Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Now with Random Rules!

stopwatch graphicMade it through another week? Congratulations! That calls for a Friday Writing Sprints style celebration.

With the holiday season in full swing (how and whatever you choose to celebrate), and the weather taking a definite turn for the dark and stormy (at least it is here), some Random Word Improv is a sure way to flex our creativity and recharge a little.

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 dark and wintery theme to them, despite my best efforts to pull together a “lighter” list.

In an effort to reduce the tales of destruction and mayhem that previous lists have triggered, our new rule for this week is: No dead bodies (unless you are building on a previous story, where the damage has already been done 🙂 ).

For any of you new to Random Word Improv, here are the rest of the rules:

  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:

Stormy                 brandy                   leftovers             wrapping

Secrecy                 snowbank           portrait              berserk

baby                      corruption          adorable            menace

freak                     contest                   sled                       beast

voice                     lubricant              drunken            caterpillar

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.

20 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Now with Random Rules!

  1. Good idea about the new rule (Penny excepted, obvs 🙂 ). With choices like menace, berserk, beast and corruption it would be all too easy to take another trip to the dark side. Hm. Cogitating.

    See you later!

    • Technically there has one been one mentioned dead body and that was the first go. 😀 It is a pretty fun set of words though…. Someone’s random generator has a gift.

  2. As if on cue, Bartleby’s CFO, Mr. Compton suddenly went berserk and headed towards me, brandishing his iPhone 8 with some menace (yeah, I know, but they are available to someone of Bartleby’s, and his corporate officers’ standing). It was adorable how Compton trod through the evidentiary leftovers, completely surrounding him, with all of the grace of a brandy-soaked, drunken beast. His iPhoned hand was shaking furiously, the portrait of a passionate freak-out, until he fell. Compton slipped in some blood and hydraulic fluid, wrapping himself in it like lubricant, and sliding towards me like a sled heading inevitably into a snowbank at the end of road. Since corruption of the crime scene was a done deal at this point, I deftly side-stepped him and snatched the offending tech from his hand, as he crashed into the helicopter’s skids.

    Compton’s phone had exceptional reception. I heard the voice clearly, before he’d even reached me. There was to be no mystery, secrecy, or contest about it. The Wizard just took credit for the downed helicopter and the late Mr. Bartleby, on all major networks at once. There would be no putting the genie back in the bottle. The upside was, now we wouldn’t have to waste time proving it was him. The downside was, now time had become our enemy. The Wizard just set the terror clock. There could be no baby steps. The longer the clock ran, the more terror would be generated. If it reached a tipping point, there would be nothing but terror, and The Wizard would win, as the world spun out of control.

  3. Got ’em all 🙂 . Posting this before I read the next instalment of Bartleby.

    ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and the drunken freak of a bent bean-counter proved surprisingly resistant. We’d thrown everything we had at him and we were no closer to wrapping the case up. The way things were going, we’d be celebrating the holidays with cold coffee and leftovers. Again.

    The Commander closed the file with a snap. His eyes scanned the room and we held our breath as he said the words we’d been waiting for. “Get me Brandy and Babycham.”

    The entire staff watched through the two-way mirror as Bow Street’s finest showed us how it was done.

    Brandy was six feet something of black curly hair, leather micro-dress, fishnet stockings and Caterpillar workboots. Her eyes, the gray of the Arctic Ocean on a stormy day, followed a suspect around the interview room like a latter-day Mona Lisa. Add in a voice that was equal parts gravel and menace, and you got a combination powerful enough to drive any man berserk.

    “Looks like Santa crashed his sled into a snowbank,” she growled. “I don’t think he’ll be visiting you this year, Arnold.”

    Arnold’s lip trembled for a moment, and then stilled.

    “Don’t be such a beast, Brandy.” Babycham’s portrait of reference was Marilyn: blonde, breathy, big-eyed and given to wearing floaty white chiffon, she was simply adorable. “I’m sure none of this was Arnold’s idea.”

    “It wasn’t corruption, not really,” he whined. “Not exactly a bribe. More of a lubricant.”

    “Tell it to the judge,” Brandy snarled.

    “We’ll get you a secrecy screen,” Babycham soothed, “And afterwards somewhere safe to live where he’ll never find you.”

    It was no contest.

    Arnold folded like wet cardboard, and we all made it home in time for dinner.

  4. stormy

    Brandy checked her bag one more time. It had been quite a long time since she’d gotten her freak on, and she had no intention of getting her baby all worked up only to discover that she’d left the lubricant on the nightstand. She thought about the last time they’d been able to get away, and how the stormy night outside had seemed to reflect their slightly drunken, nearly berserk fervor in bed. Bed? Hah! What about when they’d decided that a sled propped up against a snowbank was the perfect place for a little impromptu unwrapping?

    Sure, the need for secrecy was more than a bit of a pain. A prime minister’s life wasn’t his own, as David had explained in that warm-honey-on-crumpets voice that Brandy was certain had done as much to cinch the hotly contested election as his anti-corruption campaign.

  5. Aw, Elizabeth, what’s a Christmas story without a dead body or two? Dickens would twitch! LOL, but I think I can follow the rules for one week.

    “Janey wrapped the leftovers as her daughter, Sue, continued to torture the baby. ‘What to Expect’ they called it — the poor thing was howling from exhaustion and the heat of that bunny snowsuit they were forcing her into. When Sue was a baby, Janey used to slip a tablespoon or two of brandy into the bottle, and the drive home was peaceful and bright. Janey got that trick from Grandma Josie. Sometimes, the old ways were the best.

    “She handed the pack of food to Sue.

    “‘Thanks, Ma. Where’s the ice pack I brought?’

    “Janey pulled the floppy thing off the counter and handed it to Sue.

    “‘Ma! I know I put it in the freezer.’

    “‘I had to take it out for your uncle Fred’s ice cream. There wasn’t any room.’

    “Sue sighed. ‘OK.’ She threw the leftovers and the lukewarm ice pack in the cooler. Bobby said something to her in an urgent undertone, and she replied in a low voice — a low voice, but not low enough for Janey to hear, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll toss it when we get home.’

    “Wasting good food. Kids these days didn’t understand the value of anything.”

    NB: Don’t give babies alcohol, and follow reasonable food hygiene guidelines! Janey is a character with a huge arc ahead of her. Maybe she’ll be visited by the three fairies of Evolution, Climate Change and The Folly of Racial and Religious Profiling.

    • Nice job, Micki – totally nailed the challenges of the multi-generational family Christmas. Gotta say, though, you saved the best for the footnote. Love the Three Fairies 🙂

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

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