Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #263

This is a writing prompt. Bet you can’t do it! Take the 10 random words below and crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story! And remember: after (if) you finish entering your submission into the comment field, 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. Chase
  2. Well
  3. Gold
  4. Companion
  5. Control
  6. Quarter
  7. Woke
  8. Float
  9. Remember
  10. Direct

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.)

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Resources you should check out:
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there

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52 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #263”

  1. K says:

    I tried to keep it as short as I could.

    Coming into close quarters with a car, Jake barreled to the left in the nick of time before being flattened into roadkill. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, and pain erupted in his right leg from an earlier encounter. Despite his fatigue, Jake remembered fully well that the path he embarked on involved a chase, and he dove into an alleyway. Countless corners were rounded until the corridors directed him to a dead end. A sigh released from his lips as he stumbled toward a wall. His knees collapsed under his weight, and he slumped against the wall. Jake stared up at the night sky glittering with a sea of stars. They provided a feeble light that sufficed. His thoughts floated to contrivances for tomorrow. Jake acknowledged he constantly had to be on the move, but now, recuperating for at least a night was of utmost importance in his condition. But the longer he remained idle, the faster they would catch up to him. Jake shut his eyes and allowed the satiating darkness to control his scrambled thoughts. 

    Before drifting off completely, a gold beacon of light invaded his sight, and he woke with a start. Jake squinted at the source of it. Two austere faces glared down at him. Although no word were exchanged, their intentions rang out loud and clear. Jake staggered to his feet while his mind churned with any ideas of escaping. He stood stationary for a moment before slipping around them and breaking off into a dash. A stream of profanities streamed from the man’s mouth as the strip of light bobbed around aimlessly, seeking Jake’s presence. Keeping a close eye on the proximity of the illumination, Jake accelerated his pace. Adrenaline pumped in his bloodstream.

    For weeks, his shadow followed him, acting as his only companion. Now, two familiar beings accosted him with that accursed light. It was the light calling him home.

  2. Akira says:

    Wooooaaaaahhhh……………..dude….just…..woah….

  3. Liss Thomas says:

    Allie gripped the ropes strapped around her mount.  Dressed in a cloak, like her troll companion, they tore through the frozen wasteland.  The small hut lay in smoking ashes behind them.  The chase started early, well before the sun’s golden beams shone over the foreign landscape.

    The troll sped them in a direct path across the barren terrain until dead trees gave way to greener and larger ones.  He’d told her of the strange creatures, now in pursuit of them both.  Deformed and grotesque and unable to remember their true form, they loped at an incredible speed behind them with an ugly gait.

    Their mount, the small dog sized lizard, now much larger, seemed to float along the ground rather than run.  The trees grew denser a quarter mile ahead.  With agile control, the beast leapt for a large tree and scaled it with ease.  The creatures below groped and clawed the bark but could not climb.  Allie kept her head low and eyes shut as they leapt from tree to tree, escaping for now but she hoped she’d wake from the nightmare soon.

  4. As he suspected, George was stuck in heavy traffic. He berated himself for wasting the whole weekend with his “companion“, Sarah Buffington. Then, as the traffic crawled along Massachusetts Parkway, he began to remember the scenes. George calmed down, a stupid grin plastered on his stubbled face as replays floated across his lizard brain. So what if he had woken too late to make his class. Her skirt had elicited a Pavlovian control response – he had to chase her, didn’t he?

    It was quarter past ten when George pulled into “Sex Money Greed”, Boston University’s School of Management. He debated skipping the class altogether – his next class wasn’t until two o’clock, he could spend almost three hours in the library. Prudence won and he slipped into the back of Professor Gold’s classroom. The man was rambling on – already, half the class seemed to be catatonic.

    “Mr. Lansing, so glad you could join us!” Professor Gold sniped at his favorite student. “We were just getting into CGE modeling of Colonial America. Care to make an assertion?”

    George grinned. Gold was lobbing a softball at him. He took a seat and cleared his throat. “The main challenges to accurately modeling the macroeconomic climate of any society for which we lack sufficient empirical data include proper evaluation of the money system, tracking the labor pool and assessing the perception of household decision-making.”

    Professor Gold smiled back. “And, specifically, what challenges do we face with Colonial America?”

    “Slaves, expatriated crooks and contumacious landowners.” George ticked off his points by holding up his fingers. “Slave labor skews the valuation of the money system. The mass emigration of criminal elements skew the census upon which we attempt to make a direct correlation between population and labor pool. The landowners had household needs that were obviously different than those of the working class.”

    Professor Gold held up his own finger as a cautionary gesture. “What does landownership have to do with household need? Macroeconomics does not concern itself with individuals, only the aggregate.

    Homerun. George raised his voice in response, “Everything! We all know that Colonial America was not a place for democracy. Quite the opposite! For the most part, only White male property owners over the age of 21 could vote. Naturally, it was their interests that shaped the macroeconomic climate of that period.”

    Well, Mr. Lansing, I’d better stop badgering you or you won’t have anything left for your paper. You are absolutely correct and I expect you to follow through with a concrete example.” Professor Gold winked at George and continued his monologue.

    George leaned back. A bit of euphoria washed over him as he contemplated the direction of his research, as guided by his mentor.

  5. Shane Arthur says:

    programming note: I’m sick. I’ll catch up on comments soon as I can. Write on.

  6. Cathy Miller says:

    If I could but chase the dream, all would be well.

