Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #192

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. Run 
  2. Break
  3. Give
  4. Take
  5. Stand
  6. Leave
  7. Promise
  8. Fade
  9. Make
  10. Look

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.)

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

114 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #192”

  1. Anne Wayman says:

    Don’t run! Be careful; you’ll break it!
    How often have you been given advice you wisely didn’t take?
    Stand tall in who you are. Leave criticism behind and look to your own promise.
    Complaints will fade. You’ll make at least some happy.
    Look, it’s your life.
    another mini rant about how I’d run your life 😉

  2. Shane Arthur says:

    “Hey Billy! I can’t stand payin’ for them there haircuts. Take your bull clippers and give me a high-top-bumpkin fade. I wanna look like a cross ‘tween Kid from Kid N Play and Jason Aldean for da upcoming spring break — and leave my ear hairs alone so’s da gals have something to clean their tongues off with after they tongue my eardrums just how I likes it during da makeout sessions.”

    “Bobby, I promise. After I’s done with you, da gals is gonna be runnin’ over each other to be getting’ funky with them there ear drums of yours… Oh shoot! I hit something and nicked you! “Da blood is gushin! Oh, durn! What in tarnations is? Bobby… uhh… I found your missin’ runt toe. It was stuck to your skull wit a piece of chewin’ gum.”

  3. “Please take the stand.”

    Porter shuffled to the proffered chair.

    “Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

    Porter nodded.

    “Sir, the stenographer requires that you give your answer audibly.”

    “Yeah, I do.”

    “Please state your name and occupation for the record.”

    Porter complied, then sat down to perjure himself.


    “Has the jury reached a verdict?” Knowing full well that the bastards had acquitted Mad Max, Judge Silverstein barely maintained his poker face. Luckily, no one could see his lap, how tightly balled his fist was, clutching the fabric of his robe.

    “We have, your Honor.”

    “Will the defendant please rise and face the jury?”

    “What say you?” Before addressing the foreman, Silverstein noted the implacable look of Moreland County’s most ruthless villain. The imminent travesty was about to make OJ Simpson fade into history and give the talking heads weeks of sound bites. The soul-crushing weariness of orchestrating this farce had taken its toll.

    “On the charge of first-degree murder, we find the defendant …”


    Mad Max floated up and backwards into the gallery, propelled by a slug from the judge’s .45 caliber Smith & Wesson. The visitors directly behind him were treated to a shower of brain, bone and bloody gore. Everyone else reacted with varying degrees of shock, horror and incredulity. Then, mad pandemonium ensued, as employee and visitor alike made a run for the exit.

    Judge Silverstein spun around to aim at the jurors. “Y’all lucky I only got five bullets left or I’d shoot every one of you like the worthless dogs you are. You’re dismissed, please leave.”

    He turned to the bailiffs, none of whom had unholstered their weapons. “Go fetch that lying Porter. He is in contempt!”

    Finally, the senior bailiff recovered. “Isaac! Drop your weapon! Do it now!”

    “Oh shut up. Barney. You’d have done the same thing. These entire proceedings have been a joke! You said so yourself during the break!” Silverstein had tears running down his face.

    Barney remained in his stance. The obvious disconnect between the judge’s calm words and the explosive action was too much to process. Shooting him was out of the question and he didn’t seem to be agitated as much as distraught. Slowly, Barney holstered his weapon and went up to secure the smoking gun and to console his friend.

  4. KathleenL says:

    Shall I run?
    Break down the door?
    Give in?
    Take the bull by the horns?
    Stand strong?
    Leave without looking back?
    Be the only one who keeps promises?
    Fade into oblivion?
    Make a new start?
    Look for the easy way out?

    • Great poem about questions that we ask of our own character.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Kathleen: Filled to the brim with passion. Love it!

    • Done in order, too! Well done. (Ha-ha, get it?)
      Reminds me of Lebron James’ famous commercial.

    • Jeanette R. says:

      @Kathleen This is a departure for you.  But I like it.  So many questions, so few answers. It’s the riddle of life.

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        This could be the script for what keeps flashing through my mind at my job these days.  I don’t have the answers either!

        • KathleenL says:

          Jeannette – Thank you. A departure, yes, but as life is ever changing for me… all of us I guess, the words just fell into place there. But I am sure that Isabelle was saying these words too. And My E-man has already heard them from me in my silent moments.

