish (on sale at Wal-Mart). And then this face drifts up out of the pot and it speaks to me and it says…

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  3. Adam21 says:

    The witching hour, the last hour before dawn when the night is darkest; there are those who say that this is when the connection between the real world and the supernatural world is strongest. This is the time of skewed perceptions and fractured realities, and for some this is a time of power.

    Marigold swept into the room, the multi-coloured shawl which covered her shoulders and chest was matched with her green and black leggings. Simone glanced across at her before completing the double-take and staring at her in silence for several moments.
    “What are you dressed like that for?” asked Simone finally.

    Marigold looked down at herself, a look of confusion upon her face, “I was only trying to get into the spirit of the occasion”, she said.

    Simone took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the heavens, “Why me?” she mouthed silently. Turning her attention to the book which lay upon a nearby table she opened it before freezing and turning back to Marigold, “Just a minute,” she said, “Spirit of the occasion? That was one of your jokes wasn’t it?”

    Marigold grinned broadly and giggled before raising her hand toward Simone in a thumbs-up gesture. Simone turned her attention back to the book which she browsed through until she reached a certain page.
    “Did you remember all the ingredients I asked for?”
    “Certainly did Simone,” said Marigold, before reaching under her shawl and bringing a supermarket bag into view before tossing it over. Simone caught it deftly and rummaged through the content, raising an eyebrow as she did so.
    “Rather unsurprisingly you have forgotten something, where’s the mandrake?”
    “I left it where it was out in the shed,” said Marigold.
    Simone blinked, “Why?” she asked.
    “You told me this morning that all forms of life should be treated with the same respect we would ask for ourselves”.
    Simone forced a smile, “You are quite right I did indeed say that. However in this instance we can make an exception, would you please go and get me some mandrake?”
    “Not really,” said Marigold.
    “Why not?”
    “Agnes phoned up this afternoon and asked if she could have some Psilocybian mushrooms for astral projection. I told her there wouldn’t be anyone in but she could find the key to the shed under the rock in the garden”.
    “Marigold, does Agnes still have the key?”
    “Well you did always tell me the shed should be kept as secure as possible”.

    Simone stared at Marigold and her eyes turned black, the pins which held her hair in place being thrown aside as it swiftly expanded outwards, changing from light brown to blood red as it did so. Marigold instinctively backed off a couple of steps and swallowed in fear as Simone approached, this was going to hurt.

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  4. Lori Moritz says:

    I love the concept of “fractured realities”

    This is quite funny!

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  5. Midnight came and went many times today.

    I have never experienced this before. I knew no one was looking when I started turning my head around like an owl to see all the midnights lining up around me.

    One started speaking to me. Come. Come this way. Another started speaking. Come this way! It was like when my husband and I would spin our son around on a swivel chair and then both call him to run to us in different directions, and watch him fall over.

    Midnight was playing. And so it was time. Time for something.

    A little test of what different possibilities could be like in different repeating times. I gave myself a kiss. On the arm. I petted my ankle. I caressed my face. All in different midnights. I was trying to learn to remember what it was like to feel adored, touched because of being beautiful. My only option was myself.

    If I did something nice for my skin in many midnights at once, would there come a point at which all of them would hit me simultaneously? I liked the linearity of the repetition, but am a big fan of the non linear. And being touched sweetly all at once in many places by myself was sounding really fun.

    I ran my hand through my hair. I pulled my toes. I felt along the line of my hip, with my hand cupped, feeling the tautness of the shape. I traced the edges of my lips.

    I felt so loved, and had been so lonely for long, longing for touch, I was ecstatic when suddenly, all the midnights I had just participated in collapsed in on themselves from the weight, and I became like a Picasso painting.

    All directions at once, angles at once, like an orgy of self appreciation, self sufficiency, and different sensations all at once, all on the stroke of midnight, the witching hour.

    Midnight and I were in love forever. And then, time got quiet, and serene. And the little creek flowed on, tinkling, flashing beside me in the moonlight, and I stared into its linearity, my eyes gazing into the distance, content.

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    • Lori Moritz says:

      Lovely. I love the Picasso simile. That a singularity of possibilities could contract into an assorted body makes sense. It also makes me wonder if Picasso had looked into time and space and layers of them as a sort of fourth dimensionality. I can just see faces layered on top of faces in time.

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    • Ocean says:

      That was really beautifully touching, Tantra!
      Really moving, powerfully heartfelt story.
      Both thumbs up for conjuring into the written word reflections of the vulnerable strength which resides in us all.

      I vote for your story!

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    • ocean says:

      Why cant I like Tantra Benskos story? When I try to click the thumbs up, nothing happens. But if I hover over Lori Moritz response thumbs, they seem clickable.

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  6. ocean says:

    Nope. Still not working, but when hovering over Loris thumbs they pop up like they will work.

    Hmmm.? Is there another page where Tantra’s story is that I can “like” it?

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  7. The Witching Hour

    In European folklore, the witching hour is the time when supernatural creatures such as witches, demons and ghosts are thought to be at their most powerful, and black magic at its most effective. This hour is typically midnight.

    Hour of the Rat – 11.00 pm to 12.59 pm

    In Chinese philosophy, this time of night brings out the characteristics of being handsome and charming, generally opened minded and honest. Rat is friendly, full of creativity and shrewd.


    Translation translation. It’s all in the translation. Everyone’s got a different name for it. In my land, we just call it “Now”.

    One day some guy with a big cross and a sword came along and called it “Witching Hour” and killed a whole bunch of us. Another guy who kept bowing and had a really sweet smile, told us it was called the “Hour of the Rat”.

    I wonder what other folks call this hour when all is hushed . . . all hushed that is, except for those folks in the next land over who try to outshine even Sister Moon and to outshout Uncle Thunder. The neighbors’ lights hurt my eyes. Car alarms and amplified music offend my receptors of song.
    And not just my senses are assaulted – it is affecting us all.


    The hush is gone. I heard it leave. It is closing the door behind itself.

    “Wait for me!”

    If I hurry I can slip through the crack and …

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    • Lori Moritz says:

      Wow! Lynette, I love this! First of all… you inspired me to do some research on chinese astral signs. Second of all, you had me research the origin of the term “The Witching Hour.” Third… I loved this idea that current technology has shut out the receptivity of such concepts…

      I originally came up with the idea of the Witching Hour because when I was a little girl… maybe 10 or 11… I had read about it somewhere, and would often refuse to sleep until it had passed. That is what I should now write about, I think!

      L, Lori

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  8. Adam21 says:

    Tantra wins this one surely??

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