Creative Copy Challenge #79

BET YOU CAN’T do this writing prompt. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying all of them together! And remember: after (if) you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words. (If you’ve missed previous writing prompts, we BET YOU CAN’T do those, either.)

  1. Wash
  2. Sticky
  3. Soft
  4. Instead
  5. Tube
  6. Castle
  7. Bundle
  8. Stone
  9. Challenge
  10. Notice

NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks. (And don’t forget to tweet this and share it with your friends.)

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Resources you should check out:
Thesis: Best Damn Theme on the Web
Collective Ink Well: Personalize Your Thesis Theme
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there

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49 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge #79”

  1. Shane Arthur says:

    I’m on vacation folks. I’ll do this challenge tomorrow or Wednesday. See you then.

  2. margaret says:

    Mondays are such a drag, make me feel just like a hag.
    It’s a challenge to get moving , but it really is behooving.
    My dishes in the sink have sticky crap starting to stink,
    and the laundry’s in a bundle ‘neath my ten kids’ sleeping trundle.
    When I notice all the mess, I fall into deep distress
    and I really shouldn’t moan, but chores are like passing a stone.
    So I’ll scrub and wash and clean , even though it makes me mean.
    And tonight instead of work and chores
     and unpleasantness that bores
    I’ll grab my pillow, soft, turn on the tube and carefree waft
    to a land without a hassle, while happily watching Castle.

    (Note….I really don’t have ten kids 🙂  )

  3. Kool Aid says:


    I’m finally back after a couple of weeks!  This is a continuation from a few challenges back – somewhere around 68, I think?
     
    Tom Johnson, Stacy’s husband, worked in a cubical for a big insurance company. It wasn’t his castle in the sky, but it paid the bills. On the day of the event, he was working on a bundle of papers that had just been handed him regarding a 3 car pile-up at a neighborhood light. It looked like something right off You Tube he thought to himself. Then the lights flickered and the computer screen went dead. Murmurs of surprise and anger washed over the room like a wave as everyone responded to the power outage. Strangely, though, the fluorescent bulbs still seemed to glow softly, giving off an eerie light instead of their normal seizure-inducing flicker.
     
    Moments later, a crash was heard and felt just outside the windows, rattling them enough to crack. Everyone rushed over to see what caused it. Tom was among the first to open the blinds and his heart dropped into his stomach like a stone at the view below. Sticky sweat broke out over his skin and it became a challenge just to remain standing. A plane had crashed two buildings over and the heat from the fireball was felt across the window panes.
     
    Everyone stared in shock and no one noticed that not a single cell phone was ringing.

  4. A. Hamilton says:

    For five days I’ve been without internet and TV
    Comcast Cable has posted this message on all my monitors
    “One moment please
    Your service has been temporarily interrupted
    It should be restored momentarily.”

    This is to Comcast;

    The provider for my tube is Castle Cable
    I called the number that’s on their label

    My deal is for TV/internet, sold as a bundle,
    When both go dead, my life starts to crumble

    I try to give them urgent notice for repair
    Instead, I press numbers, ‘cause no human is there

    Then things get sticky when numbers fail
    I seem to get nowhere, pressing to no avail

    I don’t speak softly to those numbers I press
    My blood starts to boil, I get stupid with stress

    So I’ll  hang up for now, wash my hands of the mess
    Go lay down and cool off  I guess

    But I’ll try again tomorrow, ring all their phones
    And if a human answers I’ll bust his stones

    Cause if the CC Challenge I should miss
    I’ll cancel Castle Cable and my butt they can kiss

  5. Shane Arthur says:

    A bundle of grief-stones washes over me again. The castle I’ve built around my emotions challenges it’s entry.

    It’s a sticky draw at present but her soft, broken voice hammers from an endless, reverberating tube, “I think there may be something wrong with our daughter, too.”

    Instead of arguing, I sat silent.

    I didn’t argue.

    How could I? I noticed, too.

    I want to be wrong.

  6. Stacia Ho says:

    On rebuilding his-story:

    Standing tall with his head raised up high
    He took his CHALLENGE
    to WASH away the tears of his heart
    and redeem himself INSTEAD
    after series of STICKY nightmares from the past
    He went deepest down to the dirty underground
    founding BUNDLEs and bundles of newfound bricks and mortars
    into the hollow TUBE inside
    and that now is filled with
    His wisdom resembles
    the grandeurs of some old gemSTONEs
    lying together, getting older
    yet precious as ever
    Like a stroke of calligraphy, gracefully
    brushed on the SOFT white sands
    surrounding his territory
    where he stands
    every one takes NOTICE of his might

    Take heed; I am holding him very close to my heart,
    and that man is my CASTLE.