          And Yes, In Order too. 🙂

          Frank — a script for many of us at different stages of the many parts of our lives. I don’t have the answers, but I know they are coming to me slowly, one by one as I allow the questions to bounce around in my mind, in my sleep. I will go where my new path leads me. Albeit on a set of wobbly legs akin to a new born colt, but the ground is steady, even if I am not. Bravery is not always evident, I.E. in big actions. Sometimes it does, indeed, take bravery to make the small decisions to do the bigger things that will improve our lives.  
          Remember — Failure… is merely fact and proof that you tried. Don’t be afraid of it. Embrace the adventures that lay ahead of you Frank. As I shall do the same.

          • Frank Ruiz says:

            Thanks for the amazing advice, Kathleen, and you’re right: whatever comes from failure will always be better than what comes from never having even tried!

    • margaret says:

      Great way to gather expressions which have become a part of our daily language, Kathleen! There are always dilemmas.

  5. Really dark one today, unfortunately inspired by a Foster the People song (Pumped Up Kicks) which I listened to accidentally and the theme of the song stuck in my head so I felt I wanted to get it out in a poem.

    Make Them Run
    He made a promise
    Their lives would fade
    Take the punishment
    He would give more
    Make them run in fear
    Just look for a gun or two
    wait until a school break
    just stand there and shoot
    then leave this world too

  6. margaret says:

    Give yourself a break and make time to have fun.
    Don’t let your life fade living on the run!
    Take life easy and leave your cares behind…
    I promise you that peace you’ll find.

    Time won’t stand still and your looks might fade,
    but you’ll still have the memories that you made.

  7. KathleenL says:

    Justin — Dark day for you, but go out in the running the words up the writing flag pole and as sad as it came across it came across with emence amounts of evokable emotions.

    Here’s to hoping for a brighter day.

  8. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … Billy and Bobby are something else. I loved the last line about the toe. I did not see that coming. I can see it now, MTV presents … “Billy and Bobby on Spring Break or Billy and Bobby Going Wild.” Lol!

  9. Rebecca says:

    @ Justin … That was dark, but I liked it. Great writing!

  10. Rebecca says:

    @ Mitch … Wow! I love courtroom dramas. I can’t wait to read more.

  11. Rebecca says:

    Look deep within and ask, “Am I happy or am I pretending?” It’s time to take a stand and leave the past in the past. Make each day count and give yourself a break because life doesn’t come with an instruction manual. Promise yourself that you won’t allow your life to fade away. You can run, but you can’t hide. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face your life lessons. You may as well learn what you have to learn in order to move forward.

  12. Rebecca says:

    @ Justin … Bummer on missing the backspace key.
    BTW: I’m feeling introspective. It must be the full moon. Lol!

    • KathleenL says:

      Rebecca — Great reminder in life’s path.
      I agree with the boys… and you … we need to love ourselves enough to be honest to the person in the mirror.

  13. Jeanette R. says:

    The hollowness magnified the aches and pains of the house.  The furniture and artwork had been removed weeks earlier in preparation for the move. The makeshift fan buzzed above the bed.  He lay squeezing his eyes shut, not allowing the sun to penetrate them. The calendar on his nightstand bore red writing on today’s date, the date he promised to leave.

    If he opened his eyes, he would be forced to start the day.  Instead, he grabbed the thin sheet he used to cover himself and brought it close to his nose to smell her. It was starting to fade but he could still make out the rose scented lotion she used each night.    

    Rolling on to his side, he let a tear run down his cheek.  He was surprised his body could still produce them. The muscles in his shoulders and lower back ached.  The breaks had never healed well.  The doctor who gave him a second opinion could barely look at his mangled legs.

    The sun filled the room with piercing light.  Today he would give the keys back to his mother-in-law and take whatever he had coming to him.

    • Jeanette, I dub thee Queen of the Show! This is outtastic! A whole range of emotions went through me as I read this. Of course, you leave us with our imaginations to fill in the rich flavors at which you hint. 😉

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        Jeanette, your one-page-to-grab-em challenge is always a smashing success with the pieces you bless us with!  This one definitely delivers!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Jeanette: Exactly what Mitch said, with a side order of awesomesauce.

