Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes Challenge


If you’ve been here before click Skip To Prompt.


With decades of writing behind me and daily learning of how to be a better writer, and by daily, I do mean constant, I wanted to give a way for current friends and future finders of this blog a way to push themselves to improve as well.

Through this challenge my hopes are you will:

  1. Find your voice
  2. Step out of comfort zones to discover a genre where your talent truly lies
  3. Perhaps make connections that will help you become a better writer


23:59 EST (New York Time) Wednesday. I will then have Thursday to complete reading the entries and compiling the links and such. I do read all entries. You can ask any of my Haiku Challenge family/community members.


  • Keep it PG as all ages do follow the blog and may click through and read the entries. (C0ntinue for exceptions.)
  • If you do write a piece of fiction that goes past the PG level, copy the link into the comments of this post and make a note of it being such and give the reasons you think it is, such as violence, sexual content, language/profanity.
  • No violence toward children by adults or predatory aspects toward children. I know you may have two kids have a fight. I get that, but I don’t want gratuitous violence such as glorifying bullying. Also I can see you having a kid kicking some bad guy in the face for some reason. I get it.
  • No sexual assault against anyone.


Copy and paste your URL in the comments of the challenge post, or do a ping back to this post. This does not mean you must share a link today, Friday, just because the challenge says Friday in it. It means you must return to this post or ping back to this post.

A ping back is copying and pasting the URL of the challenge post into your post. That lets people know about the challenge, sort of, and is one way to let me know you’ve entered. Just make certain to visit back here to see your ping back is showing. Confused? Click HERE to see how to do a ping back.

If your blog is with WordPress, TAG your post as Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes. This way people may find your work in the WP Reader.

IMPORTANT! For those wishing to participate in the possible FREE eBook Project for Fiction, click HERE for the Challenge Page with information at the bottom along with a form of agreement to fill out.


Prompt for Challenge #9

FIRST OF ALL: Please remember, this is NOT a race. Take your time. Friday is only a part of the title, not a deadline.

Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.

  1. Include the above sentence somewhere in your work of fiction. (Required.)
  2. Keep your word count at no more than 500 words this week. (Suggested.) Do NOT let your story suffer because of the word count limit. Remember, it is a suggested part of the prompt.

Some of you are now yelling at me. This can be a clue, an incantation/spell, a part of a poem, an ad a character reads in a paper or hears on the radio/TV, or just about anything. We often make using a prompt a lot more difficult than it needs to be.

Something to keep in mind this week is to proofread. Before you hit publish, spell check your work. Then read your work again, line by line. Seriously. One thing to do is to take your writing in a Word document and make each sentence a line all its own. There would be no paragraphs. By reading each line one at a time, you will see mistakes easier. I for one know the word you’re has been missed by two authors several times, when it should have been the word your. That could have made it to the published version.

Amber WakeRonovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in February of 2016. He shares his life through his blog His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as

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27 thoughts on “FRIDAY FICTION with RONOVAN WRITES Prompt Challenge #9

  1. Some wounds even time don’t heal
    By Neel Anil Panicker

    Small things such as as Death did not bother here at all.
    She was too busy living life or whatever was left of it.
    At 68, Rosie had nothing much to lose anyways. Her only child was well settled, by his standards, or at least that’s he wanted her to believe or she was led to believe. And then, maybe, that’s what she also liked to believe.
    And anyways, who bothers if it was not so otherwise.
    The only one who truly mattered and who truly loved her and who truly made here feel special was her dear husband.
    Poor guy, he was there with her through thick and thin, for close to 50 years. Oh! how they fought and how they loved, and how they made up thereafter.
    He was exactly what her mother had promised he would be just before she had stepped out of her cocooned existence and cut the apron strings that tied her to her loving mother and also a father who brought her up as she was Goddess Lakhsmi incarnate.

    At 18, you have dreams, dreams that you believe with all your heart will come true and
    her dear Dan (that’s what she had called her Daniel, her dear baby Daniel right from the first night of their marriage) was one such dream that came true.
    But that was it. She dreamed no more and it was all the more for the better for none of her dreams came true thereafter.
    Only once did she again dream when Richard, her dear baby Richie was born. Looking at the smiling, cute pinky visage of her first and only born, a dream took birth in her motherly bosom. A dream that this little bundle of joy smiling ‘oh so innocently’ would one day turn into a handsome young man, all loving, caring, and ‘oh so adorable’.

    The passage of time did see her bundle of joy turn into the promised young man, a promising man with promises to keep, exactly like she had visualised; but then instead of love and care all he provided in turn to his one and only mother, the woman who gave him birth and helped bring into this beautiful world was to kick her out of the house, the house he was born in, the house his father had bought with his sweat and toil, the house the two had dreamed would one become a home, filled with love and laughter, brimming with joy and happiness and its walls reverberating with the laughters and cries and shrieks of cute little children, her son’s children, their grand children, hers and Daniels’.

    Alas! the dream turned dust and life was bust.
    It was her sixth month on the street and the sixth day that she had gone without any food. But then that was normal, normal for her and other homeless like her.
    She had learned to be happy. She had no other choice. And then there was no one who she could turn to and complain? And complain about what?
    That her only child, her own blood had deserted her, left her on the streets to fend for herself in the big city__a city that he was born in, a city that cared only for itself, a city where success is defined by the number of cars that one can stack up in ones frontyard; a city which views every other human being who is not rich and does not possess a comfy three roomed apartment in a tony enclave a burden as a huge colossal societal dreg, a waste that needs to be discarded at haste.
    And so she was or so the others thought she was as she lay alone __lonely and destitute__under the bridge as life above bobbed, throbbed, pulsated and raced by.
    She was happy, and at least could lay claim to the fact that one among those racing by above in their fancy wheels in the never ending maddening race to get richer and richer was her own. And so what if thanks to him, she had joined the world of the ‘disowned’.
    As dusk fell and a shroud of darkness enveloped her bringing with it a thick coating of winter chill, she looked up heavenly, her parched lips breaking into a smile, the smile of a winner, murmurming to nobody in particular, ‘Come. Take me in your arms. I will be waiting. Who else but I know who knows that ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.’


    • Dear Friends, especially Mr Ronovan.
      I am extremely thankful to you for having us face such a challenge. I would request all of you to kindly post your comments on my posts. The feedback received would be invaluable. Thanks and all the best to all of you out there. Neel Anil Panicker


        • Thanks Mr Ronovan. my blog site is I tried to do a ping back but was unable to do so. I shall try to do that for my next prompt post, I promise. And thanks for your comments. I would readers to reply to my story above and post their valuable comments. Thanks Neel

          Liked by 1 person

          • blogspot doesn’t ping back to WordPress for some reason. 🙂 We are not sure why. I have some people that do my Haiku Challenge each week and they put the link to their entry in a comment. As long as we know where to go, we go. 🙂


  2. If you get this comment twice, sorry. My computer froze when it was “posting.” Anyway, it took me hot minute to figure out how and where to put that phrase but I loved the challenge. And as soon as I stopped thinking too hard, I just wrote some thoughts. It is not an action-packed story since it discusses grief and depression. So, not exciting per say but a topic that I think many can relate to. Either way, I enjoyed the writing practice so thank you for that.

    Liked by 1 person

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