Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #248

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. Unite
  2. Shadow
  3. Waste
  4. Down
  5. City
  6. Yeah
  7. Whatever
  8. Live
  9. Juice
  10. Belong

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


46 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #248”

  1. Here is my contribution to today’s challenge:

    We belong in shadow
    the juice in city waste
    we live down wherever
    scrounging on whatever
    yeah, our toils are unknown
    but wait until we unite
    and begin to rise again 

  2. Cathy Miller says:

    Should we unite to travel into the shadow of waste that we may go down and explode what would destroy? Do we form a city that despair has known, where Freddie Mercury sings, Yeah, in seconds of time?

    Whatever our path, do we live for another day as we search for the nectar of juice to belong?

  3. Unbelievable

    The riverbank had been a killing zone for Earthbound sentients. It was a vacation paradise for Un-miriam and her boggart friends. They were on holiday, in the wake of the apocalypse, as they were no longer bound to humans. Un-miriam dipped her head into an oozing drum and drank deeply of the waste. In the blazing sun, it didn’t take long for pure juice to sweat from her pores. She slipped between two drums to rest.

    Un-bob admired the ebony shadow flitting from drum to drum, a spacetime-twisted black butterfly among the erstwhile human landfill. He wanted to unite with Un-miriam, but she was tired of his making un-babies. Un-bob couldn’t understand. Yeah, he was promiscuous, but it wasn’t like she had to carry the little monsters to term. She should be glad somebody wanted her skinny silhouette.

    He could have his pick of the litter down in the city. He couldn’t stand those shallow, two-dimensional whores, though. They only came out at high sun; not one of them had any appreciation for the subtleties of sunrise or dusk.  He’d asked one once, why she never came out in the cool of the evening. The silly cow said the light made her look too long. Well, duh! That was the point, right? Un-bob knew Un-miriam wasn’t like them. She told him that she was up for whatever, whenever with whoever. Apparently, she was a bit selective on the whoever, because, thus far, she had rebuffed his unity attempts.

    Seeing her drop between the drums, Un-bob decided to make another pass. However, just as he was about to pounce, a cloud blotted out the sun. The last thing Un-bob heard was, “Go live somewhere else. You don’t belong here.”

  4. Shane Arthur says:

    Hey You—Night! You shadow waster. When freaks get down in the city and the Yeah-whatever-street freaks live and die by the juice of the needles among the strewn garbage where they belong.

    This is a first for me. I decided to speed free-style this one. Write it as fast as I could and not worry about if it made sense or not. What a fun exercise this was.

  5. “We love you,” she says, tears welling in her eyes as she tries to catch my gaze. Originally it was a united front to save my soul, but now it is whittled down to one remaining person as I succeeded in pushing everyone else away.
    I look down at my feet and pick at a loose thread on my pants. 
    Yeah, whatever. Don’t waste your time. I don’t belong, I never belonged.  I am unlovable,” I mumble, trying to convince myself of what I was saying. 
    Over the past month, I have felt like a mere shadow of what I had become, a remnant of the times I truly began to live. It was two years of living a completely different life but it is  surprising how quickly darkness sets on the city when skyscrapers of pain block the sun. 
    She sets the bible down on the table and silently gets up and walks away. The door whispers closed behind her.
    I place the needles on top of the bible and set about heating up the juice.

    It is time to meet the creator.

  6. […] Creative Copy Challenge #248 […]