  14. Rebecca says:

    @ Mitch … Lol! I know those movies. It’s the same way with a song. I try to remember a lyric and wait for the radio personality/DJ to repeat the artist’s name at the end, but they never do.

    BTW: I agree, there are too many pretenders. Life’s too short! My belief is … If someone is going to pretend, they may as well move to NY or L.A., pursue acting and get paid for pretending. 🙂

    • That’s a good one, Rebecca. If those don’t work, there’s always politics!

      • KathleenL says:

        Jeannette — Wow! Lots of emotion felt by this reader.
        “…Tears… He was surprised his body could still produce them.” Okay, I felt this one to the core and understood it completely too. What a great opening for a Love Story that would go back in time to remember it all… and the accident maybe being the ending… or a repeat of the first couple of paragraphs here!

  15. Frank Ruiz says:

    Her one look will make your promise fade
    What you couldn’t stand to leave, you’ll willingly give away
    You’d take whatever she’d offer, then beg her for more
    But her gift would break everything you’ve built
    No matter how hard you try to outrun the consequences

    • Whoa! Deepsville. I gotta read this again! Oh…a temptress. Gotcha.
      Dayum! I knew you had something here, Frank. I just was blown away by the lyrical quality.

      • KathleenL says:

        Frank — Gotta love a temptress… well, on the page at least LOL.

        I too read it as if there was music playing behind the words. Bravo!

    • Jeanette R. says:

      @Frank. The last line punches you in the gut.  Somethings are not worth the risk.  Good stuff.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Frank: This reminds me of the one you did about the corporate guy getting set up by the company to cheat. Nice.

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        Thanks for the comments, everyone!
        Thanks for the lyrical comments, Mitch and Kathleen.  Maybe I was inspired by “Pumped Up Kicks” too, like Justin!
        Jeannette and Shane: you’re right about some things not being worth it, and if the guy from my other story considered the consequences, he would have never gotten into that mess!

  16. KathleenL says:

    Second Submission — As you will see… I could not resist:

    Give thanks to the men and women who take a stand for us, residents for the good old US of A.
    All who look within and make the choice to run to fight for their fellow man, they do not fade from the promise of freedom. Instead they leave the comforts of their home to stand tall for you and me. Break down, today and every day and say thank you to those so deserving of our honor. Go ahead, because without their sacrifices you would not be free to say… “Thank you for your service.”

  17. Punkster says:

    It was a make or break situation. He had accepted his fault and there he was, right in front of her, weeping like a child. She has always given into situations and compromised. But when the love of her life admitted about his accidental betrayal, she wanted to leave everything away and run away to find a refuge for her broken heart because people who promise to stand by you can also leave your heart bleeding.

    She had taken a stand but her emotions were pulling her back, like nothing had happened. She was reminded of those countless promises which now seemed so meaningless.

    The packing was done; the suit case was ready and she prepared to leave, trying to ignore his heavy sobs. He repeatedly apologized as she tried to push away those memories from her state of mind, memories which never fade with time. She opened the door, banging it right behind her and began looking for a taxi.

    He was helplessly sitting inside, on the couch, crying out loud. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. He opened the door and she was there, with her suitcase, looking at him with her teary eyes.

    She extended her arms and he hugged her. They both stood there in the moonlit night, crying their hearts out, in each other’s arms, like two lost lovers.

    Soon, two glasses of wines were poured and one could spot a silhouette from their window, depicting two figures indulged in a passionate waltz.

    = = = =

    …Because love is worth every chance you give it.

  18. […]       var eav_t = "HGJ"; var eav_s = 1; var eav_is_ssl = ("https:" == document.location.protocol); var eav_asset_host = eav_is_ssl ? "https://badge.empireavenue.com/" : "http://badge.empireavenue.com/"; document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + eav_asset_host + "blog/?t=" + eav_t + "&s=" + eav_s + "&l=" + escape(window.location) + "' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E")); 11 Nov Class Reunion Holly Jahangiri This flash fiction story was inspired by Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #192 […]

