Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #249

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. Victim
  2. Impervious
  3. Position
  4. Check
  5. Burn
  6. Quick
  7. Clean
  8. Silk
  9. Run
  10. Sharp

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 #249”

  1. Cathy Miller says:

    Martina was never one to play the victim. All her life she was impervious to the naysayers who told her she couldn’t do something because she was too young, too female or otherwise limited.

    So how did she find herself in this position? Strapped to a metal pipe in a dark, rancid hole of God knows where, it was all she could do to keep her nerves in check.

    Her wrists felt the burn from her restraints, rubbed raw from her futile efforts at a quick escape. Time knew no measure here, but Martina sensed her destiny would not come quickly. Once more she wiped clean all thought of despair as the captive pipe shed silk tears of moisture to run down her arm in an aimless journey. 

    Why? Why was she here? Every instinct told her to run. To leave this place, no matter the cost. No matter how sharp the loss.

  2. Liss Thomas says:

    Continuation . . .

    The scream of another victim rings sharp in my ears.  It’s hard to be impervious to their pains, my kinsmen.  Their cries burn my resolve to stay hid, safe . . .for now.  I mark the position by sound on my map, seems closer.  It was a quick, clean kill, not much suffering.  I run a check on my experiment, the antidote.  The luminous walls of my cave, provides the light, the cure.  The microbes, smooth as silk that give me light, soon will give light to our kind.  It better work as the light of my cave dims. 

    • Liss, this is so cool. Did you ever smear firefly light on your finger? It is indeed smooth as silk.
      (I know, I was a bad boy…)
      I like the pacing of this story – a little bit each day, simulates the drawn-out situation.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Liss: This is indeed cool as Mitch said. Carry on!

  3. Meredith says:

    Check out the clean cut on that arm,” he said as he looked her over, following his work.
    Rachel sneered back at him and turned away as much as her silk bindings let her. They burned further into her skin as she moved. She was confident one of her runs would be successful, but meanwhile she needed to be impervious to pain. She would not be called a victim, that was certain. Suddenly, she felt a sharp twinge in her right arch. Shifting her position allowed her to see the concentration on Dudley’s face as he shredded her feet, not being quick about it. Watching relieved her of fear. For now.

  4. Xavier demanded the best from his students. It wasn’t enough to be quick as a flash. While one might score a few points for being able to control the weather, burn holes through things with one’s eyes or unsheathe sharp, lethal blades from one’s hairy knuckles, the best way to earn a position of respect with Xavier was to be impervious to the insults slung by mere mortals. Xavier could not tolerate the victim label.

    Magneto, on the other hand, preferred to mentor those exhibiting a certain smooth-as-silk psychopathic sangfroid. One could run with whatever skill set was conferred by the variegated X-gene, as long as one was able to execute a clean kill, on command.

    Neither hero nor anti-hero understood that it was Stan Lee whose signature was on the check that kept their paracosms alive.

  5. Liss Thomas says:

    Awesome Mitch, very cool ‘X’ Factor!

  6. My entry for this one:

    Black Ops
    Mission objective
    rescue the
    the evidence
    His nerves
    with a
    position check
    followed by a
    quick run
    A once impervious
    silk under fire
    woman rescued
    mission successful 

  7. sh13151223 says:

    Not sharp enough to cut this silk,
    not hot enough to burn this sheet;
    your position is victim to cynicism,
     impervious to this soft blanket,
    you may check-mate this clean aura,
    you are quick witted and may run the world,
    but you can’t take this aura from me,
    this blanket of truth and love .

  8. I bound up the back steps quick as I can, taking them two at a time. I know I am late for dinner and still have to clean up. I fear becoming victim to his anger. Grammy still wears the black bruises tapering to brown and green at the corners of her temple. To me she is a queen cloaked in silks and jewels but to the outside world, she is a common housewife; victim to domestic violence and drowning her misery in a sea of booze. 

    As I open the door, thick black smoke greets me. The wall of death seems impervious and my mind is screaming at me to close the door and run. This is something an adult should deal with, not a ten-year old little girl who is afraid of her own shadow. 

    But I have to check that she is not in there, that she is still alive. I don’t know where Gram is. When I went out to play this morning, she was mumbling as she put the dinner on the stove. Although she tried to position her body to hide the drink on the counter, I could smell its bittersweet odor mixed with the sharp tang of her sweat. The dishes clanged noisily and she shooed me outside into the sunshine and fresh air.

    Please God, don’t let my Grammy burn. Please don’t take her from me. 

