Child Prodigy | ||
---|---|---|
no. | Solve | Word Riddles |
1 | Alarm Clock | With both of my hands upon any set number; my clamoring bells bring an end to your slumber |
2 | A Telescope | For the seeing of sights further into the distance, I'm what ot extend if your eyes need assistance |
3 | A book, Volume A-G | I'm the first of four volumes, and most likely host, of articles detailing angles through ghosts |
4 | A Diary | I'm a record of thoughts and events through the ages; a new day begins with each turn of my pages |
5 | A Broken Window | Shattered to shards. I must quickly be mended, or else I may leak when good weather has ended |
6 | An Empty mouse trap | If I were I reloaded with a cheesy scrap, I'd lure in the rodent and kill with a snap |
7 | A Broom | The floors are renewed when I'am pushed side to side; with a spell cast updon me, I'm a witch's weird ride |
8 | A Set of hatched marks | I'm a crude sort of calendar etched by a knife, where someone marked one dozen days of his life |
9 | A Heart on the mirror | I'm the beat within chests and a sign of affection; I dwell amidst beautiful faces' reflections |
10 | A Vase with a floral design | I'm where cut flowers' stems may upon water sip; were I dropped, all the flowers upon me may chip |
11 | An Arrow quiver | I'm an arsenal strapped to the bow hunter's back, keeping arrows in reach when he's set to attack |
12 | A Bird's nest | We're the triplicate children of a bluebird or crow, basking in the heat of a fire below |
13 | A Set of candles | Set into gold, we're three towers of light, growing shorter with every hour we burn bright |
14 | A Book of music | I ensure that pianists perform at their best, for I detail which key is the next to be pressed |
15 | A Green pig statue | I ought have been pink, unless I'm mistaken, for it seems mighty odd to encounter green bacon |
16 | A Can of a green paint | With a canvas and brush, I'm what all artists use; my color's a mixture of two other hues |
17 | An Hourglass | I'm a clock with no gears, telling time not be hand; I simply mark hours with gravity and sand |
18 | A Rocking horse | Ridden by childern, I tip forward and back, galloping to the end of an imagined track |
19 | A Miniature Piano | To a baby Beethoven, I'm an in item most vital, for I'm what's to be played at his tiny recital |
20 | An Ice Skate | When the temperature drops and the groun's full of flakes, I'm the footwear for speeding across frozen lakes |
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14 Oct 2008
Attic: Stage 2
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