  19. “Hey, look—isn’t that Alexandra?” whispered James.
    “Oh, give me a break,” I muttered. “’Most beautiful girl in school?’” I could hardly bear to glance in the direction James was pointing, but the woman sitting alone at the table near us didn’t look familiar to me. She didn’t bear the tiniest resemblance to the beauty queen we girls all loved to hate. I always suspected the janitors hated her, too, after four years of scrubbing the boys’ tongue tracks off the floor where she walked. Alexandra had stolen my boyfriend, Jerry, back in 11th grade, without even meaning to. She had trampled his heart and left him pathetic in my eyes. He had tried to worm his way back into my heart, but I wanted a man with character. I wanted a man Alexandra couldn’t coil around her little finger like a bit of florist’s wire.
    “Take a look, Liz. I’m pretty sure that’s her.” His fixation was beginning to annoy me. Some scars never fade; I felt an irrational, panicky urge to beg James to promise never to leave me for the evil vixen. What was I? Sixteen? I looked. My breath caught in my throat as our eyes met. Hers, that deep and unmistakable violet – like Liz Taylor’s eyes. Yes, I thought, incomprehensibly. It was Alexandra.
    “Hey, guys!” A familiar voice startled me out of the jumbled horror of my thoughts.
    “Jerry?” The years had treated him kindly. He stood tall, in a well tailored suit, and appeared to have grown a spine. His smile was radiant. “How are you? Are you here with your wife? Why don’t you join us?” There was plenty of room at our table. James wouldn’t be threatened if I sat next to my once and former high school sweetheart; surely, twenty years of rock solid marriage give a man a sense of security. Then again – I suddenly remembered the little panic attack I’d had, not ten minutes ago. I looked over at Jerry, but he was already nodding and gesturing at two empty seats. He smiled at my uncertainty and gave me a boyish wink that melted my heart.
    “That’s very kind of you both – let me go get her.” James made his way over to the nearly empty table where Alexandra sat…alone. She looked up, and I struggled not to cry or throw up. I managed a tight little smile and a nod. It became easier as she made her way slowly, painstakingly, to our table, gingerly stabilizing her steps with a walker. My brain began to absorb this new reality, to decode the startlingly incongruous image of the woman who once had men panting after her like dogs in heat.
    “Please, sit down,” said James, jumping up to give Alexandra the closest seat – the one right next to mine. He held the chair while her husband – Jerry – eased her into it.
    “Can I get you anything before I go make us a plate, Sweetheart?” he asked.
    Alexandra shook her head and smiled; at least, I assumed the slight uplift at the right corner of her mouth was what passed for a smile, these days. Her violet eyes, trained on his, sparkled with devotion. “Thank you,” she whispered. Jerry went off to the buffet to fill a couple of plates. Alexandra turned to me with sober eyes. “Hello, Liz. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
    “Yes,” I said, subdued. How do you ask an old rival “What the hell happened to your face?”

    “I suppose you heard…” she said. It was more of a statement than a question.
    “No, I—“
    “Oh, dear – you hid the shock so well I thought you must know. But that’s right – you left halfway through senior year, didn’t you? Moved to California, some place out west, right?”
    I nodded. I couldn’t think of one damned thing to say, so I was relieved when Alexandra continued talking.
    “It’s all right, Liz, I know how I look. I’ve looked this way for twenty years, now.”
    “What happened?” asked James.
    “It was prom night. Jerry’d had a bit too much to drink—I didn’t think he ought to be driving himself home. So I drove.”
    “You went to the prom with Jerry?” I blurted.
    “No, I went with one of the football players. Evan or Cody or—what’s his name? That quarterback who thought he was God’s gift to women and the NFL?”
    “Right! Lars. I can’t even remember, now. Doesn’t matter much. After a while, they all started to look and sound alike, you know? But the whole school expected me to date one of them. Anyway, there I was by the punch bowl when your guy stumbled up to it and started crying.”
    “What do you mean, my guy?”
    “Oh, Larry was mad for you, didn’t you realize it?”
    “Larry dumped me for you, Alex. Are you trying to hurt me?”
    “Oh, God, no – Liz, no! Not at all. I’m sorry – I just…” she looked helplessly over at James. “No, Liz. But Jerry was smitten. He couldn’t let go. And you’d left—he grabbed a couple of cups of spiked punch and started asking me for romantic advice.” She did that quirky little thing with her mouth, and I cringed. “He’d had too much to drink, so I told him to give me his keys, let me drive him home.”
    I sensed disaster, but I couldn’t connect the dots. Alex had been the sober one.
    “I drove too fast. I wasn’t used to his little sports car. I didn’t know how to drive a stick. More to the point, I didn’t know how to take it out of gear—took The Curve too fast—“
    “Oh, Alex…”
    “Jerry hopped out, he was fine, but my seatbelt got stuck. It was just rotten luck – gas all over the place, a spark – there was nothing anyone could do. Jerry grabbed a piece of the fender and sawed at the seatbelt while I burned—oh, his poor hands, Liz! He refused to give up and run away, though. Jerry’s the most…loyal man I know.” Alexandra sensed him standing behind her and her face – that ruined mess of sinewy scars, pale and taut and shiny after two painful decades – lit up with joy.
    As he reached over her shoulder to put a plate of hors d’oeuvres in front of her, I saw his mangled hands – the webbing between his burned and scarred fingers. I remembered how he’d once talked about becoming a surgeon, and I felt a tear slip down my cheek. Jerry had become something far more important than a surgeon – he’d become a life-saver, a good husband, and a man.
    I reached out for James. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me, and I was filled with gratitude.

