Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Let the Randomness Begin!

stopwatch graphicProcrastination may be my super-power, but not when it comes to Friday Writing Sprints.

Another week has come to a close and whether you wrote a lot, a little, or none at all this week, a few minutes of Random Word Improv are a great way to have a little fun and get some words on the page

This week we’re changing things up a bit.  There is no theme, no random phrase, and no challenge word.  We’re going back to basics – just you and 16 random words.


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:

blindfold             aversion              morsel                  scenic

assault                 dancer                  devout                 tornado

pervert                 blizzard               glamorous          muscle

fingertip             limousine           prediction           extortion            

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.

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

  1. I’ve done a lot of reading this week, but no writing. I need to get back on track, and this is a great way to kick-start the process. Hmmm. Happy writing, all, and see you later!

    Edited to add: Must have been channeling Kay’s story when I wrote this. Got all the words, I think!

  2. Petal Dainty ripped open the envelope she’d found taped to the office door, read the message inside with resignation, and pushed it with the very end of one fingertip across the desk to her best friend and business partner.

    Tornado Hazard, six and a half feet of hard muscle and bad attitude, scanned it, grinned evilly, and cupped his bucket-sized hands, cradling an imaginary crystal ball. He stared intently down before making his prediction. “You are about to meet a small, dark stranger. He will cross your palm with silver, or at least make a hefty payment on account.”

    Petal was a foot shorter than Torn and a hundred pounds lighter, but when she was seriously pissed off, like now, she could fry him with a glance. “Not necessarily. Who says I have to take the job?”

    She could handle it blindfold, she just had an aversion to working for creeps.

    Tornado’s grin evaporated. “You own half this agency, hon. If you don’t want to work for him, tell him to get stuffed.”

    She wouldn’t, and they both knew it. They’d been doing too many freebies lately, and the gentle drift of unpaid bills had become a blizzard. It just would have been nice, for once, if she could have been offered some irresistible morsel of an assignment. Instead the universe continued its relentless assault on her moral compass.

    When some legendary dancer or glamorous starlet needed a scenic hunk of badassery to shepherd them from limousine to red carpet, Tornado got to break out his dark suit and wrap-around shades. Petal’s clients weren’t pretty, but there were an abundance of them, they had deep pockets, and Dainty Hazard wasn’t yet in a position to be picky. So if a not-as-devout-as-he-claimed faith healer or supposedly-reformed pervert needed inconspicuous protection, Petal scrubbed off her makeup, pulled her hair back into a pony tail, and did the necessary.

    “I’m in,” she said, reaching for the phone. “But I’m charging him double. Plus overtime. And danger money.”

    Torn exhaled in relief and slid the card back to her. “That’s my girl.”

    “And by the time I get back I expect the accounts up to date, the bills paid, the debts collected and the mice evicted from the hot water cupboard.”

    “Hey.” His brows joined together in a thick, dark line. “That’s extortion.”

    Petal shook her head. “That’s expiation.”

  3. Better late than never. Here is another installment of Nicolai and Cassie, courtesy of this week’s random words.


    “What’s with this town?” Nicolai asked as we sat in uncomfortable molded plastic chairs and waited for the doctor to give us an update on Penelope’s condition. “A murderer on the loose and killer bees? So much for the safety of suburbia.”

    I turned to look at him. “What’s with you? You’ve been babbling since we got here.”

    He looked away and didn’t answer so I turned back to my observation of the bustling emergency room. The doctors and nurses were moving around like a well-choreographed tornado, dealing with the aftermath of a limousine meets big-rig encounter. Penelope’s allergic reaction paled in comparison.

    Between the moans from the glamorous dancer with the dislocated leg to the blood pooling around the driver who looked to have a piece of windshield embedded in his head, the scene was an assault on the senses.

    I’d trained as an EMT before I joined the police academy, so it didn’t bother me in the least, but I belatedly remembered Nicolai’s response to blood when he had been harpooned at Barnacle Bob’s. That explained his current state and slight greenish look.

    I nudged him with a fingertip. “You don’t need to stay here, you know. I can handle this.”

