Home Read What's New Join
My Account Login

Read Our Devotional             2016 Opportunities to be Published             Detailed Navigation

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge



how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level


submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners

Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.



how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Inspiration/Block (for the writer) (05/20/10)

TITLE: Quickened
By Ann Grover


My imagination was dead: to begin with.

There’d been no formal acknowledgment of its demise, no epitaph giving tribute, but it had died, nonetheless. Ideas had dried up, brilliant thoughts evaporated.

I visited the library, loading up with writing manuals and classics, hoping I might yet resuscitate some creativity. A girl with a twinkling stud in her lip scanned my books.

“Written any bestsellers lately, Mr. Finch?”

I scowled.

“Seen our new arrivals?”

Why would I look at the fruit of others’ successes when my own genius had withered?

Smiling, she passed me the books. “Have a good day, Mr. Finch.”

“Bah,” I muttered.

At home, I closed my office door and flipped through several of the borrowed books, but nothing moved me. I turned on the computer. The blank screen stared at me tauntingly.

I dozed.

The “ping” of an incoming email awakened me, but the tone was ominous, foreboding. Suddenly, the office door banged open, ushering in a spectral form with a frayed computer cord wrapped around its middle, from which dangled pencils, rolled manuscripts, and a dictionary. Tattered typewriter ribbons shackled the phantom’s ankles.

“Do you know me?” The shadowy form jerked the cord and pages fluttered from the manuscripts.

“You are my departed imagination. What do you want?”

“I am closer to you than you believe. Tonight, three spirits will visit you. Heed them and there may be hope. For my release and for your writing.” With that, he disappeared.

Second helpings of hot wings, guacamole, and pistachio ice cream had obviously affected my senses.

Immediately, I heard hoofbeats pounding up the stairs. A knight on a charger galloped through the door and slid to a stop, scattering books and papers.

“Are you a spirit?” I trembled in astonishment.

“I am Spiritus Historicus. Come, mount up.”

His armoured hand reached down, pulling me up behind the saddle.

We cantered through the wall and across the moonlit sky, until we reached a swelling sea.

“See the schooner sailing blithely into an oncoming storm? You could write an epic.”

“I know nothing about sailing.”

“You have books, the internet. Google it, lad.”

We cantered past cathedrals and huts, homesteads and pyramids, mammoths and Roman legions.

“I won’t write about this. It’s been done. Repeatedly.”

“Not by you!” He spurred the horse, and we wheeled through battlefield haze. “You’ve never tried.”

“Take me back!”

A colossal snore roused me: my own. The email tone sounded again, as portentous as before.

“Hey, Mr. Finch!” The lip-pierced, neon-nailed girl from the library sat on my bookshelf.

“Are you a spirit?”

“Totally. Spiritus Contemporanus. Let’s go.”

She led me through the closed window. The sun dazzled me, and I was further amazed when the girl flew up into a tree.

“Fly, Mr. Finch. Believe.”

I did and I flew.

“Mr. Finch, you need new source material.”

We perched above a summery scene: my own family picnicking in the park. The boys munched hot dogs while my wife sunbathed, reading. My father was sleeping, slumped under a tree.

“I can’t write about family.”

“Everyone you know has a story. Find it. Tell it. Edit unwanted material later.” She popped her gum. “Vampires are very popular nowadays,” she added slyly.


“You stifle yourself, Mr. Finch. Look!” She lifted her long black sweater, revealing battered and scuffed boots. “The boots are named Obstinacy and Desire. You’ve worn these boots a lot, Mr. Finch, but they’ve never taken you anywhere. You stubbornly refuse to acquire knowledge, and your motives for writing are selfish.”

She was gone, and instantly, another shape approached. A shining holographic entity.

“I am Spiritus Prospectus.”

“I thought so.” I sighed.

“You dislike futuristic fiction?”

“Well, I...”

“You think it inferior?”

“I think it blasphemous.”

“How so?”

“Only God knows the future.”

“Are you not able to imagine? Dream?” The figure pulsated violently.


“Enough! You have endless subjects: intergalactic colonization, bio-robotics, cloning. But, your fear and hesitation will cause your gift to die. It’s no sin to ponder the future. Remember God is already there.”

I longed to touch the image, but it dissolved into a shimmering pool.

I awoke, drooling into the keyboard, the spacebar grooving my cheek. My office was silent.

I went to the window and saw ordinary, but splendid, sunshine and trees. I breathed and inhaled the breath of a thousand past kings, warriors, and explorers. Scudding clouds formed castles and dragons, a pagoda, a spaceship. I trembled. My fingers twitched.

God, bless me.

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.

This article has been read 800 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Carol Slider 05/31/10
I am the Ghost of Thursday Yet to Come, and I foresee a winner... :)

Wow--this is amazing... a clever, humorous, intriguing spot-on parody. How did you manage to do all that with 750 words? I'm in awe! Very, very well done.
Kate Oliver Webb 05/31/10
Delightful creativity here; well written, great dialogue and story-telling. Descriptions were good; I was drawn right in. What fun!
Carol Penhorwood 05/31/10
Save me from the spirits of my past! Whatever has lingered will likely become a part of my future.

Very creative! Wouldn't be surprised a bit to see a winner in this one.
AnneRene' Capp06/01/10
Loved this cascaded journey. Also reaped a harvest of valuable inspiration!
Terry R A Eissfeldt 06/02/10
Wow! Awesome! Very funny but true!
Loved the names of the boots.
Lollie Hofer06/02/10
Incredible! I not only liked Mr. Finch but your creavity oozed all over the place. You did a lot with 750 words. This is one of my favorites.
Kimberly Russell06/02/10
Wow- I too was wondering how to get the whole story out within the word count and you did a fine job by choosing just the right words. Well done--an enjoyable read.
Rachel Phelps06/02/10
I had to grin from the first line. Ah, such a wonderful tribute to Dickens. And this story! My favorite this week. Amazing creativity.
Karen Rice06/02/10
This is my favorite. 'nough said.
Susan Montaperto06/02/10
I love reading Dickens and I loved reading this. Mr. Finch and the ghosts were very entertaining. And yes I do know what tale you parodied very well. Keep writing.
Joan Campbell06/03/10
Congratulations on your EC Ann. This was extremely creative and very fun to read. My favourite line: "google it, lad" :-)
Mona Purvis06/03/10
Congrats, Ann. This is so fresh and on topic. Just great.

Rachel Phelps06/03/10
So glad to see this in the top list. Congratulations on the EC - and it's still my favorite story this week. :D
Eliza Evans 06/03/10
YOU are just absolutely TOO much, Ann. You can write anything!

Delicious fun! Awesome creativity.

LOVED IT. I'm going back for a second read.
Beth LaBuff 06/04/10
Ah... I LOVE this, and your allusion to Dicken's story! The spirit names were so perfect! Then your ending "God bless us" ... Congrats, Ann, on your Editor's Choice award! This is a favorite! :)
Charla Diehl 06/09/10
This fun and entertaining entry struck many a chord with me. I understood this story's Scrooge and the spirits filled me with inspiration. Great job.