Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #236

This is a writing prompt. Bet you can’t do it! 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. Birth
  2. Simple
  3. Kill
  4. Mouth
  5. Save
  6. Everlasting
  7. Spite
  8. Root
  9. Stretch
  10. Early

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
The Digital Writer
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there


33 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #236”

  1. No one says:

    a simple 
    a little early, 
    still the mouth
    would root 
    the arms stretch
    but this the child of 
    spite she thought, 
    would save everything,
    be everlasting …. 
    was why she didn’t
    just kill herself.

  2. Thought this was a fun one today,

    Birth of an everlasting hunger
    early stretch before the hunt
    small fangs save a mouth that can kill
    his simple breakfast only inches away
    crawling in spite preparing to feast
    kitten begins to root for mothers milk

  3. Too big to fail, Monstratos emerged from the womb of chapter 11 bankruptcy proceedings early on the morning of April 19th. The birth in San Bernardino County was witnessed by few, as the world was enraptured with a specific stretch of highway in Dallas. Bertram Shifflett walked out of Central Court with another shot at life everlasting.
    Shifflett, the erstwhile embattled CEO of the Monstratos agribusiness empire, had won the heart of the judge with his simple plan to reverse the damage caused by the near-extinction of Apis mellifera, the industrious honey bee. In spite of the fact that it was his company’s aggressive biochemical interference that had created the calamity in the first place, Shifflett had assured Judge Irvin Zielinsky that Monstratos was perfectly positioned to restore the balance of natural selection.
     Zielinsky, no mere tree-hugger advocate, had recognized the Monstratos juggernaut for what it was: an efficient global delivery system, capable of rapidly deploying the economic revitalization program presented to the court. The judge quickly approved the plan, which included the cancellation of 90 per cent of Monstratos contracts. The gardeners were spared. Indeed, this special group would save the company, the country and – of course – the bees. The plan also killed what little value remained of the corporate stock. New, over-the-counter issues would finance the retooling project that was the heart of the revitalization program. Monstratos had just transformed into a new breed of firm: bionanotechnoly.
    Bertram Shifflett’s first order of business was to rebuild his team. Post-filing defections had crippled the org chart near its root; he would start fresh with new blood. For public relations, he reached out to his former enemy, Pearl Filisame. She had broken the story on the pheromone scandal and, though he would get his revenge one day, Shifflett saw no reason why he couldn’t make use of her brilliant brain in the interim. If she was going to be running her mouth, he may as well be the one with his hand up her dress.
    For the research arm, he tapped Arnie Long. Arnie was a promising theoretical roboticist. His paper on mitral valve tissue nanoreplicators spawned a cottage industry in the medical profession. He arrogantly referred to himself as an MVP, insulting the millions of people suffering from the disease. Nevertheless, Shifflett hoped that Arnie would be able to design the creature that had sold a judge: the nano bee.

    This is based on the story presented in CCC #122. 

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Mitch: Outstanding. As one who’s into self sufficiency and growing my own, healthy food, I loved this submission.

      P.S. Check out this site for some fodder http://www.sonofafarmer.com/

      • Thanks, Shane. Now I have an even better resource for research. While I’m having fun with the story line, it is frightening to read the REAL stories of Monsanto.

    • Jen says:

      OOoh. The start of fresh conspiracy with his hand up her skirt! bionanotechnology. Love it. Crown the king. 

      • Awww, Jen. thanks! 🙂 I was just telling my dad how I had bees on the brain after seeing a dead one. I got to thinking about Holly’s serious article on the subject and I decided that, no matter what the prompts were, I was going to do my nano bees! 🙂
        While I have no plans to expand this, I hope it won’t take another 100+ posts before I examine it again.

  4. Jen says:

    She knows, I thought. As soon as her frumpy assistant opened the door, as soon as I pressed my mouth to her tissue paper cheek, that she knew. It used to be so simple. They used to be so ready to forget what they learned, if they found me out before I could dash off with a pocket of cash. 
    She received my kiss. She smiled, a broad stretch of lips, revealing pink gums, the seam of a poorly adhered set of dentures. My stomach turned at the site of it. What the hell was I doing? 
    “We better have fun tonight, James. I’ve been saving myself all day for a little adventure.” Was it my eyes or was there a kind of leering vulgarity in her grin. 
    “Forgive me,” I whispered close to her ear, catching a lungful of Chanel Number 5. I stifled a cough. “I’m just a tad early. I was too excited to see  you.” I stepped back to watch the roots of her hair for the blush this statement can coax. It didn’t come, but her smile remained, as did that indecipherable question in her eyes. I began to doubt myself. 
    We floated out the door on my doubt and her bemusement. The moment, to an onlooker, might have been the picture of everlasting joy, but I can tell you, I was sweating. 
    The car stood waiting, a young man stood holding open the door for Merritt. At first, I thought the man said something unremarkable, like “good evening.” I hardly expected conversation with the drivers. But she was answering back. His words came to my ears and my understanding in waves. What he had said was, “Hello, Grandma.” 
    I looked at her, looked at him. I couldn’t understand her, or what she meant. Then I stared at the young man. He looked so familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Not one of my peers, certainly. I knew nearly everyone working an angle in the city. These things go in cycles. 
    Merritt turned to me, spite had replaced anything I had seen just moments ago. “This is my grandson,” and she turned to him, to catch his name again. “Trey. Trey, meet my friend James.” 
    I couldn’t help myself. “I didn’t know you had a grandson, just the one kid, Jasper, and he never had any kids.” 
    She fixed me with her eyes, and it was over. I killed it, with one careless misstep. She’d never told me about Jasper. I just confirmed her suspicions. 
    “Few people know about my grandson. His birth was something of a secret.” She looked back at the young man, who was still holding the door open. “Well, Trey, it is rather nice to meet you. Care to escort me to dinner, where we can sort this out?” 
    I watched the lights of the car blinking into the grey street. Nothing to show for any of my effort. I was through. 