  7. Karetha says:

    I wrote this on a whim, combining two writing tools.  I happened to be surfing the net and I found this site:  http://www.distractionbeast.com/brainstormer.swf.  I hit the random button, and the combination of words it gave me was: ‘conviction, collapsed, fire station’.  So I thought to myself, I’ll combine this with a CCC and see where it takes me!  So here’s my (rather lame) attempt!

    Peter unloaded his wash from the basket and dumped it into the machine.  He fished in his pocket for quarters, grimacing at the sticky candy wrapper in one pocket.  He discovered a random pair of soft female undergarments in the other pocket.  Debating whether or not to wash them, he stuffed them back into his pocket instead.  Suddenly, Peter heard a noise emanating from the ancient tube television in the corner.  A ghostly image appeared, motioning for Peter to come closer. 

    “Peter?  Is that you?  Come quickly, the fire station has collapsed!”  The image’s voice was full of conviction.

    Peter wasted no time in responding.  Appearing to abandon his laundry endeavors, he rushed out of the Castle Laund-O-Matic, raced around the corner of the building, and vanished.  Passers-by gawked as Superman suddenly flew past them, a speedy blur of motion.  (If they could have done a “slow-motion” view, they might have noticed that he had a bundle of clothing clutched under one arm.) 

    When Superman appeared on the scene of the collapse, he immediately realized that a fireman was trapped between one of the fallen beams and the stone wall.  He raced over, lifted the beam, and tossed it aside like a toothpick.  Feats of strength were no challenge for Superman.  Soon the fire station was clear of victims.  Superman looked around and noticed the bundle of clothes lying on the ground.  He picked them up and flew off to finish his laundry duties.  After all,  superheroes need clean clothes too!

  8. Cathy Miller says:

    Death & the Detective Series
    =====================
    The killer began to wash the sticky traces of blood from his hands. Staring at the imagined stain, he washed again and again, uttering a soft admonition, “Wash your hands, William. You are such a dirty, little boy.”

    When his hands began to bleed, he reached for a tube of ointment. Instead of remorse, he felt calm, as he slowly traced the river’s path of blood. He closed his eyes to escape to his castle of peace, where his bundle of conflict unraveled in the order of the truly mad.

    He would not be ignored. Stone by stone, he would build his monument of glory. Body by body, he would get closer to his final reward. He would challenge fate and win.

    Notice me now, Dr. Sweeney?”

  9. Kelly says:

    MARSHMALLOW NIGHTS

    Sticky. Soft. Charred—blistered, really; black at the edges, fading to caramel’s brown.

    The challenge, of course, is to lean in from the stone you’re sitting on, let your tongue catch the magical threads of sugar dripping beneath the marshmallow, and then bundle the entire thing into your mouth while it’s still hot enough to make you regret it.

    (Almost.)

    Summer’s given notice. A new season muscles its way in, puts its frosty touch on the tired maple trees that guard our evening castle by the pond, and no matter how long we brave the chill, we can’t seem to stay long enough around our makeshift fire.

    A forgotten inner tube drifts among the autumn reeds, awash in firelight as it tries to catch a bit of our murmured conversation. We’re not tempted to jump in and save it.

    Instead, we stand. Stretch like contented kittens.

    And race our way back up the hill, daring time to run as fast as we.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Kelly: I do believe this is your best submission ever. Super cadence. Effortless flow. Great visuals.
      You’re almost caught up. I know you can do it. Hopefully you will be caught up before Thursday. Jon Morrow is picking the words.

      • Kelly says:

        Shane–Aw, shucks. I’m blushing.

        Glad you like. These little challenges do so much for my heart, I’m happy I’m giving back to you.

        😀

  10. Avenged In Blood, Part 36
     
    I got out of the dirty red cab in front of my house, warily looking over my shoulder for a tail. Muellers goons didn’t challenge me on the way out but that didn’t mean there would be no one waiting when I got home. There didn’t seem to be.
    I went up to the front door, still wary of someone jumping me in my own castle. I think I was being paranoid but if people were gunning for me, I wasn’t going to wait until I noticed the red dot on my chest to do something about it.
    As soon as I opened the door and stepped inside I could only feel emptiness. It was the feeling I had developed as a cop when visiting houses. Some just feel empty. This one was. I knew that I would not be here much longer, I would need to move around to stay alive. I tried not to think about it as I went into my study and retrieved the bundle behind the couch.
    It was my body armor, stolen from the police force, my shotgun and pistol case. I took these up the stairs an laid them on my bed as I went to take a shower. There was something sticky on the back of my head that I needed to wash off.
    I emerged from the shower, cleaner but not feeling good about it. Instead, I only felt a combination of sadness that I had to move and paranoia that there was a contract on my head. I unrolled my bundle and looked at the contents, relishing memories that came with them. I had almost forgotten about the perforated tube that was my silencer.
    I opened the stone colored pistol case and withdrew my trusted .45. I missed a breath in memory as the magazine slid home with a soft click.