  7. Sean Murphy says:

    Continued from last week:
    The air felt deliriously hot. He was closer to the sun than he’d ever been, he thought drowsily, even as he knew it to be a foolish explanation. The city was spread out below them, and beyond it, desert spread out to unite with the blue horizon. “You were right,” he said, then raised his voice to be heard over the rush of wind and fire, “it really does look like a map down here.”
    She nodded agreement, leaning over the stitched edge of the basket to get a better look. “I can never get tired of this view. You still find it special, right Larry?” She turned to address her pilot friend. Leon hadn’t spoken to him, she doing all the sweet-talking to get them up here. The only thing he’d got from the pilot so far was a speculative look between the two of them. He appreciated that it hadn’t seemed protective. The last thing he needed right now was someone telling tales to an angry boyfriend.
    “Why do you think I own a balloon, sweetheart?” The older man replied. “Nothing like the feeling of knowing you can cast off solid ground at any time and come up for this view.” He smiled, eyes glazing as he retreated into memory, “I always was glad I convinced my wife I belonged in one of these more than a motor home when I retired.”
    A comfortable quiet descended on the balloon as Larry gazed into the distance, the roaring of wind filling Leon’s ears. He leaned over to his companion, sharing her view. “Which one’s yours?” he asked, pointing to the rows of tiny houses below. She seemed surprised by the question, but smiled warmly at him as she pointed to a block of tiled rooves not too far east of the balloon field. “I live in the middle of that street,” she yelled over the wind, then paused, smile crooking up the left side of her mouth “It’s the one with the blue door.” He looked where she was pointing, only rooves and trees visible, and laughed. “Funny.”
    The houses seemed to be getting a little bigger, and he realised they were descending, the flames dimming as the juice slacked off. “You should come over and see it, if you’re staying in town long. The house, I mean, not just the door” He looked over to her, noticing her eyes were averted. Embarrassed, or still enjoying the view?
    “Are you sure?” he asked, “I mean, for all you know, I’m a serial killer.” He said it jokingly, a shadow crossing his heart as he wondered if he was tempting fate by voicing his secrets. Did killers get to enjoy southern hospitality with sweet small town girls?
    She rolled her eyes, his joke dissipating any unseen tension between them. “Yeah, right. I’ll give you the address on the ground. Maybe I can show you around some of that map.”
    “It’d be a shame to waste an offer like that.” he admitted as they slowed towards solid ground. “I was planning to stay in Albequerque for a few days,” he lied, “I’d love to see whatever you think is worth seeing.”
    She nodded like it was a certainty, and then there was silence as the burners roared to slow their final descent. They thanked the pilot, climbing out of the basket as he worked to tie the balloon down, deftly moving around its edges. Leon felt like he was going to pass out – the sun was now high in the sky, and it had been hundreds of miles and a lifetime since he’d slept. It was a relief when she begged off apologetically to meet her “friend.” He promised to call her tomorrow, then strolled off towards the rest of the festival, careful making sure she wasn’t watching before he changed direction and bee lined back to the city, determined to find the nearest motel.

    • Sean, this is so good. I wish it were easier to flip back through the earlier entries. You know, we should all get Evernote accounts and share our posts. 🙂
      Or, you could just write a book. LOL

      • Sean Murphy says:

        Mitch, I agree, it would be great if it were easier to link past posts – maybe if you could click on someone’s name and see a history of their CCC posts! Or something like evernote would be great too. I like to use the CCC entries to build on a story enough through the weeks that it gains critical mass and I can try to turn it into something longer (maybe a novel!) so mine tend to rely a lot on previous posts.

  8. Liss Thomas says:

    Dark shadow loomed across the city, a wasted haven to unite the undead and a place where human, live in peril, do not belong.  One plant blooms, it’s juice the soul source of vaccine, if you will, against the non-breathers.  Deep down inside a bio luminous cave, safe from the dark, safe from the living, undead, whatever… Oh yeah, that’s where I live…

  9. Bobbert says:


    “City Waste Workers Unite to Vote Down Shadow Management Teams” That was the headline story of the day, and the live news coverage was airing interviews with the crowd of excited workers.
    One worker took a moment away from the celebration to answer a question from the reporter. “The new contract proposal would have let management do whatever they want, even spying on workers trying to do their jobs. Yeah, that’s right.  They’re trying to go where they don’t belong, and who knows what might have happened to them. Accidentally, of course.”
    The crowd dispersed. Some of the men gathered for their weekly baseball game. Others did charity work downtown. A couple of them were late to the soup kitchen. Some of the local bars filled as well. 
    A member of the defeated management team walked around the park where the protest had been held. He stepped on a discarded bottle of orange juice as he tried to navigate all the trash. “This is the group we are supposed to trust to keep our city clean?“ he thought to himself, and walked next door to his room at the Hilton.

    Let me add a quick footnote here. This story is not meant to be any kind of social or political statement. It’s just a snapshot of what some people with very different and not so mature perspectives might have. If you try to conclude something about my own social or political views, you would probably be surprised to hear my opinions. And I certainly hope I don’t offend anyone – if there are any accidental analogies to a real life situation, it is purely coincidence.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Bobbert: You’re on a roll, man! Another fine submission. And no worries on any political angle. You can say whatever the bleep you want in this place. As long as people don’t attack other people in the CCC, they can run wild. I’ve always said this place is to let loose and write WHATEVER crushes writer’s block. If that means political submissions, so be it.
      Write on!

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