Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #242

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. Sink
  2. Bag
  3. Hour
  4. Miss
  5. Raise
  6. Cold
  7. Understand
  8. Light 
  9. Now
  10. Promise

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


43 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #242”

  1. Nikki J. says:

    When is this light going to change?! I just want to get home. Elise sat impatiently at the wheel. I could just turn now… Its not like there are that many cars on the road right now.. Elise was trying to justify her impatience when the light finally changed. She slowly stepped on the gas pedal and headed out into the intersection. As she was turning the wheel she saw a bright light coming at her from her left. There was no time to think- no time to act! “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Elise shrieked and had no time to brace herself before impact. “BOYS!” She screamed right before her vehicle took the impact.
    Elise could feel her body sink back into her seat after the air bag hit her body and then everything went black. 
    Elise looked around and hear people talking to her but she had no idea what they were all saying, all she knew is that her head felt terrible. Things were slowly coming back to her- We were hit! The boys? Are the boys okay? She tried to form the words in her mouth but she was just so tired and confused. How long ago were we hit? It felt like she had been asleep for hours.
    Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me? My name is Jason, I am a paramedic and we are taking you to the hospital.” Elise tried to reply but she couldn’t fight the drowsiness off any longer.
    Elise next awoke in a room. How long have I been out? She tried to raise her head to look around but her body just felt too heavy and she stopped trying to move. A cold fear overtook her as she slowly remembered what had just happened. “My boys… My babies…” was all she could get out before falling asleep again.
    There were now voices in the room, one of a woman and a man. “You don’t understand. Its just too soon to tell her this news” said the woman. “I know, but she deserves to know” replied a man. Elise tried to open her eyes, but the light was extremely bright. Elise was curious what they were talking about but once again decided to give into sleep.
    This time when Elise awoke the room was dark but she could hear the man and woman out in the hallway talking again. Everything was still very fuzzy for Elise but she knew she needed to wake up now to find out what was going on. She slowly tried to sit up in her hospital bed, but the pain was so intense! What happened to me? My head hurts so much…Elise decided it was better to stay laying down instead of trying to get up. Just then there was a knock at the door and two men and a woman entered the room. BDUs? It must be someone from Todd’s work checking in on me and the kids.

    Elise was trying so hard to pay attention to what the chaplain and her husbands commander were trying to tell her but her head just hurt so bad that she couldn’t focus. Something about Todd not being able to come home soon and that he was so sorry about what happened to her and the boys. She tried her hardest to focus on what they were saying but sleep was calling her name. She promised herself that she would stay awake to hear whatever it was they had to say but she just couldn’t and everything faded…


  2. Chris Fries says:

    Got like a poetry mojo workin’,
    although there’s no rhyme…
    I’m taking a hacksaw to the 10×10;
    and cutting it shorter this time.
    I’m turning it into a “10×5,”
    for lack of a better name.
    With five words going out,
    and five returning in this game.
    “A Pressing Appointment”

    Sink into sterile white sheets;

    Oxygen bag fills and empties.

    In an hour it’ll stop.

    You will not miss it.

    Your head does not raise,

    and your hands grow cold.

    You do not understand why,

    but the light slowly fades.

    Until: Now it is time.

    Promise made, but never kept…


    • Chris Fries says:

      If that’s too dark, how about a “5×10”?

      “Waiting in Sally’s Kitchen…”

      Sink filled with dirty dishes; trash overflowing a broken bag.

      An hour waiting in kitchen chaos.  Doesn’t she miss me?

      I gently raise a window; the air’s cold but fresh.

      I just don’t understand her — no light of insight flashes.

      Then she arrives! I now promise that I’ll never leave.

    • Chris, you are on a roll! That was a nice dark poem.

      And Waiting in Sally’s Kitchen is another clever twist on your patented form!




    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Chris: And this is Writing Prompts 404. Dude!

  3. John F. Moynihan says:

    “Did you miss me?”, he slurred.
    Her response was cold, “You come home at this hour, smelling like pot and alchohol, and you want to know if I’ve missed you?” 
    She paused for effect, “No.  No, not at all.”
    In fact, she thought to herself, I didn’t even worry about you.  She had endured a first year of marriage that was just one disappointment after another.  Now he’d broken his promise for the last time.
    “Get out.”, she said calmly.
    “But I brought you something to eat.”, he said holding up a bag of White Castles.
    “My mother didn’t raise a fool.  I’m going to bed.  In the morning, I’m packing and moving in with my sister.”
    “Wait,” he said, “you don’t understand.”
    She turned, switched off the kitchen light and left the room.
    He stood there in the dark, taking it in.  Had she just said what he thought she said?  She was leaving? 
    Then suddenly, he felt something deep inside.  A disturbance that almost knocked him off his feet.  The events of the evening rushed through his head.  Where had he been?  What had he done? He realized that he had pushed the boundaries too far.  Now the consequences were at hand.
    At that moment he said out loud, “It must be the cheese fries.”
    With that, he staggered across the room and threw up in the sink.