    • Wicked! That was an exciting read. I loved the way you showed the whole thing unraveling, especially with the unromantic interlude at the door.
      The best line is at the end: it’s almost cinematic – I can picture him standing there with his shoulders slumped…

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Jen: SO FUNNY! Love what you did here.

  5. Rebecca says:

    Angelina had a strange feeling that evil was about to give birth to something. She handed the picture back to Roseland. Her mouth was dry and she needed to stretch. It was too early to have to deal with something so gruesome. Thank God it’s not foggy today. This wasn’t a simple kill. I can feel it being rooted in something old. Feels a little Sumerian. Could it be? I need to talk to granny.
    “For the everlasting God,” said Detective Roseland.
    Angelina shook her head. Everyone’s quick to blame God and thinks God should save them. Try saving yourselves for once.
    “Detective despite what you think of me, I can tell you that a human didn’t commit this crime. You’re dealing with something extraordinary and worldly. You’re dealing with something that surpasses ancient Sumeria,” said Angelina.
    “Jesus,” said Roseland.
    Angelina smiled. No, Jesus wasn’t around at the time. The prophet didn’t make his appearance until later.
    “I need to start researching right away. This could take a while,” said Angelina.

  6. David Kirba says:

    It is a land as old as mankind. Its history fascinating and its people remarkable. It has been called the place of man’s birth and its tales stretch back to the early days of our collective memory.

    Yet people think of it as a place of death and not of life. A famine, a dictator and a civil war brought it down to its knees, but did not kill it. Rising from the ashes, it is but a shadow of its former self.

    Getting up to stretch, it got hit by a lethal mix of globalization and capitalism. Visitors find it wonderful, but those of us who remember the old days find it miserable. Gone is the simple lifestyle of yesteryear and the laidback attitude. There is no more time for a conversation and a cup of coffee. We now chase the alleged root of all evil – money. It’s not that there are more mouths to feed, the famine is long gone. 

    Like the teacher said, “There is nothing new under the sun,” and right in front of my eyes I witness the everlasting cycle of good becoming bad and never better. Yes, we all have mobile phones now, but is that really what we needed?

    Who can save us?

    Don’t spite me for not telling you the name of the nation that has taken me in as one of its own. I thought you all needed to get off your laptops, take a walk and try to improve your knowledge of geography 😉

  7. Shane Arthur says:

    My simple birth occurred early in the spring.

    The spite from my caretaker’s mouth occurred everlasting.

    I was the root of his trouble — “Fucking killin’ my beer buzz lookin’ at you, and stretching my wallet thin caring for your disobedient ass!” he’d scream as he wore that silly apron of his.

    If I could scream back, “Well, save me by fucking giving me more food and water, asshole!” I would, but I can’t.

    Sometimes I hate being a blade of grass.

  8. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … Thank you … I do love supernatural (and the TV show) and out-of-this-world topics. It’s what I miss about not living in Arizona. There was always a UFO sighting, talk about skin-walkers in the Superstition Mountains, etc. I’ll get back to AZ and or CA one of these days. 🙂

  9. I can’t believe I didn’t get this posted until now…bah!

    Part 7
    Another barrel led a dead man around the corner. Ryan pulled the trigger twice more and the man died.

    Another trigger pull.
    Slide recoils.
    Slide snaps into place with a dull metallic clunk.
    Pull trigger.
    Thug dies.
    Slide recoils.
    Slide snaps open.
    Ryan hears yet another man coming. Nothing can save him now. Ryan takes a few steps forward, towards the center of the house, his intention the bedroom where he had last seen Kaetlyn.