    If you enjoyed this, please sign up for my mailing list at http://eepurl.com/gUl45. All signups before 11:59 PM on 11/11 help to ensure my survival in the Surviving the Blog Contest!

  20. John F. Moynihan says:

    A solitary figure moved rhythmically along a marked path. Only when he reached the path’s end did he break stride, take a half-step and reverse course. Had he been guarding another post, he may have let his mind wander. He might plan his next Leave, or decide where he’d take is morning run. But this was non ordinary post, and he was no ordinary sentry. He focused only on his promise to guard with vigilance, the remains of the three soldiers laid to rest on this sacred hill.
    Their names are not known. Years ago they had left their homes to fight in battles they never could have imagined. One, perhaps, had crawled from a muddy trench during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, only to look down the barrel of a rifle and know that his time had come to an end. Another may have stormed the beach at Iwo Jima, or parachuted into enemy fire at the Battle of the Bulge. The last could have fallen making a stand at Inchon. All that is really known, is that they had given all they had to give in defense of freedom.
    Long into the night, the sentry would make his solemn march. His presence assuring that, although the three remain anonymous, the memory of their sacrifice would not fade.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @John: Excellent 1st submission there. Welcome to the CCC. Love your style. I know the others will too.
      Hope to see you each Monday and Thursday.

      What did you think of the challenge?
      I’ll add your name to the CCC Community Links page. Let me know if you have a website.

      P.S. You are our 300th contributor. Yeah!!!!

      • John F. Moynihan says:

        I followed a link from another writing blog.  This is just what I had been looking for.  I’m always writing something in my head, but can’t convert it to anything substantial on paper.  This was a very helpful exercise.  Thanks.

  21. Nimue says:

    He was used to run from love and the person of attention since he could never make space for anyone except himself in his life. Given the conviction it needs to stand in front of some one and make promises that are supposed to last.
    She never expected him to stay but neither to leave like this – without reason or time. she had hoped the pain will fade with passing time,she and her life will take turns looking at the positive side of the break up.
    They were both right and as much wrong. Their rigidity with the ideologies kept them apart forever but never out of each other’s hearts.
    It was not a happy end as you can imagine, and that specially made them proud of themselves.

    like seasons around you,
    let your mind differ from heart’s words
    rest your obsessions

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Nimue: Welcome to the CCC. Ohhh, I like your style! I can tell the others will like you here too.

      What did you think of the challenge? (and how’s you hear of the CCC?)

      I’ll add your name and url to the CCC community Links page now.

  22. […] @ Creative Copy challenge  and Haiku […]

  23. Rebecca says:

    @ Kathleen … Thanks … It takes a lot of courage to face ourselves in the mirror. It’s not easy, but we’ll live.
    @ Jeanette … Thanks … I’ve been getting in touch with my ‘inner’ life coach. Lol!

  24. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … I forget about Tim’s song. Life’s too short to be down in the dumps. My hope is that more and more people will realize this and begin to pull themselves up and out.
    BTW: “Billy and Bobby Meet Beavis and Butthead” would work for MTV. Go ahead and pitch it. 🙂

  25. Prince Merluza says:

    Look, friend, she’s gone. Get over it.

