Monthly Archives:April 2012

Moira waited backstage while the opening act prepped the crowd. She loved the sound of the cloggers’ taps and the responding thunder from thousands of feet in the audience. “It gets to me soul, Padraig, it gets to me soul.”

Giving her a peck on her cheek, Padraig Mullan waited for her benediction, a rub on his bald pate, then ran out to greet the crowd.

“She’s coming, boyos. She’s soon here, lassies. The finest soul in Ireland is waiting to meet you, to t’rill your hearts. Tell her how much she means to you, now. I give to you the blessed voice of an angel; the one and only MOIRA!”
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those darlin’ editors at Trifecta have given yet another challenge. This time we are to write 33-333 words using THUNDER in its third definition. 111 words is multiply-able (is, too, a word) by 3 giving 333. (clever, ms. moosie, clever)

I’m Irish by descent and a lover of Irish music and rhythms. Moira speaks to my soul, darlin’ Padraig.

thun•der noun \ˈthən-dər\

1: the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge
2: a loud utterance or threat
3: bang, rumble [the thunder of big guns]

Here are a few more viewpoints for the 33×3 Trifextra Challenge. Thanks to those who commented. I cannot say I understand exactly what goes on in anyone’s brain . . . but I have heard many of these comments.
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Prosecutor: Defense attorney says his client wants a deal. They all do. Can’t admit their own actions caused this. They just want the easy way out. I hate this part of the job.

Defendant: Bitch deserved it! If she hadn’t talked back I wouldn’t have had to slap her. Damn cops always arrest the man. She’ll be sorry when I get out of here. Not guilty!

Victim Advocate: I can only sit here and hold her hand. God, she’s shaking! Wish I could tell the jury the other stuff this perv has done to her. She deserves much better.

Juror 1: The pictures! Bloodied face. Blackened eyes. Broken fingers. This isn’t like CSI on TV. I think I’m going to be sick. Why didn’t she just leave the bastard? I hate this!

Magistrate: Another domestic violence case. Another broken victim. Another unrepentant perpetrator. The pictures! God! They tear me up. Juror 3 is nodding off – unbelievable! Wish I could do more. I hate this job!

Defense Attorney: Just doing my job – this guy’s a scum bag. I told him to clean up. Juror 5 looks sympathetic. God! Look at those pictures. Some days I really hate this job.
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The Trifextra challenge this weekend is to write a scene involving 3 people – 3 sections – 33 words each.

In my “real” life I oversee a domestic violence intervention program. Part of my job requires attending court sessions – after the fact – once I’ve had to non-comply a participant. In my mind I often write scripts – hopeful wording perhaps – for the people involved in the cases. My job is hard enough. I cannot imagine how hard it is for the people involved in such cases. I must say that the defense attorneys and I do not always see eye to eye. I’m hoping they really do have a conscience such as my pretend one above.

By the way, the comment from Juror 1 about why the victim didn’t just leave? We hear that a lot – that is putting the blame onto the VICTIM not on the perpetrator. There are LOTS of reasons she may not be able to leave. Learn more here: National Coalition Against Domestic Violence.

Thanks for reading.