    Ryan didn’t even look as his right thumb ejected the spent magazine on his .45 while his left had drew one of the spares from its pouch on his belt. He didn’t have to see the magazine fit into the grip of the pistol he only needed the satisfying click of hearing it snap home for his right thumb to release the slide and seat another lethal round. Just in time.
    Trigger pulled.
    Slide recoils.
    Slide snaps forward.
    Trigger pulls.
    Thug dies.
    The house fell to a silence that cops know means there is no one alive inside. Ryan stopped, hoping against hope, listening for any sound, any sign. Clocks ticked. Water dripped. Death rattles escaped the throats of the last two thugs. He thought he heard a cry from upstairs. Kaetlyn! He would kill whoever was in this house, that much was clear, and the only thing he could do for Kaetlyn if she was still alive.

    He headed to the stairs, still trying to be quiet, still trying to remember his training. Still trying to calm the flood of adrenaline that was flowing through him now. Steps follow living room. One at a time as he ascends.
    “It is simple really.” A younger Ryan Jones was saying to a younger Kaetlyn McMurtry, on a blanket in the woods. Their picnic was almost packed up. “You can come and live with me in everlasting bliss, rising early, staying up late.” She punched him in the arm.

    “That is a stretch Patrolman Jones.” She said easily. “But in spite of your silly notions of not sleeping in until noon or so, I will come and live with you. At least until the birth.”

    Ryan’s eyes widened. “Wha…what…what?” he finally got out. She began laughing hysterically and he knew it was a joke. “Oh, I get it.” He said and threw a piece of root at her. She lunged at him and planted a huge kiss on his mouth. “You vex me woman.” Ryan said feigning sterness and failing. He kissed her back, and began planning what to do with only half of a closet.

  10. Deb. Price says:

    Almost from birth I have been driven to find the simple truth, who was after me, who had been chasing me my whole life. More importantly, who is trying to kill me? Several decades later I am no closer to finding the answers and the chase continues.

    My inheritance at birth was a debt owed generations ago passed down through the years until it’s payment fell on me, the last one in my line, of my kind. Centuries ago we all knew who would win, who was chosen, who to trust and who to be wary of. Original documents contained entire family lines but over the years the list became degraded as people just disappeared. Under the cover of dark the book was removed and destroyed taking with it hundreds of names and splintering the group. All that remained of our original story was being told by word of mouth save the few charred scraps of paper held by the Elders.

    Not a feud in the literal sense but rather an everlasting game of chance as the pursued would in turn become the pursers. This game has gone on for hundreds of years and no one today is really sure of how it started. Without prejudice or judgement we exterminated blood lines in spite of our own personal relationships, carrying out the root purpose of our own destinies. 

    Today I am the pursued and as I push father into the corner the waning daylight begins it’s slow stretch into nightfall. Tomorrow will come far too early.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Deb: That was fantastic. Sorry I took so long to respond to this. Great stuff. What did you think of the challenge?

  11. Life has never been simple. Trouble started with an early birth and made its stretch into Millie’s 6th year.

    I look in her mouth for the billionth time. Listen to her chest and realize a sigh has escaped my lips. I have always known I could not save her. Yet I have prescribed horrible treatments in spite of this knowledge.

    I make the obligatory notes on the chart and slip it into its too familiar spot. As I move to the door I touch her father on the shoulder. Not in sympathy, that left a long time ago. Now that all hope is gone, the message is regret. I regret ever creating ideas of what would never be.

    The nurse looks up as I walk past her desk. I can feel her questions on my back as I enter the parking lot. Although my Lexus looks like the perfect escape I can not turn the key.

    What has caused this change? Was it watching the treatments kill the sparkle Millie’s eyes? I see myself in the rear view mirror. My eyes are a flat dull grey. All light gone with the light of a thousand Millie’s.

    Is there hope? Or am I still creating ideas that will never be? Will that part of me that Millie has touched rise to the occasion and make an everlasting impression? One that can carry me back to the roots of healing. To the reasons I became a doctor.

    With the top down, the mist off the ocean whips my face and beats frantically at my hair. Suddenly, the thought of Millie infuses the space and brings a since of well being.

  12. Kelly says:


    At the birth of today, I
    feel your warmth, pressed
    ‘gainst my back

    It’s a small thing that could mean
    anything at all

    And you stretch and roll out of a
    mess of early
    morning sheets

    It’s a simple move, that never fails to pull me in

    One day, you’re
    gonna save my
    everlasting soul

    One day, the
    sight of your mouth will

    In spite of the demons I carry
    you make me want to smile
    You’re gonna kill my blues, and
    I’ll never go back there again

    At the root of it all, I
    want to be swept
    up in style

    I wanna give just what I get—
    anything at all

    I wanna tell you we got a
    whole hour to
    mess these sheets

    It’s a simple phrase that, never fails to pull you in

    One day, you’re
    gonna save my
    everlasting soul

    One day, the
    sight of your mouth will

    In spite of the demons I carry
    you make me want to smile
    You’re gonna kill my blues, and
    I’ll never go back there again

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