  11. Kathleen says:

    The pink-ish grey hews of the large building blocks lead Alorianna to guess that the castle walls were made of sandstone. As she road along the trail, letting her horse navigate the ruts, she could not help but notice that, from this distance, they looked as though they years of exposure to Mother Nature’s furry had washed them clean of all debris.
     
    How could something so sturdy look so rugged and soft at the same time? This though challenged her logic although she knew that if she were able to allow her fingers to trail across their surface of the walls she would find them anything but supple.
     
    The sky’s fiery ball began to draw near to that mountain tops in the distance.
     
    “Time to find a place for the night Gunny,” she said to her ebony haired steed as she glanced about looking for a tree with generous boughs that could provide them shelter.
     
    It did not take her long. Many aged pines lined the roadside for her to choose from. With graceful pine chosen… one close enough to the creed that she could watch her horse as he drank, should he choose, unattened she shifted in the saddle, putting more weight in her right cheek, as she did her left calf laid softly against his ribs. He responded by stepping out of the rut, making his way in Southwest of the trail. She reached down picking up the ¾ inch strips of leather that lay loose around that saddle horn. He eased to a stop before she dismounted.
     
    “This looks like as good a place as any son,” she said stroking her hand along his neck. He leaned into her hand a bit.
     
    She let the reins drape loosely on this neck as she uncinched the saddle and removed it and the saddle pad from his back. She placed it pommel and horn end down so it could air out. She placed the saddle pad over a nearby log. He stood patiently.
     
    “Time for a drink, don’t you think?” she rhetorically commented to her horse as she came up to his head momentarily placing her hand under his chin.
     
    He moved in step with her, lightly rubbing his face on her arm as they walked to the water’s edge. She halted. He stepped into the clear water slowly lowering his head until his muzzle was in the water. She caught the reigns as they slid down his neck, brining the right rein under his neck… keeping them up out of the water as he refreshed himself. She crouched, reached out her free hand cupping it below the water’s surface. She brought her hand up to her lips, drank the cool water; repeating this until she was no longer thirsty.
     
    She stayed crouched until Gunny brought his mouth up out of the water. He was finished slurping up water. She stood to her full height of five-foot-eight before they silently turned and strode back to where they had left their saddle.
     
    Alorieanna hesitated momentarily unsnapping the reins from his bridle before he reached down to grab a mouthful of grass. She set her sights on finding nearby twigs and dry broken branches for their fire. It did not take long. She returned with an armful of burnables, setting them down without much fanfare.
     
    “Okay bud, this will keep the chill away for a bit, don’t you think?” Gunny raised his head slightly in response. She walked to where the saddle waited, untied her bedroll and saddlebags. “Kind of looks like we are not the first to think this is a good spot to stop, huh!” she said looking at the haphazard ring of rocks as she set the saddle bags over the two-foot deep log. She set the bedroom on it as well before she dug in her pants pocket for her lighter.
     
    It did not take long for her to stack the wood and get a fire burning. As the kindling began to ignite the thicker wood she corralled the rocks setting them in a protective circle. Then she turned back to her leather bags extracting a pre-portioned set of cheese and crackers, before sitting on the ground with her back up against the log. She unfolded the wrapper setting the package on the ground beside her.
     
    “It’s time to take a break from these old things,” she said as she pulled off her buckaroos, setting them on the other side of the log… where they could air out on their own. The cool air felt good on her sock covered feet. She let out a cleansing breath, causing the horse to lift his head again. “I’m okay Lovie, just eat up.” And satisfied with his human’s tone of voice he did, in fact, return to grazing; moving to another patch of grass that suited him, all awhile staying close to her.
     
    The bundle of crackers and cheese satisfied her hunger instead of leaving her wanting more. She slowly rose to her feet heading toward the water again. “Want some more water bud?” she said putting a hand under his jaw. She tugged lightly and he followed her back to the water. He stood guard looking up the tube-like clearing that followed the creek’s meandering as she washed her sticky hands and got another drink.  
     
    When they got back to the fire side she snapped one of the reigns back onto his bridle putting the end of it in her teeth as she rolled out her bedding. She carefully laid across the reign, like the Bedouin tribesmen do with their prized mounts. Her lids began to become heavy. She reached up, stroked her steed on the jibba and groggily said, “Night son.”
     
    He stepped closer to her nuzzled her hair. Within an hour he gracefully dropped to his knees and slept with his muzzle inches from her hair.  
     
     

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Kathleen: I made me believe that you are a horse person in real life. Is this so? Well done.

      • Kathleen says:

        Shane — thanks. Yes, my first degree is in Equine Science. I was blessed to use my Horse Husbandry knowledge to get a degree as well and then use that knowledge in the horse showing, breeding, training, care, custody and control.  They were  a large part of my life for… hummm 30 years.

        And thanks on the writing note… I see mistakes, but it shall get better.


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