  4. One hour before light of day, the monster shivered where he lay.
    His undead body’s ghastly bag, tumescent parcel in a rag.
    Despite his quaking uncontrolled, he wasn’t bothered by the cold.
    The fear of sunrise on his face, the promise to bring Hell’s embrace –
    Primal instincts as old as land, were all that he could understand.
    His muscles knowing what to do, the monster slithered to the loo.
    He neither paused nor stopped to think, until he reached the bathroom sink.
    As he could barely raise his head, he puked upon the floor instead.
    The monster felt much better now and did not want to miss his chow.
    He ran downstairs, hugged his mother, blamed the vomit on his brother.

  5. Late again for this one, here is my entry:

    False Hope
    Good deeds shall miss their mark
    when light and promise fade
    in a bag under a sink now lay
    understand the cold hour
    and those who raise hope
    only fool themselves again
    things won’t ever change 

  6. Jane stands at the kitchen sink and wonders about the promise she has made. Can I keep it? How could  I possibly understand what it takes?

    She reaches into the dish water, it has gone cold. She looks at the clock, realizes more than an hour has gone by. She will be late.

    As Jane pulls up to the house she can see Miss Mercie waiting on the back porch, clutching her purse and a garment bag.
    “I can do this? she breaths. I promised.” but she sinks back into the seat. What is expected of her?

    It is not as if she new the Mercie sisters well. She just happened to know them better than anyone else in town. And that was by default. Jane was the Library’s most frequent visitor, the two aging sisters, the Liberians.

    Miss Mercie looks smaller than usual. Her sister’s sudden death has taken its toll. Jane forces herself to get out of the car and help Miss Mercie with the garment bag.

    Once they are on there way, Miss Mercie speaks softly, “I found her. In her bed, as if she had just gone to sleep. The morning light streaming across her face. Cold, her spirit gone. Gone from her, gone from the house.

    I had no idea she would ever commit suicide. Always thought we were close. Now I don’t know what we were.”

    Jane let Miss Mercy go on.

    “She left a note you know. “Sorry” scrawled on lavender note paper. Sorry for what? 72 years can be filled with a lot of regrets.

    Calling the Sheriff was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I was mad by then. She created the circumstances that required outsiders to enter our house. I hope that was part of the “Sorry.”

    Jane parks the car at the funeral home. Miss Mercie touches her hand, “You can wait here dear,  I am just delivering the dress she saved for this occasion. Would you like to see it?”

    “Yes,” Jane smiles.

    Miss Mercie pulls a long soft pink voile with a satin sash from the bag.  A dress she touches lovingly.

    “It’s beautiful!”

    Yes it is. She was dazzling in this dress. Wore it to her college graduation. Didn’t know she was this flashy did you?

    “No, Can I walk in with you?”

    “Yes,  if you would like.”

    Jane takes Miss Mercie’s arm as they entered the funeral home. The funeral director meets them in the hallway.

    It is a simple transaction. Miss Mercie hands the dress to the director, tells him her sister wants to look beautiful. And they return to her house.

    Back on her porch she asks “Can I ask you one more favor? ”


    “Would you take me to the cemetery tomorrow? There will not be a service, but I would like to be there before they close her casket for the last time, put her in the ground. I want to see her in the dress and give her lilies from the garden.”

    “I would be honored.”

    Miss Mercie opens her purse, hands Jane a 2 books. “Sisters favorites, I want you to have these.”

    Jane goes to raise her hand in protest, but reaches for the books instead. I promised, she thinks.

  7. D.R. says:

    ***Our favorite duo is back in the theater once again.***

    Let us raise our glass- err soda, to this most joyous occasion. Now, you must promise me to continue on your path to writing and enjoying life. I understand life at times may beat you down and be unfriendly and cold, but you must persevere and keep on, keeping on. Please don’t sink into depression.Be hopeful.

    Oh, and happy birthday.

    My friend and I were toasting to another year of me surviving this place called Earth at our usual spot – the theater. I had been working so hard on my schoolwork, I became to miss our times together again. He joined in my light day of birth celebration with a toast, a hot dog, and of course, more interesting stories from his life.

    And now, how about a movie? They’re starting to play some short films here along with the new foreign ones. I’m really excited! Aren’t you? But before I could reply, he continued. There’s this amazing one that just started playing. And from a local student no less! The length is under an hour. Might you have time to join me? My treat.

