Friday, 14 January 2011

Throw ‘em all together and pick out what you want…



For this week’s writing exercise we were all given three slips of paper. We wrote a word on each piece, then placed them all in the middle of the table. We then picked out the words we liked the look of, and weaved a story using these words with fifteen-minutes on the clock.
 
I pulled out…
 
COCKROACH
 
FATE
 
FELT
 
Try this at your group- let us know how it goes! Here's my little vignette- I hope you like...
 

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Roger tied his scarf tight and turned up his collar, stepping from the pub into the dimly lit cobbled street. He wished he’d brought his hat. His scalp started to tingle in the frosty air. He stroked his hair- a subconscious gesture- only realising he was doing so when he felt the lump.
 
He gasped and threw his hand out. Something was still clinging to his fingers. The bug- large, with two antenna big enough to pick up FM signals- hissed like a snake.
 
“Jesus Christ!” he said, flicking his arm like it was on fire. The bug landed on the arched cobbles on the road, belly up.
 
“Hey,” said the bug.
 
Roger froze.
 
“Hey. Come on. I didn’t ask for that.”
 
“What. The. Fuck.”
 
“Come here.”
 
Silence.
 
“Yes, yes, I’m a talking cockroach. Get over it. Look,” said the bug, who was facing away from Roger. “My legs reached the ground before. Turn me the right side up.”
 
“Okay,” said Roger. “Who are you, like?”
 
“I am Frederick, your saviour cockroach. I’m here to give you an extra life.”
 
“No thanks,” said Roger. “I don’t believe that shit.”
 
“Seriously. Turn me over and I’ll explain.”
 
Roger stepped out into the road. Grimacing, he turned the roach over. At first he thought it was screaming. Then he realised that the sound was car tyres grinding over the road’s slick cobbles. The car slammed into the shop, bursting into flames, right where Roger had been stood seconds before.

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