The 777 Writing Challenge

Hi, everyone! Today I was sort-of tagged for the 777 challenge by Lynette Noni!

The 777 challenge requires you go to Page 7 of your work-in-progress, scroll down to Line 7 and share the next 7 lines in a blog post. Once you have done this, you can tag 7 other bloggers to do the same with their work-in-progress.

Since my two main stories that I’m working on are still in the plotting stages, I decided to share from the story I’m currently editing. This worked out perfectly to the first time we see the villain! And don’t worry, you’ll be hearing more about this story soon.

Marba wove her way down the hallway between the small groups of people. They didn’t pay any attention to her, and she repaid them with the same treatment. You could tell which trainees were new; they were the ones who stared at her in awe as she walked past. Most of the seasoned trainees, and those who had completed training, had grown used to her commanding stature.

β€œMarba,” an authoritative voice called from behind her. The very sound of that voice was enough to silence all of the conversation in the hallway.

What a perfect ending! πŸ˜€ Now for those people I tag…




Ashlee Willis


Robyn Hoode

And if you’re reading this, I tag YOU as my seventh person! πŸ˜€

What did you think of the excerpt? Are you going to do the challenge? Well, are you????

25 thoughts on “The 777 Writing Challenge

  1. BΓΉl, leader of the Buidenie, gazed out across the sandy dessert towards the Great Water sending a silent prayer to the strange Travelers. Kneeling in his priestly robes, he bent to the sand again and again. He asked them for advice on how to lead his people, on what should be done about the advancing monsoons. He asked for more of the magic medicines, the same medicines which healed his wife and son. With thankfulness, he finished his prayer and stood.
    Just as he turned to face the tents and rising homes of his people, a wall of sound and air hit him knocking him flat. Oh Holy Ones! He thought, then cursed himself for returning, even in thought, to the old way. Never, O Travelers, I never meant to blaspheme! Forgive… Dust and sand hung in the air, overhead a cloud of billowing fire, lightning, and death rained down the wrath of a vengeful god. The ground shook and split open. Please! O Holy Travelers! Please! If this is a test of my faith, I have failed you! Please, protect my clan, but take me!
    The moon was completely blocked out, no light except for lighting in the roiling clouds pierced the darkness of a god’s abandonment! Oh Gods! The terrified supplication screamed in his mind along with thoughts of running for cover. Take me! Take me, O Holy Ones!
    Confusion and panic ruled his mind now, not even forty years of leading a desert clan could overrule centuries of ancestral memory and tales of angry gods wiping clean the white sands and starting over.
    Around him the rock started falling and the ground rocked, at first it was just pebbles, but they soon grew to the size of camels. Sheer instinct took over, driving him to his tent, the one place his mind called shelter. Somewhere in his mind, something told him that if the gods were after him he was only putting his family in danger.
    Suddenly, as if the Travelers themselves had reached down and struck him with a bolt of lightning, a shower of sulfur and brimstone pulverized the cluster of tents and homes, and a huge crack opened up and swallowed their remains. Oh Holy Travelers! NO! Oh gods, no! Take me! Take me!


  2. Pingback: The 777 Challenge (or Wheelbarrows and Heroines) | of words & books

  3. Pingback: April 1st | Spiral-Bound

  4. I’m going to post my 7 lines here if that’s ok? If not I’m really sorry for posting here…
    This mob of homeless, dirty, heartbroken people are all running from the same thing. War. We are the ones who have been scarred and destroyed by this evil force. Many more have been hurt in this way, but they were too sacred to rebel against. We are running because we want to be free. Because we want to live a life free of fear. But we still worry that this dream may never come true. Many children are apart of this group. They are skinnier than the rest of us. They have no innocence left in their eyes, they have seen reality and it’s crushing their young, pure souls. Their spirits have been trampled on. My name is Poppy.

    That’s about seven. Hope it looks interesting! I have more on my page, I invite you to come check it out!

    Liked by 1 person

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