Destruction Junket

Writing and Splicing Workshop

Friends!

For this meeting of the Junket, we’re going to jump into a writing session and share. This is one of my favorite group activities for creatives because even if we all start with the same prompt it’s a cool journey seeing where we each end up. Usually prompts are used to evoke a memory, an imagination, or a combination of both. This session will happen in 3 parts:

Part 1: Writing Twenty minutes evoked by a prompt given at the start of the session.

Part 2: Sharing One member will share their creation. At the end of their share, we will thank the writer via rubbing our hands together collectively giving the effect we have created a rainstorm in the living room. We will then discuss the creation. After that, we will move to the next writer. Rinse and repeat.

Part 3: Splicing Each of us will pass our creation to the person to our left. In a circle we will each choose one line from the work in front of us to make a macro-piece. The final piece will be added to the Destruction Junket Library. Looking forward to seeing you all there!

For this session’s prompt, all passages should begin with the following phrase, be inspired by it, contain it in some form, or please stand up, say “Damn these words!” and blow us away with your own blurb created your own way.

Inside the black and gold desk

Our Spliced Piece:

Inside the black and gold desk Your face keeps changing. Did you have a dream where a chicken was dying? At least it wasn’t a blood stain as in the newer models. The laughlike sounds and twitchy vibrations of her body made for quite an uncomfortable combination to be in proximity of. I had come with my father’s glasses and the last bottle of our honey.They asked me if I was ready for the cost, and I like a fool, lied through my teeth. It’s nerf or nothing. You know it’s dangerous to leave things unspoken. It’s getting into the hardwood. However for some reason, the emptiness before her was powerful enough to break her cool. I’ve been following the nerf circuit for the better part of a year, we had a big gathering at the convention center downtown and I stopped in for a cup of joe, when your face stopped this joe like a cup of stop sauce. You were falling in love with someone else in front of me. Biological intelligence was simply artificial intelligence. Perhaps it was the past few years that slowly chipped away at her, or maybe just the amount of time and effort that went into this particular success, but whatever the cause, she now stood unquestionably broken. I had thought myself interesting, but the thickness of this stack behind me proved otherwise and the dim glow behind the executor’s eyes suggested I would be an easy case to reconcile. Inside the black and gold desk was nothing at all. Once I was bald and pacified of my claws, they marked out the places they’d cut, and added ports to my veins. Their eyes met. The sky shook. The pies rotated gracefully in their case. So yes, it was the chicken that was strange. But for now those parts would have to wait, collect more dust and remain in the dark.