  9. […] Creative Copy Challenge 249 […]

  10. Rebecca says:

    Believe it or not, you’re not a victim.
    You haven’t been burned by life.
    The sharp blade of injustice hasn’t cut you to the quick.
    The position you’re in is the result of listening to others and their negative self-talk.
    Run a quick mental tape of your life thus far.
    Don’t be impervious about it.
    Check out how you’re responsible for it all.
    You have the power to clean up your life.
    Your life can be as smooth as silk or as rough as sand paper.
    Are you up for the challenge?

  11. Rebecca says:

    @ Liss .. Thanks … Glad you liked it! 

  12. Shane Arthur says:

    Another quick freestyle from me. As one who edits, I find this exercise so freeing.

    I’m not your victim. I’m impervious to you. I’m in poll position in front of your checks and imbalances. I burn rubber, quick and clean — running silk over your sharp interpersonal projectiles.

  13. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … Loved the freestyle! … And … Glad you’re up for the challenge.

  14. Paul says:

    Mitch and McGregor sipped their drinks like down on their luck drunkards. The bar man looked up from his gossip magazine every couple of minutes to scowl at the odd pair. They noticed the looks – they were professionals – but didn’t care. There was no-one else in the bar, it being ten past ten on a Saturday morning, and the bar tender had enough sense of self-preservation to refrain from making his point more vocally. Mitch chewed his peanuts with an open mouth, hoping the sight of the semi-masticated brown mush would goad the man still further. The bar man was short-sighted and too vain to wear glasses, so Mitch’s effort was wasted.

    ‘It needs to be quick and clean, McGregor,’ Mitch crunched through a mouthful of salted peanuts. ‘We can deal with the fallout later.’

    McGregor was the silent type. His face was blank and smooth, impervious to the traces of emotion that infected other men. Black silk-shine hair combed into a neat side-parting completed the look of a fifties movie star. Mitch was never sure if this was in an intentional styling or chance, but McGregor rarely talked about his appearance so he had never been asked. Mitch was saving it for an “I’ve always wanted to ask..” moment, probably whilst they died in a puddle of gore and giblets.

    ‘Victim?’ growled McGregor, raw gravel ruining the silver screen patina.

    A quick check showed the barman engrossed in a glossy, no doubt hyperbolic, celebrity tale. He was nothing to worry about. ‘Micky McGowan.’

    McGregor grunted acknowledgement and sandblasted a statement, ‘He’s sharp and he won’t run.’

    Mitch knew he wasn’t scared or worried. He was analysing the position and stating the facts.

    McGregor thought for a moment longer. ‘We’ll have to burn him.’

    Mitch drained the dregs of his drink and burped noisily, unfortunately bringing an odd peanut-beer taste to his mouth. He made a face, but saw McGregor watching and manned-up.

    ‘Come on, we’d better get going.’

    ‘No time like the present,’ agreed McGregor. He left an inch of beer in his glass, crushed a peanut into it. Mitch imagined a smile. A small one, to be sure.

  15. Bobbert says:

    My single goal for this story was to make it as short as possible. I guess I want to figure out what’s at the very core of a story, and I’m hoping that trying to get a satisfying story in few words might reveal what matters. We’ll see. Anyway, here’s my stab at this list… it’s clearly much harder to write good short short stories than longer short stories. 


    Steve was horrified to see the tomato sauce on his nice new white silk tablecloth. “I can’t let Ellen see this.” He ran quickly over to the kitchen sink to grab a clean towel. As he tried to lower it into a stream of water under the faucet, he was impervious to the sharp knife sticking out from below. Jumping to the side, he put his hand down – on the hot burner of his stove. He positioned it in front of his eyes to check how badly the blood was dripping from his hand and decided to wrap it up in the towel. He grabbed his keys and rushed toward the urgent care facility. It wasn’t bleeding too badly, but he would need stitches. And his girlfriend was coming for dinner in a few hours.
    As he turned a tight corner on the road, he sneezed. Due to his hand injury, the wheel slipped from his control. Before he could do anything about it, he was a fatality victim, having driven off the edge of the road into a ravine. The car wouldn’t be found for years.
     Ellen, Steve’s girlfriend, arrived and walked into the house. Not finding Steve, she sat down to eat by herself. As she gobbled down his meal, she thought “He’s so inconsiderate. And look at that ugly tomato stain in the silk table cloth. Why did he have to go buy it, anyway? I told him that he’d be sorry.”

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