Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

It’s time to wrap up another week as well as another month.  I thought that whizzing sound I heard was a train rushing by but apparently it was actually just the passage of time.

This has been a (welcome) relatively quiet work at week which meant there was time to take care of all the little tasks that tend to get pushed aside in the rush toward deadlines.  My email box has been reduced to a minimum, unnecessary outdated files purged from my computer, and my teacup can no longer be considered a toxic hazard.  Progress!

On the home-front, this week has included taking care of a cat with a mysterious malady that laid him quite low.  With the inborn skill of all animals, he managed to disappear just before his appointment with the veterinarian, but he was finally located and locked in the house.  We still have no idea what happened to leave him looking like he was at death’s door, but after 5 days of sleeping almost continuously in his nest of blankets, he finally woke up this morning eating, drinking, and no longer staggering around like a decrepit drunken old man.  Now he’s just cranky that I won’t let him go roaming about outside.

Anyway, now that I’m no longer playing kitty-nursemaid, it’s time to do a little writing.  Playing with the writing prompts on the last few Fridays has been such fun that I think I’ll start my writing session with today’s story prompt.  It may not help with my current work-in-progress, but at least I’ll have the satisfaction of getting words on the page.

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 month our story prompts are inspired by the Amazing Story Generator©.


Here we go:

“After receiving a life-changing prophecy, a temperamental sculptor must decide between love and money.”

Feel free to include any (or all) of the following random words:

backward       dove                   rival                public

friend             clairvoyant        heartbeat        excuse

buried             knuckle             cyclops            naked

authentic       horoscope         dusk                crushing

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!

5 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Story Time and Sprints

  1. I’m really enjoying these, Elizabeth! And I’m glad your cat is feeling better.

    The Sculptor’s Choice

    “That dove is going to poop on your statue.” No clairvoyant, my friend Bexley was merely observing the antics of the avian population. One of the flighty corps had landed on the granite shoulder of my naked cyclops, chiseled, if I do say so, with elegant yet fierce lines, which graced the public square.

    “This your life-changing prophecy? That is the worst excuse of a prediction I’ve ever heard!”

    “Take it as you will,” Bexley said.

    I fumed a bit. In a space of time that seemed merely a heartbeat ago, Madame Beverly had offered me a choice. I could become the artist I had always dreamed of becoming. She would grant me the exclusive rights to display my work throughout the region. I would receive every commission. I would crush my artistic rivals. I would be rich.

    Or I could marry my one true love. Who was not Madame Beverly.

    I was ambitious, and I’d thought I could find a way around the difficulty. Without a backward glance, I’d buried my feelings and chosen fame and fortune over love.

    And now my sweet Katherine, deciding that my feelings were not authentic after all, was marrying the man who’d read her horoscope. She was lost to me, leaving my soul vacant.

    As dusk descended over the plaza, I gazed at my cyclops, perhaps the best thing I’d ever done. It was true, the sculpture would suffer many such indignities if it remained in the plaza. The acids from animal depredations—as well as the weather—would diminish its beauty.

    On the other hand, Katherine would not retain her dewy looks forever, either.

    And at least I was rich.

    “You’re right,” I told Bexley. I chased off the offending bird, scraping my knuckle against the granite as I did so. “The hell with love. Let’s get a beer.”

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