Writing Challenge #3

YOU ROCK Button (3)


  1. WRITE: In 200 words or less, make your reader laugh and then cry.  Two very different emotions in a short amount of time.  What do you think? Are you up for the challenge?
  2. COMMENT: You MUST comment on FOUR other entries to qualify. If you do not, your entry will be disqualified from the challenge. Give and take… Keep the cycle going.
  3. ***IMPORTANT*** In order to qualify, you MUST vote for your TOP TWO choices. If you don’t vote, you cannot win this challenge (even if you receive the most votes!). To vote, you need to reply to the email that goes out for the Weekly Challenges. In that email, if you scroll to the bottom, you will see all the information you need to vote for this challenge.You must join our mailing list in order to receive the weekly voting email. 
  4. DEADLINE: Tuesday, April 12th at 11:59 p.m. PST. Voting booth will open for this challenge on Wednesday, April 13th, and the winners will be announced the following Wednesday, April 20th.
  5. CONGRATULATIONS: To the winners of Challenge #1… Dave Allen, Annalie Buscarino and Thomas Paine!


Have fun!

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Author Notes

73 Comments for “Writing Challenge #3”

Jay Heltzer


“Wheres our guy?”
“What guy?”
“Our guy.”
“We have a guy?”
“The waiter. That’s his name…Guy.”
“Its pronounced Guy, like flea.”
“Oui…its French.”
“Shaddup! Where is our guy Guy?”

Guy didn’t hear this exchange. He was still in the kitchen trying to reassemble his tray after spilling soup on the floor near the stove. His two customers made him nervous since he knew they worked for Albert Falbreque. Albert loaned the young waiter $70,000 to open a restaurant which Guy didn’t manage very well. He only had two boxes of linen napkins to show for it while the rest was misfiled by a county representative and untraceable in the system.

Guy wasn’t sure they recognized him, but there was no one else working with him in the small cafe, so it was him and him alone. He reassembled his tray and walked outside.

He brought the tray out and as he leaned over to place the soup bowls down, a sharp piercing pain shot through his right side. Looking down, Guy heard “Mr. Falbreque sends his regrets for your failed business”, as the small, glistening knife was pulled from Guy’s side.


Wow! you did make us laugh at the beginning, and then such a twist of fate! Great lead into this story, and I never would have guessed they were there to “collect” on his debt! This one hit me hard, Jay. Great job!

Write On!

M.L. Bull


I wish I could post the whole part of this scene because it’s a really good part of my story ‘Mercy’ the second novel of my series, but because of the 200 word limit, I can’t post it all.

Here a portion of it: 🙂

From ‘Mercy’, book 2:

BJ entered the kitchen and found Hazel sitting alone at the square table in the center of the room. She was staring out the window at the setting sun, her hands woven under her chin.

“Hazel, honey, you okay?” BJ said, raising his eyebrow.

Hazel sighed, tucked her reddish-brown, chin-length hair behind her ear, and crossed her arms onto the table. “I don’t know, BJ. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” A smile played upon her lips and she burst with snickering laughter. But quickly, laughing turned into crying as she lowered her head.

BJ frowned and joined his apparently distressed wife at the kitchen table. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m right here.” He rubbed his hand on her back and studied her actions. Something was obviously bothering Hazel, only he didn’t know what it was.

Hazel wiped her eyes and fanned her hands toward her face, as if trying to get a grip of herself. But BJ looked in her watery, hazel eyes and saw that the tears wouldn’t seem to stop coming.


This is such a great description of helpless sorrow. The visual of her sitting there, starting to laugh and melting into tears was very well done. I feel sorry for the consoling husband who doesn’t know what’s wrong. Great entry!

Write On!


Bob leaned over the bed and kissed his wife’s forehead. She opened her eyes. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m going to see her. Get some sleep.”

“Do you remember which room?”

“C’mon, I don’t get lost that easily.” He squeezed her hand and walked out.

The nurse found Bob wandering the hallway, squinting into each doorway. “I’m not lost. Really,” he sputtered before identifying himself. She led him into to a dimmed room.

“Can I hold her?” She gestured to a rocking chair; Bob sat while she brought over a tiny bundle wrapped snugly in a pink blanket. He gingerly took the child and held her close, rocking slowly back and forth. He tried to think of a lullaby, settling on a tune from the White Album. “…Now the sun turns out his light/ Good night, sleep tight/ Dream sweet dreams for me/ Dream sweet dreams for you…”

After several minutes, he motioned to the nurse and handed her back the child. “Does she have a name,” she asked.

“Kathleen. After her grandmother.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. Bob smiled weakly in response and left the room as the nurse placed the tiny body back on a cold metal tray in the corner.


So, he went to see a dead baby?? That last line totally floored me. The baby being placed on a cold metal tray. So dehumanizing…. I got shivers for the rest of the day now. Thanks.

Write On!


See, this is what happens when you don’t edit. In the first line, Bob’s wife is in a hospital bed, but I was too slick to actually write that. But nice to know I can disturb an otherwise peaceful day for you.


Well, it makes more sense with her in the hospital. For some reason, I had this picture of them at home, and then he left and went to the hospital. Yeah, a lead that she was in the hospital, maybe just had the baby. It doesn’t feel like she knows the baby is dead. Only he does for now? Getting the shivers, again…out-a-here!


Andrew and Charles ran down stairs giggling with teddies under one arm and the legs gripped tightly in their hands. Sliding on the polished wood floors like skaters they banged heads laughing as the arrived at Daddies Office door.
Surprised by them bursting through the door Dad took off his glasses smiling and swivelled his chair to face them, “now boys slow down, what have we here?”
Andrew nudged Charles and together they placed the decapitated bears in his lap.
“We did make them just like you Daddy” said Andrew.
“If Daddy don’t have legs then teddies don’t need them either” nodded Charles in agreement.


“Two guys walk into a bar; the third one ducks.”

No one could tell a joke like Billy. His favourite were ‘dad-jokes’. I always thought he’d be a great dad himself someday. I loved how red he turned as he split a gut laughing. Sometimes he couldn’t even get the joke out. It was contagious. I can’t help myself but laugh right now. I’m pretty sure I’d not be alone.

But I was.

Alone in a whole crowd of friends and family, dressed in black.

God, I miss him.

Tim Hillebrant


This was really good, Doug!

Another gut punch, too. I think we all have that friend we loved, then lost, and miss a lot when they’re gone.



I watched as the young children played in the park. High-pitched voices tinkled with laughter and mischievous chatter as the youngsters tittered on sea saws and swings, running to and from each park activity as if their lives depended on it, pushing and teasing to get there first. Their voices and antics made me chuckle softly. I loved coming here to watch them play. It did my heart good to see their joy in the moment; enjoying life minute-by-minute without a thought or care of the past or future. They showed no fear.

I stood up from the bench and continued on my morning walk to the cemetery. Joey would be waiting for me. He loved the park. I would tell him of the children playing here today. Flashbacks of his cancer-wasted body blurred my vision as tears escaped my tired eyes. I wiped them away and forced a smile. He wouldn’t want to see me sad.

Tim Hillebrant


“Hey John, your wife told me a joke, want to hear it?”
“She did? What was the joke?”
“A man walks into a bar, his friend ducked.”
“That’s pretty good, I wonder why she didn’t tell me?”
“Probably because she told me when we were in bed, and she mentioned having to get up to meet the lawyer for the divorce papers.”

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