Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #247

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. Throw
  2. Hit
  3. Share
  4. Rush
  5. Roll
  6. High
  7. Auto
  8. Low
  9. Enter
  10. Blur

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


18 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #247”

  1. Extra! Extra! Film at Eleven
    There are times when the plot refuses to thicken. Whether the villain tries to rush the hero and throw him like a wrestler or he decides to take him out with a sanctioned hit from a speeding auto, the viewer is left to wonder if this attempt at high drama is just peep show for sports bar patrons. That’s when the Legats enter the picture.

    Long before improv married karaoke and gave birth to Milli Vanilli, the Legat Society was taking method acting to new lows. These folks aren’t content to be extras; their share of the spotlight begins to blur with that of the actors whose scenes they steal, gaffes they cover and lines they ad lib. Indeed, the Legats bring realism to the coffee shop nattering rhubarb.

    As soon as the film begins to roll, keep an eye on the background! If you’re lucky, you may spot them arguing about macroeconomics or giggling inappropriately over a trashy magazine surreptitiously hidden from the camera.
    In case you’re like me, I’d like to point out that I find the background action highly entertaining. One particular television show, Better Off Ted, seemed to delight in providing continuity in the background of many of their scenes.
    It would be interesting to learn that a secret society of rogue extras was on the loose…

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Mitch: That is so cool! Never heard of Legats Society. That’s real?

      • Shane, I made it up.
        When I worked at the FBI, I learned that it had international offices called legal attachés. Also around that time, I was heavily into spy novels and I think it was John LeCarré who used the shortened term “legat” in his novels.
        I always thought that was cool. 🙂

  2. Reality hit me right between the eyes, a brick fragmenting the mirror of my life. Shattered pieces reflect the highs and lows that made up the entirety of my time shared with him in our 14 years of marriage. So often our days were set on auto – get up, send kids to school, go to work, come home, throw on supper, homework, fall asleep watching tv, rinse and repeat. We always seemed in a rush to get through life, irritable from lost sleep, angered from constantly fighting traffic, constantly frustrated with smaller incoming finances than outgoing bills. Life just rolled on by, leaving a momentary faded blur with happiness and apathy simultaneously dissolving at the edges.

    I enter the emergency department on rubbery legs, barely able to comprehend the idea that I may be losing him before I really even allowed myself to completely know him. I always mentally held him at arm’s length, constantly afraid of allowing myself to be completely vulnerable. Now I just beg God for one more moment to draw him into my arms and tell him how much I need him, how much I love him. 

  3. […] Creative Copy Challenge # 247 […]

  4. Nikki J. says:

    I feel like I’ve been thrown a curve ball. Or maybe hit is a better word. I hate to share and maybe bore others, but I can’t help this rush of emotion right now- I just have to roll with it. My head was high up in the clouds today but that one phone call made me come crashing down. I was on auto-pilot tonight with the kids, trying to pretend that I was okay until I got them in bed. Now I’m just at a very low place. I’ve never truly entered this place until now. I can hardly see pas the tears- everything is such a blur.
    *not an extension to my Deployment Diaries series.

  5. Sean Murphy says:

    Following from CCC #245
    She was honey-blonde, petite, and innocent looking. A natural tan complimented soft features and a welcoming smile. The girl screamed wholesomeness. It took him a long moment before it hit him that he was being. This was outside of his experience – wholesome girls didn’t talk to him, not in polite language, anyway. Girls who hung out at hole-in-the-wall biker bars, sure, but girls who looked like they belonged behind a white picket fence tended to shy away from him, like they could sense a dangerous, low-life vibe coming off him and didn’t want any part of it. The irony brought a smile to his face as he tipped his head in acknowledgement of her comment. Unshowered, up all night, and having just disposed of a body, he was apparently more approachable than he’d ever been.
    “It sure is something. I’ve never been by this way before – you say this happens every year?”
    “Every year since I’ve been here, sure. My family moved out from the east coast when I was 12, wanted us to grow up away from the crowds. I’ve been coming to the festival every year since.”
    It seemed like her parents had chosen well – she certainly fitted in amongst the friendly crowds and the warm, dry air. But he was thrown off his stride by the unprovoked openness of her mannerisms. She was sharing her life story like a close acquaintance, when they hadn’t even exchanged names.
    He extended a hand to shake hers “Name’s Joel. It’s a pleasure to meet you…”
    “Laura,” she replied, a sweet smile accompanying the handshake.
    She was still treating him like a decent human being. Time to roll the dice. “Are you busy, Laura? I’d love to see this fair of yours with a local to show me around.” If his newfound sense of freedom projected strongly enough to entice a conversation, maybe his new persona could actually associate with a nicer type of person. It was a heady thought.
    She hesitated, and his heart sank low, but it was only for a moment. “Sure, I’d love to. I’m meeting someone later, but I’ve got plenty of time. I always enter early to say hi to the regulars.” Meeting someone. In his language, that was code for “I’ve got a boyfriend, don’t get any ideas”. It was fine by him – spending some time with someone this pleasant would be the perfect palate cleanser to start his new life.
    They had reached the gate to the field of hot air balloons, and walked through to the blur of colours in companionable silence, both of them taking in the impressive sight. “So are these just for display, or do they take off?” He asked her after a moment.
    “Oh, they’re not for show. They go up high every morning. We’ve got a few hours until then, though. The test balloons are up to make sure the wind is good, and the crews down here have to get everything set up.”
    “Seems like you really like this festival,” he said, a smile being drawn out by her enthusiasm. In this relaxed setting, he was starting to feel the effects of almost a full day without sleep, struggling to keep his conversation off auto-pilot. “Have you ever been up in one?”
    She nodded, “When I first moved out here, I was pretty sulky about leaving the coast. My parents made a big effort to sell me on this place,” she paused, smiling at the memory, “They bought me a ride on one of the commercial balloons for my 13th birthday. It was such a rush to see the desert spread out like a map from up there. It really did make me feel like I knew the place. I’ve been coming back ever since.”
    “You ever go up again?”
    “Every year,” she nodded “But I don’t pay for the tourist rides these days. Most of the local pilots know me well enough to let me up with them for company.” She looked over at him speculatively. “Do you want to go for a ride? I know a few people who’d have room for two.”
    The offer seemed to generous, even as he was eager to take it. “You’re already showing me around. I wouldn’t want to impose anymore.”
    “Don’t be silly! They’re going up anyway, passengers just mean taking on less ballast. It’s no trouble.” She seemed eager now, and the enthusiasm lit her features up with a naïve beauty that tugged at him dangerously.
    “Well, I’d be a fool to throw an offer like that away. It sounds wonderful.”

