Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

Another week, another Friday.  It feels like the week passed more quickly than usual, possibly because my work week didn’t actually start until Tuesday.  I had a very productive day-off on Monday, so I’m thinking I should do that more often.  Not a lot of writing done, but you should see my wonderfully organized new crafting area and substantially cleaner garage.   I may not have finished a story, but I at least finished something from my To Do list.

I’m considering that a win.

Now that there’s a place for (almost) everything and (almost) everything’s in its place, it’s time to pull out the writing journal and get some new words on the page.

Care to join me?

Hopefully you have had a little time for yourself and your writing this week too, whether it’s a few stolen moments or a luxurious block of time.

For those of you working away on a story (whether a first draft or a polished version on its way to publication), we’d love to hear a bit – whether it’s a scene, a paragraph, or even a phrase that you are especially pleased with.

If you don’t have a story in progress, or just want to work on something new, feel free to give our weekly writing prompt a try.   This week we’ve got a starting sentence and some random words to work with.

Ready?

Here is today’s writing prompt:

Write a story that includes:  a man selling bananas who can predict the future”

And includes any (or all) of the following random words:

freewill               nectar                   episode          vulture

gimmick             seducer                bazooka         emergency

flag                       bloodstain          bear                 cannon

puppet                 history                daisies             chant

Whether you’re sharing a bit of your current work or writing something fresh based on the writing prompt, we hope you’ll join us for today’s Story Time.

Happy writing to all!

2 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

  1. No time to put the words in, but I couldn’t resist the premise!

    Ralph, the old Filipino produce man, had a backroom that was reserved for the “special” customers. He waved Daisy in, and she went, nervous and cold in the chilled room. Surrounded by artichokes and grapes and brussel sprouts, she felt like she was in a dark, Flemish painting. “Girl with Still Life.” But still, people raved about Uncle Ralph; he was the best at what he did, even though it broke with all traditions.

    “Now, where’s that banana you selected?”

    Daisy held forth the fruit. It was a nice banana — not too large and not too small, with the beginnings of a brown dappling that meant it would soon be on sale — but also meant it would be absolutely delicious.

    “Ah, yes. You’ve chosen well. This banana represents you. Now, hold your question in your mind — no, don’t tell me. Just think it. Next, we will look at the banana entrails.”

    Uncle Ralph took the stem firmly, and in one smooth motion, peeled a section off the banana. He carefully inspected it. “Your past. It looks good and healthy. Very wholesome, Daisy. You’ve been a good girl.”

    Then he took the next section between his thumb and forefinger, and peeled away the next part, revealing a brown streak near the blossom end of the banana. Daisy gasped. This couldn’t be good.

    “No, no, Daisy, don’t worry. Something is bad, and because it is at the blossom end, it’s your love life. You must cut that part out, and your life will be whole and fine again.”

    Tears sprang to her eyes. She knew it. She knew she’d have to give up Jim, that gaslighting beautiful bastard. She just had avoided it, because . . . well, giving up people was hard, and Jim could be so sweet . . . . But brown and bruised.

    “The last strip is your future. Let’s see what it holds in store for you.” Daisy shivered in the dark storeroom.

    But amazingly, as Uncle Ralph slowly brought down the last strip, stars seemed to shoot from the dark void between banana and strip. The flesh was not just smooth and firm, it was golden and shining. From stem to blossom, it sparkled in the dark, sending out streaks of light.

    There were tears on Uncle Ralph’s cheeks. “Oh, Daisy. You are the one. The store will be yours, and you will be the one to carry on my secrets. The banana has spoken.”

    And Daisy knew that it was true. She slowly ate that banana, and the secrets, unformed and still in their beginnings, began to plant themselves in her guts and her brain.

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