Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #281

Today’s words are brought to you by Lisa Bulman Taylor. Lisa is a freelance designer, and illustrator who spends every other possible minute writing. Be creative and have fun!

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’Tdo those, either.)

  1. Risk
  2. Worship
  3. Hide
  4. Task
  5. Rebellion
  6. Reveal
  7. Ignite
  8. Hall
  9. Transmission
  10. Table

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.)

45 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #281”

  1. It was worth the risk. Who could fault me for the transmission of these sins? I paced the worship hall for what seemed like days, counting one communion table after another like prayer beads on the rosary. What if they already knew? I couldn’t hide my rebellion any longer, but the thought of having to reveal my secret could ignite the congregation to take me to task for my blasphemy. The only comfort I sought was prayer and forgiveness.

  2. The hall clock chimed. I was ready. I could no longer hide the signals of the coming rebellion. Before this day ended, I would control all of North America. Soon, everyone would worship at the altar of the red cannon.

    My friends were too busy with the task of securing the strategic Middle East to pay attention to the painfully transparent transmission of troops through Central America. When the time came to reveal my plan, I would ignite the table with thunderous rolls of capricious dice, decimating the enemy on my final Blitzkrieg.

    “Hey, you kids. It’s getting late. Time to wrap it up.”

    “Okay, Ma. Let me get this last turn in, okay?”

    “No! I told y’all not to start another game of RISK after dinner!”

  3. Liss Thomas says:

    I will the old Pontiac’s engine to ignite but the transmission is gone.  Her last voyage has left me to walk a lone stretch of road cocooned by overgrown trees.  I sit for hours hoping for another passing traveler but my rebellion against the inevitable only confirms my suspicions.  I am alone.  Resigning myself to the task at hand, I risk leaving the relative safety of old Bessie and trudge toward the town ahead.  The sign states, Sleepy Meadows, 5 miles.  Sounds cozy.  I jog down the road, dying flashlight in hand while creatures of the woods scurry about and snap branches just to make me jump.  A baleful cry rises and I’m spooked.  I’ve never been a jogger but my imagination instructs my feet to go faster until I crest a hill and see the little town sparkling with warming lights. 

    As I enter Sleepy Meadows, I hear soft music and feel the glow of fireplaces.  The light and sounds draw me to a motel and tavern.  I dream of sitting at a table with a cool drink and warm meal with the prospects of a cozy bed to sleep in.  The sound of steps behind push me to a dead run.  The music rises as I push through the door, a quick glance behind reveals nothing.  Turning back, I see no one at the counter.  I follow the music down the hall and notice the small tavern.  I enter and walk towards the bar.  As I pass tables, it appears the patrons seemed to be bowing their heads in worship. I see more patrons, their heads bent low.  No one is moving, or talking.  The bartender is slumped against the bar, not moving but not dead.  Sleeping.  They’re all sleeping.  Panic floods my mind but I can’t run or hide.  Fatigue forces me onto a bar stool as I look at the sleeping people.  Meals half eaten and moldy left on the tables.  Sticky spilled drinks stain the once white table clothes.  The music changes and begins to soothe, a lullaby with no name.  My head swoons and finds its way to the bar top.  Footsteps sound behind me and a voice rises and sings along …  ” Go to sleep, little baby….”

  4. Beautifully spooky. So was Sleepy Meadows real or just a dream?

  5. Here is my entry today:

    Hide the task at hand
    reveal the truth to masses
    with this transmission you hold
    ignite riot and risk worship
    this rebellion starts here
    from under this table
    down the hall 

  6. Briony Coote says:

    Jacques banged his fist on the table. “No! It’s too risky!”

    But Henri just smiled and patted his brand new invention. “It’s the best chance we’ve got to get rid of those blasted Krauts. Trust me, Jacques.”

    Their best chance…Jacques had to admit that last invention of Henri’s was the answer to their prayers on how to stop the Krauts’ radar detecting their tell-tale radio transmissions that could reveal their hideouts. But this was a step too far, Jacques thought.