    He shook his head and focused his attention on the family waiting at the admission’s desk on the other side of the room.

    I figured the least I could do was distract him a bit. It seemed only fair, since he’d been distracting me since we started this case.

    I turned in my chair to face him. His shirt was untucked from when he’d removed the wireless transmitter not long after we arrived and his sleeves were rolled up revealing tanned, muscled forearms. He couldn’t have been more attractive if he’d tried. I placed my hand on his arm and felt the strong steady beat of his pulse. I remembered how he had looked earlier without his shirt and wondered what it would feel like to be skin to skin with him right now.

    I felt like a bit of a pervert to be thinking about sex at a time like this, but if there was anything a hospital emergency room taught you it was that life can be unexpectedly short. Seize the day and all that.

    After a few moments he turned and looked at me. “What are you doing?”

    “Mentally undressing you.”

    His eyes widened briefly then flashed with heat, totally focused on me. “Not that I’m complaining, but why?”

    “I’m distracting you.” I interlaced my fingers with his and leaned closer. “Is it working?”

    “Oh I’d say it’s definitely working.” He smiled and slowly looked me up and down. Our surroundings faded away and I could feel the heat rising between us.

    It wasn’t about distraction any longer.

    At the sound of a throat clearing, I looked away from Nicolai to the doctor standing nearby who told us that they would be holding Penelope overnight for observation.

    “She’s showing some unusual symptoms so we want to do some additional testing once the reaction to the bee stings has died down a bit,” the doctor said before he left to take care of another patient.

    As Nicolai and I headed out to the parking lot he interlaced his hand with mine.

    It had been a long time since I’d felt the weight of a man’s hand in mine. It was kind of nice. We made the short walk to the car in silence. I wasn’t sure what was next, but I knew I wasn’t ready to let go of him just yet.

    “I believe there was some talk of a distraction,” Nicolai said as he brought my hand to his lips and planted a kiss in my palm.

    “It depends. How do you feel about blindfolds?”

  4. K’m late. Sorry! But here’s a little thing for Friday sprints (even though it’s Monday).

    The wind dancer was a glamorous little morsel, truly a scenic detour and a half. Her partner on the trapeze was a blindfolded hunk of muscle, who depended entirely on trust, timing and the long practice period to prevent the long fall to the fragile net below. Reynaldo shook his head; he didn’t have an aversion to heights, but the idea of falling scared him spitless. When the wind dancer came down, he’d assault her with a blizzard of white roses and whisk her off in his limousine. He looked at his watch. A red-lacquered fingertip caught his peripheral vision. Vanna!

    “Vanna, what are you doing here?”

    She pointed at the blind god above. “I’m here to pervert and corrupt that young man. And you? I suppose you are after that little she-tornado?”

    Vanna knew him too well. He devoutly hoped she didn’t ask for the money he owed her.

    “And Reynaldo, I believe you owe me something from our gambling spree last night.”

    He fumbled with his wallet. He barely remembered how much it had been, but he was sure he didn’t have enough cash to buy her off.

    Vanna tapped on his forearm. “Put that away, darling. I need your limousine.”

    “That’s extortion!” His debts were large, but that limousine was priceless.

    “Just for the week, my dear. Don’t look so down-fallen! I’ll bring it back to you.”

    Reynaldo didn’t know precisely what the future held, but he could safely make one prediction: if he didn’t give Vanna what she wanted, he’d pay the price ten times over before the week was out. He handed her the keys. He knew he had enough for a cab. Maybe the roses and his hotel suite would be enough to impress the little wind-dancer. If he didn’t get photographs of her, he’d be in a much worse situation with The Boss. He felt as if he were on a tightrope, barely able to keep his balance.

    • Love this Michaeline. You had me from the first sentence . Great descriptive phrasing. I hope we hear more of this.

      • (-: I love these sprints. They are so freeing. I really don’t know why my subconscious is going into Cadville these days. I just finished my cad-and-bounder story. I’m ready to do reformed rake now, but I guess the girls are still looking for bad boys.

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