Great Minds (an oddity that just happened in my brain)

The man stood in front of Raxa, looking exasperated. He had apparently been running his hands through his hair, and it was standing up on end, giving him something of the look of a young mad professor.
Raxa wasn’t sure why the man was exasperated. Raxa hadn’t really been paying attention to what he’d been saying for the last five minutes. Raxa, the greatest intellect of the Arquens, had more important things on his mind.
‘Aren’t you going to say anything at all?’ asked the young mad professor.
‘Yes,’ said Raxa. ‘I’ve been thinking. Shouldn’t there be a better word for orangeness than ‘orangeness’?’
The hair-on-end man stared in disbelief.
‘Orangicity’. Yes. I like the sound of that,’ said Raxa, ruminatively.
‘You’re the greatest mind among your people, it’s the end of your world as you know it, and you’re worried that the state of being orange isn’t expressed properly at the moment??’
Raxa turned surprised purple eyes upon him. ‘The end of the world? Oh, I worked that out hours ago. All they need to do is turn off the anti-gravity system and switch to external back-up.’
The man clutched at his hair, unable even to formulate suitable words.
‘On the other hand, there is a lot to be said for ‘orangicality’…’
But the man had gone.
Raxa settled back down into his chair. The universe was going mad. What were things coming to when you couldn’t even think about oranges without people bursting in on you and telling you the world was ending?
There were some points in favour of ‘orangious’, too.

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Trifecta challenge – 3rd definition of Blind

Stupidity

Why did I let myself believe
Hope against hope with no reprieve
Telling myself it could never be
Yet hanging on eternally
Life’s too short but time takes forever
Fly my fantasies into never
Cursing myself for stupidity
Yet hanging on eternally
The truth is I can’t seem to forget
All your looks, everything you said
When all’s said and done, we reach the end
Love is blind, but so is chance – and so are you, my friend

Trifecta Challenge – 3rd definition of Ample.

The Honourable Matthew Felton was having a trying day. His father had that morning expressed his intention to cut off his heir without a penny if a marriage did not occur within the next month. Matthew did not object to marriage in itself, but to be threatened with a life of impecunious ignominy if one did not enter into that supposedly blessed state within a month was simply too much. He thought about refusing, but he knew his father too well to doubt his word.
He had departed from his house rather abruptly, and was now walking very briskly down Bond Street, gripping his gold-headed cane with unnecessary force.
In his uncomfortable and unhappy broodings, he quite forgot to look where he was going, and collided with a woman who was proceeding very quickly in the other direction. The impact caused her to drop several packages she was carrying, and some moments were spent retrieving them. He looked at her properly in order to begin apologizing, and found himself spellbound. She was beautiful. Admittedly rather more ample in figure than he usually liked, as his taste until now had always run to slender nymphs, but she was undoubtedly beautiful. Her large brown eyes looked frankly into his, and she apologized in a voice that spoke music to his heart.
He blurted out the first thing that came into his head. “Will you marry me?”
She was obviously shocked. “We have not even been introduced, sir! You have not the least idea who I might be. I could be anyone!”
“You could,” Matthew agreed, in the tone of someone making a discovery, “but it would make no difference to me.”

Trifextra – the Rule of Three… Plus 33!

This week’s Trifextra asked us to add to one of our own previous 33-word challenges. I chose this one, as it received quite a lot of attention, and I personally felt 33 words weren’t ever enough first time round.

Twice already she’d told him. Today would be the third time. The charm. She waited outside the office with butterflies churning. Today was February 29th, and he had to say yes this time.

It wasn’t that she minded waiting; she’d wait for him forever, but he desperately needed to be loved.
He came out of his office and didn’t see her.
The bullet went wide.

Trifecta Writing Challenge – the third definition of ‘radical’

Moira was not a curtain-twitcher. She despised people who were. She hated those horrid old ladies who twitched their lace net curtains and gossipped behind everyone’s backs. She hated them more than ever today. And today she twitched the plain burgundy velvet curtains in her front room – she had just that morning changed the curtains because Autumn was well and truly settled in- but she only twitched them because she was anticipating his arrival.
Her first thought when they visited this afternoon had been, nasty old bats, trying to cause trouble between Arthur and I! But as they had twittered on, she’d slowly, unwillingly begun to listen.
What they had insinuated was honestly disturbing. In these difficult times it wasn’t safe for people to have any views other than the accepted ones, and what they were suggesting was that Arthur’s ideas might be … almost radical. Frightening.
So now she stood by the window, waiting for him to come home.
She swallowed hard as she heard the engine of Arthur’s Talbot 75 grumble to a halt on the driveway. He was home. And now she would have to confront him. She hoped it was all a mistake, or a malicious lie. Even then it could damage them. But if by any chance it happened to be true, then it could destroy them totally.
She stood, a pale upright figure, standing out starkly against the burgundy wine colour of the winter curtains, waiting for the door to open. Waiting for her world to end.