Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #194

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. Put 
  2. Point
  3. Bizarre
  4. Weave
  5. Spiral
  6. Weird
  7. Goofy
  8. Pop
  9. Cult
  10. Fan

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


81 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #194”

  1. Frank Ruiz says:

    The tapestry of life weaves its strands in the most bizarre directions, and along we’re dragged down every new road.  Life becomes a series of goofy episodes, but the weirdest sort involves situations where some folks just inherently think they’re better than others.  Those who deem themselves superior see no issue with putting-down the peers around them, but the damage and ill-will they so easily dole out festers in the minds of those they’ve oppressed, until things spiral to open aggression from both parties.  Once the powder-keg explodes, the flames fan out and extended skirmishes pop off, making the tension in the air drift further and further, infecting the surrounding populace like ideas in a cult.  My point?  “If you don’t start nothing, won’t be nothing.”

    • Go, Frank, Go Frank! Get it on the Floor!
      You are ripping these challenges to shreds, my man! I LOVED this!!!
      Don’t start nuttin’ won’t be nuttin’.

      • Jen says:

        I was going to say something all smart and whatever, but now, thanks to @Mitch, all I can think about is Michael Jackson. Well, that and the infectious nature of cultish ideals. Nice one, Frank.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Frank: Yeah, you’re nailin’ these lately! Bring the heat! Write on indeed.

    • margaret says:

      So true, Frank! We just have to be ourselves, live and let live and refuse to be dragged into drama.

    • Anne Wayman says:

      chuckling Frank, with pleasure.

    • Jeanette R. says:

      @Frank.  This is my second favorite saying “Don’t start nothing, won’t be nothing.” Right behind “You can’t touch this.” 😉

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        Thanks for the great comments, everyone!

        @Mitch: Yeah, you always hear about the high-browed mantra wisdom, but there’s just as much wisdom in the everyday-speak mantras too!

        @Jen: I could probably be cult material with the way some ideas take over my mind!

        @Shane: Thanks, and hopefully no one will be starting nothing about Bobby’s weave either!

        @Margaret: Dragged into drama is exactly how it feels when I get caught up in it!

        @Anne: Glad the ending could give you a laugh 🙂

        @Jeanette: Taking second place to “You can’t touch this” is a fine location for “Won’t start none, won’t be none!” 🙂

        Thanks again, everyone!

    • Dee says:

      boy this hits home right now. Beginning tomorrow I am off work for a week and I have noticed all the the last week tension was in the air. It’s good that we will all be apart for a bit. A few words would blow up into an argument. phew.

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        Congratulations on getting a week off!  It’s to your credit that they’ll never know your week off was for their benefit too, as sometimes people don’t know how close they are to having us check them when they push us too far!

  2. Falling Back In Time

    Jamie wound up in the hospital. Her pop was more angry than scared.

    He’d found her unconscious this morning.

    She had cracked her fool head on the nightstand.

    She completed a perfect spiral, but failed to notice that her foot was at the edge.

    She arched her spine impossibly backwards, spread her arms and began to spin around in an imitation of her ceiling fan.

    She stood on her bed, bouncing lightly, reenacting the exhilarating dance routine.

    She woke with a goofy smile on her face.

    In her dream, she was able to weave herself through the air, gracefully executing the most difficult maneuvers.

    She was performing for the cult of the tree fairies.

    Jamie had a weird dream – she was a ballerina who disobeyed gravity.

    Not to put too fine a point on it, the bizarre accident could hardly be stranger than fiction.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Mitch: How in hell did you think of this? Which word prompted this? Super cool.

      • Bizarre. I associate that word with accidents. Weird. I associate that with dreams. Immediately, I wanted to mesh a dream event with reality.
        Of course, Seinfeld was the inspiration for doing it in reverse 🙂

    • Anne Wayman says:

      Do you have kids or something Mitch? I can almost see mine when they were little doing exactly this. Glad they didn’t.

      • Anne, 7 kids and one granddaughter. Plus a really big kid who comes out to play everyday 🙂
        That’s the one who used to have sword fights with his cousin, using whiffle ball bats. Now that I think of it, the cousin did fall off the bed! Nothing serious, though. There was more danger that we would snap the slats (remember those?)

