My heart bursts its banks, spilling beauty and goodness. I pour it out in a poem to the king, shaping the river into words. (Psalm 45:1)

Welcome to our new blog!

Note that this blog is primarily for members of CWOSA. Only those members who have signed up as authors to the blog are able to post on this site, although all may leave comments.

You may not pass on any posts from this blog without permission of the author, but you may pass on a link if you wish to share something written.

To join CWOSA, you are required to either be a Christian writer or aspiring writer who lives in Southern Africa, or a Southern African Christian writer living overseas. If you qualify and wish to learn more, click on this link.


1. Read the topmost post, then click on "comments".
2. Read the last comment to see the most recent addition to the story.
3. Copy/past the entire story to date into a new comment box.
4. Add a further three words.
5. Click on Comment as. If you are signed in, your name will appear. Click on Publish.
6. If you're not signed in, click the small dropdown arrow, and select Name/URL. Give us the name we know you as, and click on Publish.

Remember! This is meant to be a story!
Have fun!

Friday, 01 November 2013

TOTM November: We Are All Different: Let's Prove It!

Many new writers are reluctant to share their story ideas in case someone else will steal them and write them up themselves. Yet I'm sure you will agree that we're all different. Given the same situation, we would all write the story differently.

For this month, let's have some fun and prove our differences. I have selected ten words using a Random Word Generator . My challenge to you is to write a short short story using all of these words in any order.

  1. Trusting 
  2. Luggage 
  3. Rotten 
  4. Delirium 
  5. One way
  6. Tedious 
  7. Diploma 
  8. Refreshment
  9. Trudged
  10. Relentless
Paste your story in a comment below and let's see what develops over the month. 


  1. The most tedious thing about family occasions is the baggage everyone brings into them. Slipping into the hall (late) I looked about the gathered members of my honourable family and knew the night would end in a delirium of accusations.
    I had just espied the refreshment table when my cousin Clement seized me, and, with a relentless hold on my arm, bore me off to a corner of the room.
    “Most of it’s rotten anyway,” he told me. “And you’ll get caught up. The war still rages.”
    “What? Grandpapa won’t let Clarice do that diploma course?”
    “Diplomas are for lesser minds.” This was in the grand manner. “You’d think trusting us was beyond Grandpapa’s powers.”
    I trudged to a seat. The night was going to be worse than I’d expected. “Well, I’ve got a solution. Grab her luggage and leave.”
    Clement smiled. “That’s one way of doing it, of course.”

    1. Well done, Chiara. And you've made me want to know more. Is this perhaps a short story in the making?

  2. It was a long time since Joe had last seen a landmark in the sandy waste around him. He trudged on doggedly towards a horizon that shimmered in the heat. He had left his backpack some miles back – who needed luggage in this relentless wilderness? In any case his food had gone rotten. He longed for a gallon of icy water, but such refreshment was a dream – something that might come to him eventually in the delirium of dehydration. How trusting he had been of the guide’s directions – just keep to the trail and you can’t go wrong! Well, he had earned another diploma in the school of hard knocks – if he lived to benefit from it! The tedious hours passed slowly, and his sweat-clouded eyes didn’t spot the cleft that opened at his feet. As he fell, he knew there was only one way this would end.

    1. Fabulous Fi. Definitely a story I want to hear more of. How about it?

  3. Meredith watched the baggage carousel slide to a stop then trudged toward the help desk, trying not to break down into a puddle of tears in the middle of Rome’s airport. There was no sign of her purple polka-dotted hardback suitcase she’d got from her parents after receiving her diploma. The luggage—and the trip to Italy—had been their gift after months of relentless University assignments, projects, and exams.
    Instead, after ten tedious hours next to a seatmate who smelled like rotten eggs and appalling service, she felt as if she’d been sent on a one-way trip into delirium instead of a time of refreshment. So much for trusting the airlines with her valuables.
    He appeared out of nowhere. Tall, dark, and very Italian. “I noticed you looked. . .lost.”
    Meredith’s breath caught and a smile emerged. Maybe Italy wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

    1. Ooh yes, I like it. Will this appear in one of your books? Sounds like it should!

  4. It is a problem. Once you give an idea, people may not pay you for it. Some are honest. Some are not. I read where people used to pay people who gave them a good idea. It would be good if all felt that, "the workman is worthy of his hire."