    Henri’s idea was to disguise themselves as workmen, take this new-fangled device of Jacques’ right into the main hall of Gestapo headquarters and take advantage of doing some repairs that the Krauts wanted to hide the device. And then, when they were out of there – or if they were unlucky and got caught – they could use this remote control Jacques had invented to ignite the fuse from a distance – and BOOM!


    Henri wouldn’t be put off. “So what if it’s risky? It’s all part of the job, isn’t it?”

    Jacques frowned. Sometimes I think you worship taking risks – you’re always taking them and don’t give a shit about could happen! He shook his head again. No! And that was final.

    Henri shrugged, picked up his device and left the room. Outside the door, his face steeled with a look of rebellion. He wasn’t known as a great big risk taker for nothing – if Jacques wouldn’t go along with it, then he would do it himself! And with that thought he marched off to get himself and his device ready for their very special task at Gestapo Headquarters.

  7. Calli says:

    I never show my face to anyone anymore since my parents died, I wear a black hood that covers my eyes. I hide in the shadows of the street lights at night. People look and point judging who I am and what I am.  They say I am doing an act of teenage rebellion, and that I should be ashamed of what I’m becoming. They say I am no longer human but an evil spirit that stole the body of this precious girl. I roll my eyes not caring for their beliefs or them asking who I worship.  They say my task on this Earth was nor from God nor that of the “king of the underworld” but those of a moron.  They say I won’t reveal myself because I’m a vampire or that I am a beast of the night. They say I’m a risk to their kids’ lives and what they might become.
    “This place is no place for an outcast like you!” they scream from a distance to afraid to say it to my face. I smirk thinking that people think I’m a force to be reckoned with. They think I have magic powers that can take their lives in an instant.
    “That’s why your parents are dead!” one drunken loser said and that ignites the fire within me. I reveal my face that shows those of the burns that killed my family. He runs for help and brings back officers who are quick to take me in to the station.
    I stay there sitting in the hall that contains jail bars that try to stop me from escape. Fire burns within me that can’t be doused with anything but my revenge. I lift my hand and melt the bars of the cell and I walk catching everything on fire as I walk pass. The table at which the officer sat blew up into the air and came down in the form of melted metal. I blew the transmission and killed the lights and walked out into the night where I walked, walked for days to a place of no return. The sound of them screams saying, “This place is no place for an outcast like you” made my pace quicken. I can’t tell you where I am for I don’t know where I am but I am still watching that town from a distant and still seek revenge.

  8. “But if we reveal who he really is, then we risk all we have worked for. The rebellion will be brought down in an instant,” said Marcus, “It is just too dangerous. We are just starting to develop transmission with the outside territories. Perhaps they will hear our plight and add to our power.” 

    We had been fighting the war against the Torian government for three long years now. Yet, it seems like every time we gain a foothold, we fall again with massive bloodshed and fatalities. The people of Kantar stand behind our rebels but the Torians consistently make an example of one family after another. Tarred heads line every roadway, staked for all to see which family has been found harbouring traitors. Feeding tables go empty in every home as government militia shut down the supply to grain and slaughters our animals. Women are raped in the streets, left bleeding and ripped barren. After my sweet Maria was left dead amongst the sows, I swore I would have revenge. I would complete any assignment asked of me to bring down the officials if it were my last dying breath. And this very well could be that task.

    The man Marcus is talking about is a mystery. No one knows where he came from or how he arrived. He had no name, he simply walked out of the desert, naked as the day he was born. That is if he was even born. There is talk about him arriving from the heavens, a god come to defeat the invincible ruthless government that enslaves our people. Heaven knows we could use a saviour. From the first day he healed a child left for dead in the gutter, simply by laying his hands on his chest, the whispering amongst the masses began. By the end of one turn of the moon, people were coming to worship him. Just the mere sight of this man we call Godan can ignite a celebration or a riot. Yet, he seems to fear no one, neither rebel, the people, nor the government. While we hide like rats in a sinking ship, he walks in the light. 