    • Jeanette R. says:

      @Mitch. How many of us have NOT danced for the tree fairies?  You almost used a word per sentence.  Awesome opossum.

    • Jen says:

      This is fantastic. I love the tree fairies and her angry pop. I have seen the eyes of that angry pop. They are scary. Good job.

      • Thanks, Jen. Been bouncing offa beds, ‘ave ye? 🙂

        • Frank Ruiz says:

          Mitch, you let me both into your story character’s world, and into their dream world, and it was a true story too!  You give triple-value!  Wonderful stuff!

          • Thanks, Frank. This was not real. In response to Shane, I was saying I wanted to mesh the character’s dream and wakened states. If you’re referring to the final sentence, sorry if I mislead you 🙂

          • Frank Ruiz says:

            Wait, are you saying I’m only getting double value instead of triple value? 🙂
            Hey, you didn’t mislead, I just misinterpreted!  Thanks for clarifying things for me!

    • Dee says:

      buwahaha I have twin nieces, one of which tried to fly holding ON to the ceiling fan in her bedroom – top bunk bed her departure point, wood floor the landing strip (unsheduled landing without appropriate safety gear) and of course the result a trip to the emergency room and a cast for six months…This cracked me up – I could see it in my mind.
      (Now get to work on that nano novel!)

      • Ouch! I can’t imagine that a fan blade would support the weight of a niece.
        An upside-down merry go-round, turns a smile into a frown…
        I had a break-through with the novel. Whether I meet the artificial constraints of NaNo no longer bothers me, as I’m now just writing as the story unfolds :).
        Thanks for the encouragement, though! I may update my word count a bit later

        • Dee says:

          I think that is what it is all about anyway, Mitch – finding a break through or whatever your need is – the stream of conciousness thing helps me think out loud.I have changed pov, rewritten scenes, completely changed the plot. I have been all over the place but it feels like I am finally on to something that feels right 🙂 Didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. I am not sure I will make my word count either but the plan from the beginning was to have a workable start and I feel like I have already won because I have that 🙂

          • Hey, Dee, no sarcasm was detected. I am happy to have discovered that a prompt crutch is not the only way for me to limp along. LOL – I was actually worried that I wouldn’t know where to begin.
            What I wound up doing is a sort of weird matrix – inspired by J.K. Rowling’s famous story-boarding of all seven novels.
            I now have 16 “parts” to fill in. Not only that, I can plot a course through the matrix to create any of four endings. I hope it works out!
            Like you, I feel I have won – that was the sentiment of my last comment.

  3. Shane Arthur says:

    “Hey Billy. Any more of my fans call me since I left? And how’s my weave lookin’ from da back. Any hairs out of place? I’s got an image to put forth.”

    “Well, I’ll be an uncle’s monkey’s idiom. Dis pop-idolatry for you is downright bizarre, weird, goofy…and it’s spiriling out of control and goin’ to your noggin. Ever since your runt-toe and chewin’ gum hairstyle swept da nation, being your roommate has been like livin’ in a cult. Case in point—10 sexy gals done thrown themselves at you just today askin’ to have your chillins. And two more tried to climb through da windows to get a peek at you.”

    “Ain’t it somethin’, Billy! Dat one gal with da Duke Daisy shorts was a 10, even with a minus-eight face. We’s gettin’ a limo and goin’ cow tippin’ after Calculus class.”

    • Seems the little squirt has gotten himself a lot of attention. LOL
      What’s up with Billy, though? A bit dusty?
      By the way, Larry David would say that Bobby was a man of integrity…until Bobby makes the mistake of not letting “Daisy” hold his popcorn.

    • Jen says:

      Cow tipping? My kind of date. But I thought I was being unique using weave for hairstyle. Dadgumit all!

    • Dee says:

      Is cow tippin a euphemism for something they plan for daisy dukes and her friends??  lol Hope they do their calculus homework…

  4. margaret says:

    Some might point and think I’m weird,
    but of this I’m not afeared.
    Some think I’m plain bizarre
    because I’m different than they are.

    But they can think I’m somewhat goofy
    because I refuse to be aloofy
    and talk to strangers that I meet
    while walking down the street.

