Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Let the Randomness Begin!

stopwatch graphicIf you took Jilly’s advice on Sunday to switch off you probably aren’t seeing this, but if you’re here, another week has come to a close and it’s time for Friday Writing Sprints.

For those of you NaNo warriors who survived the month of November with your will to write intact – yay! For the rest of us, how about a round of Random Word Improv to flex our creativity and recharge from the hustle and bustle of December?

If you want to get in the improv mood, check out some of our previous efforts here, here, and here. This week our random words have a distinct wintery theme to them, though that doesn’t need to rule out the tales of destruction and mayhem that previous lists have triggered.

For any of you new to Random Word Improv, here’s how we play:

  1. Pick as many words from the list as you want
  2. Write the first line(s) of a story incorporating your words
  3. Post your results in the comments section.

Here’s today’s list of random words from a randomly selected random word generator:

snowflake           fire                         hallucination                     lemon

debauchery        frozen                   creature                               cabin

gloves                   wizard                  blissfully                             rabbit

wolves                 rum                        disgusting                           downhill

frigid                     claw                       vibrator                                marshmallow

Okay. Are you ready? Go!

*whistling aimlessly while you are off being creative*

Ah, you’re back. Kind of fun, right? Can’t wait to see what you have come up with. .

Happy writing to all.

13 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Let the Randomness Begin!

  1. I think I got ’em all. It’s another violent Friday, though – I blame the Evil Word Generator 🙂

    ***

    Downhill and downwind, Dustin the Disgusting, renegade wizard, drew off his gloves and raised his hands to the fire, blissfully unaware of Timur and his Wolves watching from the shadow of the cabin.

    Who knew what debauchery the twisted creature had in mind? His toys dangled like Christmas ornaments from the snowflake-sprinkled fir tree – whips, chains, handcuffs, even a vibrator with rabbit ears.

    “I’ll spear him like a marshmallow,” Timur growled, extending one shining claw in an approximation of a toasting fork.

    In the clearing Dustin leered down at the frigid ground where Belinda, the pack’s best tracker, lay trussed like a frozen turkey. “A sprinkle of salt, a squeeze of lemon, and you’ll be ready.”

    Belinda opened her eyes wide, trying to look scared and helpless, but it didn’t come naturally. “I don’t think so.” In a blur of motion she rolled over and back-heeled Dustin’s cauldron of rum punch with her bound feet, arcing the contents into the heart of the fire. “Take it away, Tim.”

    Flames leapt high into the night sky. Dustin was already caramelizing nicely as Timur sprang, part sabre-toothed hallucination, part razor-clawed nightmare, to finish the job.

  2. I’ve decided to continue with Timothy James Bartleby’s very bad day…

    Too bad this was San Francisco. Despite the somewhat frigid, for us, morning weather, we could really use some frozen salvation. With this kind of graphic collection, a few snowflakes wouldn’t make near the mess to the crime scene that the heat and wet would, as the temperature and humidity climbed. As the day progressed the smell and the muck would increase to a level that the word “disgusting” wouldn’t be able to cover. All in all, between the body goo, heli-fuel, char from the explosion, and the hydrangeas nearby, my uphill battle with a dinner clawing its way up, was about to launch a new creature ready to race downhill with the rest of the debris.

    I would say, “Never indulge in a large meal, before heading to a fresh crime scene.” but we all know that food and sexy time are when you are most likely to get an inconvenient call. And if you can’t have a little debauchery in your life because of the job, well, it might not be for you. The job, not the debauchery.

    I pulled on some booties and gloves to keep myself free of the multi-billionaire and his strewn accessories, as well as to maintain the crime scene). As I approached the remains of the helicopter, I noticed how far from a standard vibrator it was (“vibrator” being a small single-bench, bubble-type helicopter for 1-3 people that you can really feel). This thing was more of an executive airbus, built by Bentley. This baby sported a full cabin, complete with leather recliners, personal TVs and stereos, with built-in laptop and tablet docking support. Drink holders? Think personal fridge with personalized accouterments- rum-filled chocolates, wine, coke, sushi, and Magnum caramel ice cream bars – covered.

    How could I tell even before I got there? The fire had been in the top, rear, rotor area, with sparks, flames, and gas expanding forward, mushrooming through the cabin and popping the doors open and the windows loose. All of the air and stuff-ing oozed out like an exploded flame-toasted marshmallow. In the aftermath of the explosion, the entire cabin had squeezed down and ballooned out a bit in the middle, which is how the then sagging top blades were able to relieve Mr. Bartleby of his head…and shoulders, and chest.

    So, unless I was having a really bad melted plastics hallucination (cue the pink rabbits chasing the lavender foxes though an English flower-garden maze) not only was this “not” an accident, it was excessive, meant to surprise, sicken, shock, and make big, showy headlines. This was definitely an act of terror and unfortunately for me, reeked of The Wizard, aka Scotty Copperfield Houdini, arms dealer, terror for higher go-to-guy, and major pain in my personal ass.

    • Love it! And the intriguing appearance of The Wizard gives me hope that we have further episodes of TJB’s sad story to look forward to.

  3. Little Peter Rabbit sat shivering in his warren, thinking about life. “Every creature is born in blood and pain”, he muttered into the darkness, “and it’s all downhill from there”. His breath made tiny, adorable puffs of steam in the frigid air. (He just knew they would have been adorable to anyone who wasn’t (as Peter was) wondering whether his furry nadgers were frozen to ground, and he cursed the unseen (and, in fact, non-existent) observer.) They were as adorable as each precious snowflake that fell on the marshmallow world right outside his warren, empty now save for Peter. While he was in a cursing mood he spared a few moments of vitriol for the wizard whose spell had gone so badly awry, and threw in some black thoughts about the bottle of rum (Had it been drugged? Peter suspected so.) that had made following the wizard seem like such a good idea.

    At this point, he suspected that his best hope was to be… well, you couldn’t really call it “reincarnated”, when it was only your hide that was coming back as anything. Let’s say “usefully repurposed” as a pair of warm gloves for some fine lady. Certainly if the wolves outside his home had any say in the matter there wouldn’t be anything left of him but the one disgusting bit that even the housecats spit back up, typically on their owner’s doorsteps.

    Work calls me back, but that’s… Creature, frozen, gloves, wizard, rabbit, wolves, rum, disgusting, downhill, frigid, and marshmallow.

  4. Pingback: Nancy: Short Fiction Round-Up, and a Story! | Eight Ladies Writing

  5. LOL, these are great! I feel like it’s a little too late to join in, and yes . . . Jilly’s call to action has left me with very little internet time this week. Maybe I’ll be more organized by Friday. (-: I got here today, after all!

  6. Pingback: Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Now with Random Rules! | Eight Ladies Writing

  7. Pingback: Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Now with a Bonus Word! | Eight Ladies Writing

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