    Of course I had the time. As we stood up, I grabbed my bag and made my way with him to the film. As we walked he excitedly began telling me a little bit about the film and its maker. I was getting excited until I heard him say it’s part horror. Horror. Great. The one type I film I fear to watch.
    Happy birthday to me indeed.

  8. Rebecca says:

    Continued from CCC #241
    “I promise I’ll be gentle,” said Richard. His lips formed into a Cheshire smile. He wanted to sink into her.
    Alexandra knew she had one shot to knock him out cold. She had enough light to see the crystal glass and get a firm grip. She couldn’t miss. Every hour counted and now was her chance to put her acting skills to the test. She had to have this performance in the bag.
    “Richard, I understand you’re anxious. But there’s no need to rush,” said Alexandra. She raised her eyebrow which knew drove him nuts. Time to get this show on the road!

  9. Sean Murphy says:

    It was cold. His thoughts jumbled, he wondered vaguely if that was evidence that he was alive. He supposed not – wouldn’t the afterlife be a chill, icy place? The thought was interrupted by a rapidly growing sensation of pain in his chest, like some creature was trying to burst out, Alien-style. The pain made him choke, and he was suddenly dazzled by silver bubbles reflecting the dim light in from of his face. It took him a moment to understand that he was under water.
    The surge of panic cut through the fog enveloping his head, and he was gripped with the vivid awareness that he was drowning. He barely suppressed the instinct to gasp for breath, attempted to thrash his arms, then cringed at the crippling pain the sudden movement shot through his head and neck. Nothing made sense. How did he get here? he could remember nothing of water – only Jennifer. He was going to spend the night for the first time, it had been the only thing on his mind for days. His head throbbed as he tried to connect the dots, and he gave up. Lungs burning, he tried to slowly raise a hand in the direction of the bubbles that were ascending out of sight. He fought the urge to shoot himself upwards, balancing a knife edge between the pain in his chest and the promise of agony in his neck. Now he stroked, creating a sensation of upwards movement, feeling hopeless. He was growing faint already, and he couldn’t even see the surface. Each movement seemed to take hours, and he no longer had any bubbles to lead the way. Would Jenny miss him, if he let himself sink? He felt like a bag of rocks was tied to his feet, even as the water running through his hair told him he was rising. He had promised they’d spend the weekend together. His fading mind didn’t have the focus to register the absurdity of the thought, but some remnant of energy fueled it into a strong kick upwards that accompanied his next stroke.
    It was so cold.

  10. Shane Arthur says:

    As the cold needle sinks into my arm, nearly missing a raised vein, I begin to understand the misery of the path millions have chosen. It seemed so promising at first. But now, hours later and with nothing but blood to show for my efforts, I raise my bleeding arm toward the light and say, “What the fuck were you thinking, dude? You’re a man; sewing ain’t your bag!”

  11. Shane, that was a twist I would have never expected! and loved.

  12. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … Thanks! I’m not sure where I’m going with this one, but it was fun to write.

  13. Bobbert says:

    As Tommy laid the bag of cold ice in the sink, the side of his face was still somewhat numb from the cold. It was only a three round fight, but he was so tired. And he only made it though one full round.
    He had told his father that he was an old man and just didn’t understand. You see I’m born to be a fighter, he had said. And Tommy had promised his father that he was going to be a successful pro fighter and bring in lots of money. He would be famous. 
    But now he remembered his fathers words. How he should find an hourly job with decent pay, and work hard to get a raise every year, and that eventually he wouldn’t miss fighting at all. One of these days, his father had told him, you’ll see the light. Tommy had hated him for it.
    Tommy sighed, and turned the overhead light on. He looked at it for a moment. Yeah, now I see it, Dad. He hung his gloves on a nail in the wall, and walked out of the gym, knowing he would never come back again.

  14. Kelly says:


    You couldn’t miss the light under her door. At that hour, I had the sinking feeling that it had to be trouble. When I pushed it open a crack, hoping she’d forgotten to switch the light off, I was face to face with my kid, her eyes cold, filling a small bag with underwear and socks. (Many kids might forget those when prepping to run away. Mine remembered nothing but.) I watched for a minute as she finished her task, seemingly oblivious to my presence. She raised the bag to her shoulders, then sat back down at the foot of the bed, in something like defeat, having forgotten what the next step might be.

    Now I understand,” I whispered. “Time for bed, okay?”

    She resisted me for a second, but when I promised sincerely that she could finish in the morning if she wanted to, she yielded to my gentle push and climbed back under the covers.

    An easy promise to make. When you have a sleepwalker, you know they won’t remember a thing in the morning, and will look at you like you’re crazy if you tell them what they were doing or offer to allow them to finish their running-away prep after they eat their apple-cinnamon oatmeal.

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