    Gold would be my companion as I control my destiny. 

    Dare I quarter the need inside so I might capture it all?

    If I woke tomorrow and all was gone, would hope simply float away?

    Would I remember what it was like when all I knew was in my direct sight to see?

  7. Rebecca says:

    @ Cathy… That was thought provoking.

  8. Rebecca says:

    “One morning I woke up and was plunged into psychological shock. I had forgotten I was free.” ~ Jack Henry Abbott
     
    Do you float through your life or are you and your spirit companion in control?
    Remember, there’s a higher power, a force who’ll direct your steps.
    Take stock of your life each and every quarter.
    Go for the gold and chase your dreams, but don’t choke them.
    If you hang on tightly, you’ll become ill instead of well.
     
     
     

  9. Akira says:

     
    “Don’t you ever get tired of the chase, Stephen?” The woman said, rubbing her thin hand up his arm to his shoulder, “Don’t you remember when we met? When you threw your last quarter in the well, and wished for a pretty girl who’d love you nomatter what.”
    “Don’t even start, Harley.” The man replied, fighting against her cherry red lips, and half-lidded eyes, “You’re fightin’ too hard for control you aint got, and it’s long since time you called it quits. Gold don’t float, sweetheart, I gotta go searchin’ for it if I ever want to be happy again.”
    “Oh, Stephen. Don’t leave me.”
    “Save your breath, woman. For all I know, a week from today I could end up woken up buck nekkid in the mid’le of the desert, and you run off with all I have left.” He turned to leave, “Well? You gonna deny it?”
    Harley said nothing. Her only companion walked out.
    “THAT’S A WRAP!!” The director called, “Brilliant!”

    • K says:

      Man, I hate when the story ends up being a scene in a movie/play or a dream sequence. I’m so gullible! But the way you wrote it was amazing! I was drawn into it.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Akira: Haha. That ending totally punked me. Well done.

  10. Akira says:

    Oh. Sorry. Oh, well. I was trying to make one of those old movie scenes.

  11. Rebecca says:

    @ Cathy… Lol! And… Thank you.

    @ Mitch… Yes, a cautionary message, indeed. Now, if I can only get my teen niece and nephew to read it. 

  12. Shane Arthur says:

    The chase went well. I got the gold and a new companion who appears to control three-quarters of her days with kinky sex prescriptions. Woke up with her again this morning, floating on air, remembering how direct her orders to enter were.

  13. Lynne says:

    Philippe woke to the staccato of rain and a sense of impending doom. Shrugging off the disquieting feeling, he settled back against cloud-soft pillows, closed his eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to return to sleep. Behind his closed eyes, something elusive lurked in his consciousness. Then, he moved his leg.

    A woman, gorgeous in her nakedness, lay very still on her back on the other side of the bed. Moving quietly to avoid disturbing her, Philippe rounded the bed and, perching on a seat placed conveniently near the bedside, watched her sleep. He hoped like hell she would wake soon and leave; the last thing he wanted, on his first day of work in the French Quarter, was to be discovered with an unknown woman in his hotel room. He tried, but couldn’t remember her name.

    “C’est la vie”, he whispered, shrugging to himself.

    Glimpses of the night’s activities came to mind – her gold-flecked eyes glistening as she sidled up to him at the bar, her low-necked, blue dress gaping as she leaned towards him.

    “You look lonely,” she whispered breathily in his ear, “I can chase your loneliness away. Let me be your companion tonight.”
    And he was, so he did.

    As night turned into day and darkness fled the room, Philippe noticed that the woman’s eyes were open, her direct gaze seemingly fixed on the ornate plaster ceiling.

    “Merde!” Philippe cursed as he leapt up, eyes wide with shock.

    “Ah, mon Dieu!” She was dead. Dead, in his bed.

    Dressing quickly, Philippe raced around the room gathering the things he would need. He had less than an hour before reporting for work. After bundling the body tightly in his bed sheets, Philippe slung it over his shoulder and cautiously opened the door. Four minutes later, he had made it out, undetected, into the alley behind the old hotel. He knew the area well and traversed it, quietly, in the shadows of the early morn. Fifteen minutes later, under a lowering sky, Philippe deposited his burden into the murky waters of the Mississippi river. Nobody was around. Nobody witnessed his deed.

    “Au revoir, Madame,” he murmured as he watched the body float away from shore, then slowly sink under the weight of the sodden rope-tied sheets.

    Glancing at his watch, Philippe realized he had little time to spare before reporting for duty.

    “Make haste slowly,” he reminded himself, fighting to get his breathing under control.

    Five minutes before his shift started, Philippe, freshly dressed and smart in his new uniform, faced the maître-d’hôtel.

    “We are so pleased to have you with us, Philippe,” said the maître-d’, beaming his pleasure, “It’s a sad day when hotels, such as ours, need to employ extra security to keep their guests safe…”

    Philippe nodded impassively.

    “…But, with you around, we will be able to reassure our guests. I’m sure you agree that the sooner the sheriff catches that erotic asphyxia fiend, the better.”

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Lynne: I could read this story all day. I guess I’ll just wait for the book. 😉

      • Lynne says:

        Thanks, but you will be waiting a long time since I’m not into writing crime or mysteries. I don’t think I am anyway 😉

  14. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane… Thank you! I couldn’t believe it when I found “woke” in a quote. It’s a good quote too.


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