Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

A week ago, the sun was shining, spring had sprung, and I was getting my sprinkler system ready to go back into action.  Today, however, it looks like winter is not completely done with us just yet.  It’s been intermittently overcast and rainy most of the day and I’ve been quite glad I didn’t pack away the cozy blankets just yet.  Even the cat hasn’t wanted to go outside and has instead been curled up asleep on the couch for much of the day.

Since it looks like I won’t be working out in the yard on my day off tomorrow, I guess I better find something to do inside instead.  Fortunately I’ve got three stories just waiting for me to buckle down and get some words on the page, not to mention a set of random words to play with.  Writing will definitely be on my Friday agenda.

Care to join me?

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 and would like to share.

If you don’t have a story in progress, or just want to work on something new, maybe today’s writing prompt will catch your creative fancy.   This week we’ve got a situation and some random words to work with.

Ready?

Here is today’s writing prompt:

Write a story with the theme:  interviewing for a job

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

clairvoyant         charisma            horrific                 bent

french                  thief                      disfigured           clever

elite                       delicate               pragmatic            bloodlust

dismal                  naïve                    companion         robot

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!

3 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

  1. Okay, I’ve got one!

    The Interview

    The boss scared even me. He had bloodlust in his eyes.

    He was the leader of an elite faction. I’d tried for months to get onto his crew, and when I got the call to meet him, I thought my ship had come in. But I was navigating deeper waters than I cared to sail.

    Well, nobody’s clairvoyant.

    I glanced at the guy’s dismal companion. He must have been a lot more clever than he looked, because outwardly he was exhibiting all the intelligence of a loaf of French bread. He was big, though, and the line of his coat was disfigured by a telltale bulge near his arm.

    If it came to force, I could take one, but not both. The trick would be to back away. Delicately. With my head still attached to my neck, if at all possible. I might be naïve, but I was nothing if not pragmatic.

    “Now that I hear the plan, I can see you need someone with more charisma,” I said to the boss. “Nobody’s gonna let me get close to those jewels, the way I look.” I waved vaguely at my face, at the horrific scar that still bisected my right eyebrow, took a left turn below my eye, and bent below my ear to head down my neck. The docs had tried some kind of robot surgery to patch me up. I guess I could have looked worse. I was never going to win no beauty contests, that was certain.

    “I got all the charisma you’ll ever need,” the companion said, pulling out his gun. In a swift move, he smashed the blunt end down on the boss’s head. The guy crumpled to the floor. The number-two guy—I guess the number-one guy now—trussed him up tighter than a twenty-pound turkey headed for an eighteen-pound oven and then waved the business end of the shooter in my direction.

    “Let’s go,” he said. Outside in the alley, he reached into his pocket. I flinched, but he pulled out a pack of Marlboros and held them out to me. I declined. Guy can die from those things.

    When he’d lit up and put the pack back in his pocket, he took out a wallet, flashed me a badge. Guy was a cop, fourteenth precinct, it said.

    “You tried to back off,” he said. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”

    I nodded my thanks and we headed down the alley as sirens wailed in the distance. The cop shook his head.

    “Thieves,” he said with a snort. “Can’t interview worth shit.”

    • What fun, Kay. You’ve got some great turn of phrase there. I especially liked “trussed him up tighter than a twenty-pound turkey headed for an eighteen-pound oven.”

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