    I’ve never been a fan of the boring, straitlaced man
    who lives life by ironclad rules, because to follow is for fools.
    I weave my life with pop culture texture…and from critics don’t need a lecture
    of how I will begin to spiral into madness’s arrival!

    I’m happy and feeling fine and really quite divine
    and those who think I’m out of line…. put it where the sun don’t shine!

  5. Anne Wayman says:

    had to come without the newsletter today… you’ve gotten important.

    I’ve always been a Goofy fan. His moves are so weird as he weaves a spiral spell. Some say he’s Bizarre and that he’s part of pop cults. I say well put! That’s the point!

  6. I put the barrel in my mouth. The cold hard metal cylinder clanks against my front teeth causing spirals of pain to shoot from nerve endings to brain receptors. Staring down the shaft of the gun, I take a long deep breath. This is the final point in a long bizarre story that has no happy ending. The memories weave themselves inside and out, past and present, backwards and forwards until I cannot survive another moment. It was as hard to remove myself from his grip, as it would be to leave a cult. Even after I mustered the courage to leave, the fear still hangs over me like a shroud. Every future moment is tinted black and I feel I am forever alone.
    The telephone startles me and I jerk my head backwards, gasping for air. Gripping the barrel until my knuckles show white, I pause and listen. Has he found me?
    Should I answer it? No, it’ll go to the answering machine.
    I put the gun back into my mouth, pointing it ever so carefully at the roof of my mouth. Will life be snuffed out in one final pop? Will the end just be black emptiness swallowing me whole? Will I finally have peace?
    Silence. They must have hung up.
    My voice comes from the answering machine. “I’m not home, leave a message after the beep.”
    “Hey. Pick up! It’s your biggest fan. You know, the weird goofy guy who loves you more than anyone else?”
    I snort. Perfect timing – a wrong number. I look at the gun again.
    The voice continues talking into the answering machine.
    “Seriously though. I know you don’t know me but I had this weird feeling that I had to call this number and tell you that God loves you. That’s all. Weird, I know. I hope you’re having a great day.”
    I stare at the machine, unable to comprehend what just happened.
    Suddenly, great wracking sobs release from deep within, tearing up the damaged recesses of my soul.

  7. Jeanette R. says:

    The girls sat with their arms weaved together, swaying from side to side, singing Happy Birthday for the fifth time.  The empty Vodka bottle stood erect in the center.  It was the only type of liquor they could get their hands on in such short notice.  The birthday girl was never a fan of the hard stuff, but it didn’t matter; no one would be drinking it anyway.

    The bubbly redhead broke free from the pack and stumbled over to the sink.  She picked up the soaked ball of fur and announced that they were ready.  

    “Alright ladies who’s first?”  She pointed at her arch nemesis and smirked.  “Rebecca, I don’t believe you’ve had a chance to do it yet.”

    Rebecca scanned the room to see if anyone had volunteered.  She still hadn’t adjusted to the cult of personality but decided to acquiesce.  

    “I know you’re new to this but just put it where it belongs and you’ll be fine.”

    The cacophony of laughter popped in the room sending fear spiraling down Rebecca’s back. She knew the girls were bizarre from their first meeting, but it was a Saturday night and she had nothing better to do.

    Grabbing the proffered item, she escaped into the bathroom and laid it to rest on the toilet cover.  The weird, gray color made her think of its intended use.  She had been drunk before and had liked it.  It was tempting to not have the side effects or nausea or the excess calories.

    Pulling down her pants, she reached for the tampon and inserted. She stared at the Goofy soap dispenser as the burn began.

    The story was inspired by a news report. I’m still in shock.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Jeanette: “Hey Jeanette-gal. Dats some diss-gustin’ stuff right there! We’s seent it all now…and, we ain’t never doin’ dat butt-beer-bong stuff.” 😉

    • Holy moly! You know how you read something and, as it progresses, you shake your head in vehement denial of the inevitable conclusion? This is one of those times where “Tell” beats the heck out of “Show”. No way I would have believed that, otherwise.
      The foreshadowing was excellent: The empty Vodka bottle stood erect in the center.
      A subtle sexual reference didn’t hurt, either. 🙂
      So funny, your comment to Shane about the boyz. I was thinking, “That’s all Billy and Bobby need to see.”