    “How can we reveal something we don’t even understand? We do not even know if Godan is truly for or against us,” Damien replies, “For all we know, he could be a devil brought forth by the government pharisees.” 

    Unable to contain myself any longer, I speak up. “He must die. I will do it.” The hall of sixteen rebel leaders, hand-picked for their abilities and their clout, erupts in chaos. Each tries to speak over each other in an attempt to be heard. Standing tall, Tyson bangs his gavel on the table and raises his hands in the air, silencing the crowd. He turns to me and nods, “Speak.”

    I swallow my fear, its coppery taste sliding down the back of my throat, and reply, “If he is a god, he will not die from mere mortal wounding. It will prove to the people that this is who we must turn to and it shall cause the officials to quake in their beds. If he does die, then we know we have been led astray. We regroup and strike the government at their heart. We systematically take down the tax collectors, the militia and their pharisees from the inside.”

    Suddenly, Marcus shrieks, knocking his goblet away from him, its contents staining the linen beneath. “The wine. The wine has been turned to blood!” he yells, “What sorcery is this?!” 

    The door to the hall swings open, a chilled air sweeping through the room. Silence falls. The lone figure in the doorway is Godan. 

    He speaks, “Drink up brothers. Blood is what you seek, so blood you shall have.”

  9. […] Creative Copy Challenge 281 […]

  10. K says:

    Risk everything you have to gain something better.
    Worship those who seek the truth.
    Hide and slip behind the shadows of transgression and grab the perpetrators by their tails grown by their superficial lies.
    The task given to you by a likely adversary proves to be your only lifeline thrust onto your shoulders to burden by the world.
    Intimations of rebellion sing throughout the provinces as the plumage of flames devour the cities wrought by the same type of darkness.

    Reveal the hidden agenda constrained into obscurity by the Sovereign, and bring light once again upon this land.
    Ignite the people’s emotions. Have them experience the crimes forced upon the innocent whose lives are taken faster than a bullet.
    Traverse these hallowed halls they threw you into, expecting you die in the big finale. Your death was for the greater good. Come back stronger to prove your worth.
    The transmission for your arrival comes too slow. You’ve already pierced through their defenses.
    Turn the tables on those who threaten this land you call home. Dare to challenge those who question your existence.

  11. McLeod had ignited a rebellion when he stood on the table in the great hall during and challenged the Bishop to let the people worship as they please. He now risked his brother’s life by tasking him with a transmission of  the battle plans to deliver to MacDonald while he hide, laying in wait for the day of battle. If his brother were to be caught by the Bishop’s men and their plan revealed, any hope for freedom would be lost. His only hope rested on a boy of fourteen summers. God help them all.

  12. […] Copy Cat Challenge 281 Share this:TwitterFacebookLike this:LikeBe the first to like this. This entry was posted in Uncategorized.Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment […]

  13. zennjenn, I was intrigued by this opening chapter. By any chance, is this based on the clan societies of Scotland?




    • Jennifer says:

      Mitch Allen-Yes, totally fictionalized, but based on the Scottish clans. That’s what you get when I start mixing ancestry research with creative writing 🙂

  14. Anthony Smits says:

    words in order…

    A tug to the sticking window freed it; the sash slid down. He turned the brass to latch out the mob. Their noise and blood on the marble, a floor below, had become intrusive. Another season’s oak leaf buds stretched life towards the glass on dancing fingers in the wind. He didn’t see them. Man’s short season mattered more. 
    “Avoid risk, your Worship. Hide here until the task is finished. Our rebellion will surely succeed soon. Then reveal yourself.”
    “Cower here afraid? No. We will go to the hall.  I must ignite their belief again before it dies for good like an untended fire. And damn the General’s transmission.” 
    Decision made, he tossed the paper to the table and left it in the sunlight’s shaft of tumbling dust. As their footsteps faded, the black sentence stared upwards, mute. 