    No! We make promise!

    *crash* (that’s the third bottle.)

    Oh god listen to yourself. Alright come on stand up. Come, I’ll take you home.

    Give me break man. Ugh, (blaarghhh)

    There there. Keep yourself together, you’re puking all over the streets.

    Suddenly a light fades in from the sky.


    Huh? Hey! What are you running away from? Hey-

    Don’t leave me my love!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Prince: Haha. That was good stuff there. I like how you held back enough to make me fill in the cracks of what’s going on here. Like your style.
      Everyone welcome Prince to the fun. What did you think of the challenge?

  26. Prince Merluza says:

    Thanks. 🙂 I think I need practice on dialogue writing so that’s what I’ll be writing mostly.
    This site is just perfect on forcing someone to write something. 🙂

    • Cathy Miller says:

      Sorry I’m late-I’m in San Diego for the 3-Day Walk this weekend. My apologies if I miss anyone.

      @John @Nimue @Prince – Welcome to CCC!

      Whenever you have the urge to run away and hide or you simply need a break, drop on by CCC and give us your best shot and take away our thanks.

      We stand together against the challenge of words that leave us with a promise that will not fade as we make a masterpiece with more than one look.

      Welcome to the magic.


  27. sh13151223 says:

    Run Peter run, you are not destined to ruin your life here, yes it is over, the break came from their side.They gave you everything you cherished and it is their turn to take back everything. All those sweet memories came to a stand still, you must leave, leave for the good. The little girl’s friendship was a promise, promise of security. The effect of ‘chicken run’ faded away, the chicken corner ads are the trend, run Peter run for life. They will make it in minutes, a look at the grill will sent thousands of volts through the nerves, run Peter run, run for your life.

  28. Kelly says:


    NB: The funny thing about this is, I wrote it back in November. Then had computer problems (problems with the site? I never knew why) and couldn’t submit it here. It’s mainly fiction—but boy, the unbalanced-life part is true… or it wouldn’t have taken me this long to get back ’round to submitting it!   🙂   I miss y’all.


    I guess I’m on the run.

    Not a confession, exactly. More of a self-analysis. A good hard look in the mirror—the kind we’d all rather not do.

    Promises I make to myself on January 1st, or any other date that seems ripe for a do-over, have inevitably faded by January 9th (or any other date that seems ripe for a fall from grace).

    I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it, if you know what I mean. (Stole that line from Walt Disney’s Alice, btw. I’m not that clever. Hm. More self-analysis…)

    I’ve gotten into a rut (ironic, while being on the run?). It always goes the same way. I take a stand:

    This year
    I will work harder
    toward my
    in this, this, and this way.
    balanced life, so I can stick with it,

    You know the drill.

    I break with it almost instantly. Make exceptions. Don the mantle of overly well-considered rationales. No one ever blames me, but me. Me, I loathe every misstep. Other folks (the fools!) see the efforts I made; I see the ones I should have, but didn’t.

    Success, that great motivator, has always fled from me like I carry the plague, and that is the excuse I hold deepest within me. That because I fail, I give up trying. But when I leave the self-pity behind—or am I really wallowing in it up to the neck?—I realize that all the wilted failures I see strewn behind me can only mean one thing—I am the one who is running, ever running, away.

    Is the rut that of hating myself? Not yet sure. But the run, ah yes—though I want to, I don’t really believe in cursed lives (check with me tomorrow, maybe I’ll reverse that).

    So if I’m not cursed, then I must certainly be the most active ingredient in this crooked mess of a life.

    I must certainly be on the run from success.

    Aughh! I’m exhausted from this self-examination. Time for a Snickers bar, a glass of cheap wine, and a nap.

    I’ll figure it out later.


    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Kelly: Missed you too. No more vacations! 🙂

      • Kelly says:

        Shane—Totally weird. A couple of days when the CCC site *refused* to work for me, grr-rr-rrr, so I set a couple of stories on my hard drive to figure it out when I had time, then a few days when I just *had* to do something else, and then “suddenly” you’ve lost your favorite habit and don’t know where the weeks went!!!
        I need my CCC fix to kick my creativity in the pants. Don’t know how I survived this long without it but I can tell you I was hurtin’ for awesomesauce.   😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.