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Sean: Write a book! (I say this to various people here, and I mean it!)

      • Sean Murphy says:

        What do you think I’m trying to do?! hah.
        Seriously though, thanks for the encouragement – the CCC is great for getting me out of a slump writing wise, so hopefully that book will materialize substantially faster than it would have otherwise.

  6. Couldn’t help but be reminded of a ball game with these words, even though I almost never watch them.

    Trailing No More
    Share the rush
    like an auto on high
    the throw a blur
    enter the hit
    crowds begin to roll
    ending the streak
    low score retribution 

  7. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blur; a white figure softly tinged at the edges with grey, fading in and out of reality. I try to force myself to believe that I don’t see it but I have seen this ethereal presence in the back hallway several times since he died. I have never shared this experience with anyone for fear of being declared insane.

    My present reality rolls backward into the low place of my mind, my consciousness screaming downward, scrabbling at the edges leaving claw marks of regret and fear. Flecks of bright light enter the edges of my vision.
    The sound of a body hitting a wall and a woman’s scream rush into my sense of hearing. The entire hallway practically shudders on impact.
    “You stupid bitch!” he yells, seconds before throwing the first punch. It goes high, hitting her in the temple. Her head snaps backward, and her body slides limply down the wall.
    “No!” I hear myself yell but the voice is wrong, it is that of a small child “Leave my Gram alone!” 
    I rush forward, as if on auto pilot, a simple quest to save someone I love. His fist rears back and catches me on the left side of my face, my feet suddenly lifted from the ground. The light shatters into a million fireworks, fading into sparks before blackness swallows me whole.
    As I emerge from the darkness, I see a wisp of the ghost fade into the back bedroom.

  8. […] Creative Copy Challenge #247 […]

  9. Bobbert says:

    Don’t know why, but the shorter ones don’t seem a lot of fun to write. Maybe I just don’t get it yet. But unless it’s powerful (like one I saw here written about a lady leaving behind her baby), I don’t know how much you can really get a reader to care, or feel like there was something pleasing for the reader. On the other hand, it does seem fun as a quick diversion. Well, whatever the case may be, here’s another try at a short one.

    Arnold was minding his own business, fixing the fence along his property line, when low and behold, he heard a rush as an ugly contraption bounced down his country lane where bicycles and horses carried his neighbors back and forth to town. But this was no horse, and some loud contraption with a bunch of noisy city dwellers were like a blur as they went by, and they nearly hit one of his fence posts. He picked up a rock to throw at the mechanical cart and scratched his head as he tried to figure out what it was. “Well, dog gone it. What’s the rush? You idiots will never enter my house, that’s for sure. You know, I’ve seen my share of progress” he said to no one in particular, “and whatever this is, it’s certainly not progress.” 
    But Arnold had a change of heart twenty-two years later when he welcomed in those same men to his farm house. After some easy negotiations, he became an instant millionaire after his farm land was bought for manufacturing car parts, and had not trouble learning how to live the high life. His last words to his grandson were reported to be the following: “Son, I’ve learned a lot in my days here on this green earth. I want you to listen closely and learn from your grandpa. Let me share with you the secret of life. It’s all about vision. That’s what will get you ahead in life. Hard work and vision. When I first saw an auto roll down my road, I knew it was the beginning of something great. Vision. That’s how I got rich. And that’s what you need to remember, if you want to be successful.”

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