Death By Scrabble – Share and Shine Sundays

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This ‘Share and Shine Sunday’ I wanted to post a great short story that I came across online. It is humorous and put a smile on my face, and I hope it does the same for you.

Check it out:

Charlie Fish

Death By Scrabble

It’s a hot day and I hate my wife.

We’re playing Scrabble. That’s how bad it is. I’m 42 years old, it’s a blistering hot Sunday afternoon and all I can think of to do with my life is to play Scrabble.

I should be out, doing exercise, spending money, meeting people. I don’t think I’ve spoken to anyone except my wife since Thursday morning. On Thursday morning I spoke to the milkman.

My letters are crap.

I play, appropriately, BEGIN. With the N on the little pink star. Twenty-two points.

I watch my wife’s smug expression as she rearranges her letters. Clack, clack, clack. I hate her. If she wasn’t around, I’d be doing something interesting right now. I’d be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. I’d be starring in the latest Hollywood blockbuster. I’d be sailing the Vendee Globe on a 60-foot clipper called the New Horizons – I don’t know, but I’d be doing something.

She plays JINXED, with the J on a double-letter score. 30 points. She’s beating me already. Maybe I should kill her.

If only I had a D, then I could play MURDER. That would be a sign. That would be permission.

I start chewing on my U. It’s a bad habit, I know. All the letters are frayed. I play WARMER for 22 points, mainly so I can keep chewing on my U.

As I’m picking new letters from the bag, I find myself thinking – the letters will tell me what to do. If they spell out KILL, or STAB, or her name, or anything, I’ll do it right now. I’ll finish her off.

My rack spells MIHZPA. Plus the U in my mouth. Damn.

The heat of the sun is pushing at me through the window. I can hear buzzing insects outside. I hope they’re not bees. My cousin Harold swallowed a bee when he was nine, his throat swelled up and he died. I hope that if they are bees, they fly into my wife’s throat.

She plays SWEATIER, using all her letters. 24 points plus a 50 point bonus. If it wasn’t too hot to move I would strangle her right now.

I am getting sweatier. It needs to rain, to clear the air. As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I find a good word. HUMID on a double-word score, using the D of JINXED. The U makes a little splash of saliva when I put it down. Another 22 points. I hope she has lousy letters.

She tells me she has lousy letters. For some reason, I hate her more.

She plays FAN, with the F on a double-letter, and gets up to fill the kettle and turn on the air conditioning.

It’s the hottest day for ten years and my wife is turning on the kettle. This is why I hate my wife. I play ZAPS, with the Z doubled, and she gets a static shock off the air conditioning unit. I find this remarkably satisfying.

She sits back down with a heavy sigh and starts fiddling with her letters again. Clack clack. Clack clack. I feel a terrible rage build up inside me. Some inner poison slowly spreading through my limbs, and when it gets to my fingertips I am going to jump out of my chair, spilling the Scrabble tiles over the floor, and I am going to start hitting her again and again and again.

The rage gets to my fingertips and passes. My heart is beating. I’m sweating. I think my face actually twitches. Then I sigh, deeply, and sit back into my chair. The kettle starts whistling. As the whistle builds it makes me feel hotter.

She plays READY on a double-word for 18 points, then goes to pour herself a cup of tea. No I do not want one.

I steal a blank tile from the letter bag when she’s not looking, and throw back a V from my rack. She gives me a suspicious look. She sits back down with her cup of tea, making a cup-ring on the table, as I play an 8-letter word: CHEATING, using the A of READY. 64 points, including the 50-point bonus, which means I’m beating her now.

She asks me if I cheated.

I really, really hate her.

She plays IGNORE on the triple-word for 21 points. The score is 153 to her, 155 to me.

The steam rising from her cup of tea makes me feel hotter. I try to make murderous words with the letters on my rack, but the best I can do is SLEEP.

My wife sleeps all the time. She slept through an argument our next-door neighbours had that resulted in a broken door, a smashed TV and a Teletubby Lala doll with all the stuffing coming out. And then she bitched at me for being moody the next day from lack of sleep.

If only there was some way for me to get rid of her.

I spot a chance to use all my letters. EXPLODES, using the X of JINXED. 72 points. That’ll show her.

As I put the last letter down, there is a deafening bang and the air conditioning unit fails.

My heart is racing, but not from the shock of the bang. I don’t believe it – but it can’t be a coincidence. The letters made it happen. I played the word EXPLODES, and it happened – the air conditioning unit exploded. And before, I played the word CHEATING when I cheated. And ZAP when my wife got the electric shock. The words are coming true. The letters are choosing their future. The whole game is – JINXED.

My wife plays SIGN, with the N on a triple-letter, for 10 points.

I have to test this.

I have to play something and see if it happens. Something unlikely, to prove that the letters are making it happen. My rack is ABQYFWE. That doesn’t leave me with a lot of options. I start frantically chewing on the B.

I play FLY, using the L of EXPLODES. I sit back in my chair and close my eyes, waiting for the sensation of rising up from my chair. Waiting to fly.

Stupid. I open my eyes, and there’s a fly. An insect, buzzing around above the Scrabble board, surfing the thermals from the tepid cup of tea. That proves nothing. The fly could have been there anyway.

I need to play something unambiguous. Something that cannot be misinterpreted. Something absolute and final. Something terminal. Something murderous.

