Little wonder we stumble in life.

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Trifecta – The Magic Number

“Three times,” said Carol flatly, disbelieving.

He shrugged. “It’s the magic number. Haven’t you ever seen the Simpsons?”

“The Simpsons doesn’t have three people in it, it has five. Six if you count grandpa.”

“No one ever counts grandpa,” he said. “And that’s not what I meant. Marge told Bart something three times, knowing he’d remember, and he did. Three has a funny effect on people. It’s a powerful weapon. Beware of it, and use it wisely.”

“Dude,” she said. “I think you’re nuts.”

“It’s a triumphant trifecta. And it’s no lie –”

“But what does it have to do with your level of honesty? Nothing. It can’t be anything else but a lie! Repeating something three times only proves your desperation for it to be true! It’s not; it’s just some superstitious nonsense that you made up.”

“Made up?” he sounded offended, as if she had just attacked him.

“We never are what we intend or invent about ourselves,” she reasoned, “Just because you can’t face the truth…”

“But I didn’t make it up. Lewis Carroll said it.”

“Oh, haha,” she retorted, “very funny. Lewis Carroll.”

“It’s not a joke. He was a real person!”

He?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, he was!”

She felt like her words shot right over his head. “Screw you.”

Instead of continuing to appear offended, he simply smiled back at her wryly. “Three is the magic number. Three is the magic number –”

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary!” she screamed. She looked around, smiling back at him. “See? No bloody Mary–” She was cut off by her own scream as a blood-soaked woman grabbed her shoulder.

Owen smiled back at her as he registered the sight before him, noticing Carol catch her breath. “Three is the magic number.”

One of three prompts at Trifecta.


Trifecta – Blue

Her eyes cast out over every blue surface around her. In her mind, the world may as well be tinged in blue, for all that she felt blue right now.

Her chest ached. No one ever warns you how slow a heart can break. Hers had been breaking for two years, and still she felt its effects whenever she thought of him. It’s like the continents of her soul were shifting into a new shape over millions of hours, bit by bit. Her scars were changing her.

He was just like her. So why did he reject her at every turn?

Coupled with the breaking of her heart came the lull of her drooping mind, like the weight of the world rested behind her eyes. Her energy dragged; she didn’t have the energy to smile, nor did she care when people asked her what was wrong. She didn’t even have the nerve to feel irritated by the frequency of their questions.

She couldn’t look anyone in the eyes anymore. Maybe she was afraid they’d see into her soul. Maybe she was just embarrassed, because looking into anyone’s eyes now just reminded her of his perfect globes, looking back with deep knowing like he understood.

Was it really all just lies? Or was there something else he was afraid of?

Honestly, part of her just felt like she didn’t know anything was real now. She was just floating through a world of ghosts. Only, she was the one who was transparent.

Transparent, but tinged in blue.

Prompt from Trifecta.