  15. Standing at the foot of the stairs I shook my head in disbelief. Precisely 8 steps in front of me are a set of wooden doors than seemed to reach the sky. I can’t believe I’m standing at the steps to the last place I’d ever be but Clifford’s transmission was demanding and to the point. “Enough with your rebellion, get yourself to holy ground.” That one request of me was enough to ignite what was left of my desire to live.
    Climbing the steps, pausing with my hand upon the wrought iron handle I bristled at the task at hand, to enter into a holy hall after the way it ended so many years ago. This was the last place I wanted to be, the last place I ever wanted to see but it was Clifford’s dying plea, to save me from myself.
    Pulling the heavy door ajar the melodic wave of worship music pushed the air from my lungs, my head swam and my knees began to wobble. Decades had passed and nothing seemed to have changed, the sounds, the smells, the table ablaze with candles, the burning desire to run and hide, all returned in an instant.
    Suddenly a man gripped my elbow and asked me if I was alright, concern made his elderly frame swift as he guided me to an empty spot in the closest pew. I had risked everything to stay away from here including but not exclusive to my own life. On the edge of fainting, my heart pounding, my palms soaked with sweat I waited for that one person to recognize me and reveal to all exactly who and what I was.

  16. DR says:

    *I try to keep the Theater Duo story going, from one random idea to the next.*

    Alright, I just have a few more questions for you.

    Fine I say. I have nothing to hide.

    I sat quietly at the table on an old metal chair. Certainly not the world’s most relaxing chair, but I’m sure that’s the point.

    The officer asks me his questions – the usual generic kind. Where was I this night? Who was I with last? Can I identify this guy? Did I have a task or errand to run perhaps?

    I didn’t reveal much except that I’m an old man just trying to finish up the rest of life by living it.

    If I find out you’re lying… He paused. His voice lowered. You’re taking a risk here you know? You worship all the wrong people.

    Not my friends, he scolds me like a father to his son. Something about rebellion and causing mayhem. I just sit there patiently with a gentle elderly expression.

    But I’m not listening. I’m thinking of my soft leather chair with the over-sized cushions waiting for me back home.

    We done here?

    He nods his head and tells me I’m free to go. I know he tried to ignite something in me, but it’s too cold in there. My body didn’t respond.

    I walk down the dilapidated hall where a couple officers hung around, bored. I step into the dark of night to see my driver pulling up to the curb. Perfect timing. He does that. As I sit down I pull out my phone. Only it’s not my phone. Instead the device is something I concocted myself.

    As I left the police station, I used it for the transmission of certain information, as I walked by the officers’ phones and computers.

    Where to, my driver asked.

    The movie theater. I’m meeting a friend for a late night film.

  17. K Beach says:

    I didn’t know if burden of my grief should be heard in the transmission. The task had been to attempt to hide my humanity and leave every ounce of pain on the table in the hall with my bag. Somewhere between airlock doors one and two, a kind of rebellion took hold of me and began to ignite rather than extinguish my outrage. Why could I not risk this one time and reveal that I know the truth of who really is behind this hideous crime? As I pushed the button to turn on the microphone, one solitary tear rolled down my cheek and I could not help but worship at the alter of the red light that forever says “be everything to everyone and become who you are when you are live”. It was gone for now down into the deepest place, where all truths lay unprocessed in endless filing cabinets of memory.

    • K Beach says:

      Sincere apologies for the lack of bold here. Something went awry in the posting and I am not sure how to change this for you.

      • Love your contribution to the CCC. Welcome.

        No need to apologize. I can’t even remember which plugin we were using at our old site that added the formatting toolbar to the comment box. I’ll have to look into that.

  18. K Beach says:

    Thank you. I opened a notepad text document in wordpad and used bold there, but it was lost in posting.

  19. This is a test comment.

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