Writer's Block

Creativity Games.net will produce between 1 and 8 random words for you. I tried to make each set into a narrative, until I hit my word count for the day.

Panther

Shopping

Rhythm

Artillery

Foundation

Dragon

Altar

Oven 

The panther slid sinuously through the air ducts of the shopping mall, its footfalls moving in rhythm with the artillery fire below. No one would hear it over that noise. Downstairs in the basement, a dragon waited, curled into a ball between the oven and the foundation. As soon as the people gave up their search for the both of them, their race to the altar would begin.  

The vibrations from the firing cannons shook them both, but they waited silently. 

Laser

Pocket

Laundry

Stain

Cane 

Eagle

Pancake

Trapeze

And here I am in the middle of the crowd with a laser in my pocket, ready to open fire. How the hell did it come to this? I eat breakfast like everyone else, I do my grocery shopping like everyone else, I do my laundry like everyone else. But I have this dark stain on my conscience. This hair shirt. This cane that constantly beats at my memory, punishing me. But here I am, and now I have to make my move. I am just one of the crowd, watching the show. The trapeze artists are performing their tumbling act, but when they leave, and the man with the Eagle takes the stage, I can finally take him out. Too bad it will leave the circus, and everything within a 1 mile radius, as flat as a pancake. 

Cellar 

Energy

Froth

Arm
Region

Tour

Ladder

Generator

She barely has the energy to move anymore. Trapped at the bottom of a ladder. What a stupid way to die, alone in the bottom of a cellar. She had heard once that the most beautiful phrase in the english language was, ‘Cellar Door’. What a load of bullshit. When you try to make either arm move, but they won’t, and the effort makes you froth at the mouth and you want to scream, but you’ll never be able to yell loud enough for anyone to hear, 'cellar door' is a cruel taunt that repeats itself in your head like a nursery rhyme. It’s not use. This is a deserted region. And outside, she can hear the generator dying. 

Observation

Carrot

Rebel

Orchestra

Perfume

Messenger

Kiss

Stamina

I’m a deck hand on the USS Observation, or so I have named it. I am also the captain, the first mate, and the cabin boy. I am the orchestra, the audience, the rebel, the opposition, and the government. I am both the carrot and the stick. I ride along the waves, smelling the sweet perfume of salt as the water lands on my brow, gentle as a kiss. I have no stamina anymore, to move. All the work of the ship remains undone, and I curse myself for my laziness. I shall  send the messenger to the captain right away, to inform him that I suspect the first mate is guilty of malingering.