    • Jen says:

      In my best shocked mother voice: Oh. My. Stars. That is some nasty stuff, yo. For real? How on earth? I mean…I just. No. But great writing.

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        You keep outdoing yourself, Jeanette!  Like Mitch said, the foreshadowing was delicious, and I love the line: “…no one would be drinking it anyway.”  What a hook!  What are they going to do with it, then?  And then the payoff!  Perfectly crafted!

    • Dee says:

      um…wow..  No I had no idea. I think I will stick to Baileys in my coffee thank you!

  8. Jen says:

    I had so much fun with this one.

    There’s no point listening to her goofy story, except she’s so bizarre, you can’t help but want to hear. You just know she’s going to take you on some spiral of a of a journey. Like the one time she was working at a hotel, doing cleaning service, you know? Like a maid or whatever. She had just put those mini bottles of shampoo on the counter, the stinky kind, and left the room. Verla was standing there, thinking about getting a weave like that girl on TV, what’s-her-face, you know? Oh, shoot. I totally forget her name. But whatever. You know you I mean. With the weave? Anyway, Verla can’t get a weave. She’s got the straightest, dirty-blondest hair I’ve ever seen on a person. Just nasty. Can’t blame her, of course. She didn’t pick her hair. Bless her heart. So she’s standing in the hotel hallway, all those people getting up late and walking down to breakfast like they own the place, some of ‘em wearing their pajamas and their housecoats like they’re at home or something. Not to judge or anything. But gross. Verla’s fanning herself, because, I think this is the summer she’s working down the beach, followed that dumb guy of hers. Yeah. That’s right. The one left her when she got knocked up. So this weird guy comes stumbling down the hallway. Verla says it looks for all the world like he’s slept all night, and maybe a day or two in those clothes, he’s so rumpled. He’s all mumbling to himself and she knows this is a man who’s drunk more than he could hold if he had a hollow leg, if you know what I mean. He’s talking all kinds of nonsense. Verla pops her gum, stocking another room with those scratchy white towels, you know?  But she can hear the guy coming, talking like he’s in some cult or something. He stops near her cart, Verla, oh, man, when you hear Verla tell the story, I start to laugh right here at this part every time. Yeah. Right. Because I know what’s coming. She says he puts out his hand as if he’s gonna grab her! She said there’s no way she’s helping this guy get wherever he’s going. So she pushes her little cleaning cart out a inch or so and he grabs on that. And he bends over and just totally barfs! Right there! When Verla tells the story, she always tells it same way. Verla says, “So I says to him, I ain’t cleaning up that puke.”  Marches off with little bits of his dinner stuck to her shoes. God I love that story. Verla.

  9. Dee says:

    Start pleasepleaseplease! Stupid truck. The key rattled in the ignition and finally the motor made a sound that was deafening. They would hear. I put the truck in drive and I stomped the gas petal hoping this was just some cult. Maybe my coffee was drugged. I couldn’t get the weird vision out of my head. The truck was weaving and rocking on the bumpy road. I rubbed my eyes with my fist thinking the pain might wake me up from whatever this was. I needed to pay attention or I would spiral off a cliff.

    There wasn’t much point in getting away from them if I died in a goofy driving accident. Where to? Home? Aedan could show up and…and what? Was I afraid of him now? What was that pop? The truck started limping and rocking on the ridges of the track now. It wasn’t really a road any more. Tires were not meant to go so fast over these rocks. I said a quick prayer that it would make it to Simon’s house. I was not a fan of walking in the dark, especially when I was hallucinating wolves. Simon would know what to do. He was the only friend anywhere near here. She would tell him about this bizarre night and he would have some simple explanation and they would laugh about it.

    I pulled the truck up to the edge of the trees. You couldn’t drive all the way to his cabin. She cut the engine off and listened for a moment hearing nothing but the ticking of the engine cooling. The sudden silence was eerie. How many steps up the hill to his porch. I gathered my courage and reached for the door lock when the truck rocked and I felt something heavy land in the bed. The rear view mirror showed glowing eyes getting closer as claws clicked on the metal. So much for hallucinations.