My wife plays CAUTION, using a blank tile for the N. 18 points.

My rack is AQWEUK, plus the B in my mouth. I am awed by the power of the letters, and frustrated that I cannot wield it. Maybe I should cheat again, and pick out the letters I need to spell SLASH or SLAY.

Then it hits me. The perfect word. A powerful, dangerous, terrible word.

I play QUAKE for 19 points.

I wonder if the strength of the quake will be proportionate to how many points it scored. I can feel the trembling energy of potential in my veins. I am commanding fate. I am manipulating destiny.

My wife plays DEATH for 34 points, just as the room starts to shake.

I gasp with surprise and vindication – and the B that I was chewing on gets lodged in my throat. I try to cough. My face goes red, then blue. My throat swells. I draw blood clawing at my neck. The earthquake builds to a climax.

I fall to the floor. My wife just sits there, watching.

 

Feel free to share your thoughts on this story in the comment area. The original posting, and many others, can be found Here. 

If you have a story or piece of work you would like to share please email submissions to:
perfectlyprompted@live.ca 
(Please state if you would like to remain anonymous) 

My Friend The ‘Writer’… the importance of a strong writing network

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Success in writing is the result of many things, besides hard work and good writing. Writers need to form a strong network of support, they need constant inspiration and often reassurance. Thanks to the world of technology getting acquainted and connected with other writers all over the world can be easily achieved without ever having to leave the comfort of your home.

There are many benefits to connecting with other writers, joining writing groups, or simply creating a network of like-minded individuals.  By surrounding yourself with like-minded people who share your interest and passion for writing you will have the ability to share thoughts, find inspiration, and even vent your frustrations from time to time. Building a support network of aspiring writers allows you to share in the glory and attain success.

I have found that I am the only one of my friends or family that has that deep-rooted passion for writing, though supportive of my goals, never seem to truly understand my desire and ‘need’ to write. They will read my posts and encourage my writing, they will listen when I talk and even help me when I struggle, but the passion is just not there for them, and I can feel it. This lack of interest or excitement can often frustrate me, and has even made me feel bad for “bothering” them with my writing. Many times friends have assured me that this is not the case, but if you have ever tried to talk to someone about a subject that is of no interest to them, you will understand what I mean…. Yes, the person can often be helpful, they will listen politely and offer help where they can, but their heart will not be in it, and you will end up feeling bad. You will have guilt , and worry about annoying or overwhelming them, and so eventually instead of asking for their advice or help when you need it you simply keep your thoughts to yourself. This is the worst thing a writer can do if they hope to succeed in writing, that is why I feel it is important that every writer finds at least one person, or place that they can openly discuss writing as much or as little as they desire.

Though I do aim to have this site be that place one day, there are many other great outlets for writers available online that will allow you to connect and discuss all aspects of your writing. Feel free to share here though as This site is open to any discussions, you are welcome to post links, ask for help or vent your frustrations on the “Get Connected” page above, but if you are looking for other outlets, (as I usually do) then below is a list of different sites for writers

Of course I could list hundreds more, but this is a few for the time being. Check them out and see all the benefits they have to offer, also feel free to share your own links below…. and don’t forget that Perfectly Prompted is open to ideas and willing to help you out in any way it can, make this site whatever you need it to be by visiting the “Get Connected” Page and positing any questions, thoughts, or ideas you may have….

Until Next Time…

Write On!

Share and Shine Sunday’s #1 – What is What?

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To kick off the start of Share and Shine Sundays I am going to share with you one of my favorite poems Phenomenal Woman By Maya Angelou. I suggest that you take a moment to read this poem and consider how it makes you “feel” Then take a look at the follow-up questions and answer a few if you wish in the comments area….

Phenomenal Woman
By: Maya Angelou 

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.

I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.

I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.

I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.

I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.


Questions To Consider:

  • How does this poem make you feel? Why?
  • Did you enjoy reading it? Why/Why Not?
  • What would you change about it if you could? Why?
  • Are there any errors, typos, or other suggestions that you can point out to the writer?
  • If you had to describe this poem in one word, which word would you use?
  • How would you explain this poem to some who has yet to read it? What is it about?
  • If you had to rate this poem on a scale of 1 – 5 (1 = worst and 5 = best) What would you rate it? Why?
  • Do you have any other thoughts, comments, ideas or suggestions for this writer that would help to improve this piece?
    (e.g. was there anything lacking, anything you wished was more detailed, anything that left you wondering or waiting..etc..)

As Always You Are Encouraged To Share Your Comments

**********************

The main focus of “Share and Shine Sunday’s” is going to be having a place for writers to connect and help one another to grow. Anyone is welcome to share their writing (in any form) and have readers share their thoughts, opinions, and suggestions on the piece. You can choose to do this openly, or simply let me know that you wish to remain anonymous and I will post your piece without anyone having to know where it came from…
(Should you choose to post anonymously I will send a verification email to you that will be a way of protecting your rights to your work and to ensure that no one else can take credit for your writing.)

Also welcome for Share and Shine Sundays are any writing questions, issues, or problems that you would like help resolving/answering. So send in any questions or concerns you may have….

Get connected, Get inspired, Get writing!


Submissions for Share and Shine Sunday’s can be sent to:
perfectlyprompted@live.ca

Until Next Time…

Write On!

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