Pinch, Nose, Topple, Tocsin (a signal, especially of alarm, sounded on a bell or bells), Contest, Forward, Crestfallen, Fence, Edge, Pile, Whistle, Lick
I had to pinch myself to test it wasn’t just a dream.
A contest of minds, I leapt forward into the battlefield. At the edge, an audience of my peers ready to search out my crestfallen face as I was defeated by a mightier enemy.
The Tocsin Bell rang in the high rafters. Surrounded by an electrical fence, nobody else could go near. It was the oldest relic from the days before the war. Before all men, and women were less than equal. Piercing the air, like a carving knife through a roast, a loud signal started the battle.
I stared at the pile before me, and found what I was looking for. A book, 756 pages long, with a heavy binding of leather, it was just what I needed. With a quick lick of my lips, I grabbed it first.
‘You will topple before me!’ My opponent roared, and chose his weapon of choice – a dictionary full of unimaginable words.
I let out a quiet whistle, and quelled the flames of fear. Out of my pocket, a pair of gold glasses, my ultimate weapon, and trusted friends. I adjusted them on my nose, and opened the first page. Its edge was smooth and ready for battle.
‘Contestant Mary, your first word please.’
‘Hyperventilate,’ I said, putting my word on the scrabble board.