    • Frank Ruiz says:

      Whoa!  Super-awesome, Dee!  Such suspense!  I loved your descriptions of the truck limping and the ticking of the engine cooling.  It put me right into the scene.

      • Dee says:

        thanks Frank. It has some problems that I have fixed on the original. I am at a tiny bit over thirty thousand words so not too much editing going on.

  10. Dee says:

    sorry – I pasted it the first time and had a bunch or weird formatting so I edited and then I couldn’t bold the words – trust me please they are all there! Aaarg.

  11. […] Creative Copy Challenge 194 […]

  12. Just got back in from Vegas yesterday so couldn’t join early, here is my entry for today:

    Crazy Fan

    Bizarre cult fan
    spiral weave crafted
    to make some goofy point
    red and gold colors pop
    where else did he put
    that weird body paint?

  13. Rebecca says:

    “Oh what a tangled web we weave,
    When first we practise to deceive!”
    ~ Sir Walter Scott

    Melanny pondered Sir Walter Scott’s words as she gazed at the ocean from the deck of her Malibu home. She’s been contemplating life since her childhood best friend Karrey overdosed a few weeks ago. Melanny tried to help her, but she couldn’t. No one could. Life really is a spiral. We think we move backward, when in fact, we continue to move forward. How bizarre is that? What is the point of life? She continued to stare at the ocean.

    Karrey had a goofy, weird sense of humor – some people thought she was over the top. She loved The Cult and was a huge fan of music from the 1990s. Karrey loved alternative music but would listen to Pop music now and again. She was a free spirit through and through. Why did she have to put those damn drugs into her body? Melanny was searching for answers that may never be answered.

  14. sh13151223 says:

    Spiraling around the point the hallucination weaved out a bizarre world, the cult of fans were weird people, their eyes popping out with anxiety and goofy brains, victims of greed, the light from the elite world of pristine thoughts were put aside, will he reincarnate?

  15. Pam says:

    Spiral Weave put on the concert of the year at Point Pleasant Beach. Fans of the cult pop group copied their idols’ bizarre, weird and just plain goofy style of dress, leading locals to wonder if there was a circus in town.

  16. Kelly says:

    I saw the Brooklyn Bridge tonight
    I took a weave after the U.N. building
    It’s kind of goofy, I’m not usually out that way but I guess
    I wanted to be reminded of something.
    I’m weird like that, you used to say—
    and it’s true.
    I’m a romantichippiesemicynicaltarotreadinglapsedcatholic
    and you know what that results in, mmhm.
    Watching for omens and signs and winks from the angels
    that I’m sure would look out for me if only
    I were worthy of them.
    So I scanned the sky, and the sky said, “Just keep walking,”
    and there was the East River and well,
    you can’t go in there, so I just put one foot in front of the other and kept walking some more.
    When the air had finally replaced the ennui in my lungs with joy
    (the bizarre, inexplicable joy of utter exhaustion, no doubt)
    I spread my arms and did a couple of spiralling jumps into the dark
    maybe someday I’ll be taken up by the angels when I do that.
    Maybe someday someone official will think I’m crazy when I do that
    and put me away.
    Que sera, sera.
    Nobody popped me tonight, so there I was
    on the point of collapse, far
    too far
    from home; facing a long walk back
    but first,
    facing the immutable marvel of the Brooklyn Bridge. Cultural icon. Stoic beauty.
    She tells everyone who asks her
    that their problems are small
    and that in the morning
    the sun will fan out over this great city as ever it has
    and it will shine—even on you, O Seeker—once again.
    But I wanted to be reminded of something else.
    So I didn’t ask.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Kelly: Love what you did here. You made me read faster and faster as I approached the end. Only a true story-slinger knows how to do that.

      • Kelly says:

        Shane—   😀  This one felt so true, I almost drove up to the bridge *after* I wrote it, just to soak in her strength and get what the narrator was trying to get from her.

  17. […] Creative Copy Challenge #194.Words: Put, Point, Bizarre, Weave, Spiral, Weird, Goofy, Pop, Cult, Fan […]

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