Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #282

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.) NOTE: Our bolding plugin is gone, so you’ll have to put <b> and </b> around each of your words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH.

  1. Think
  2. Huddle
  3. Mind
  4. Pure
  5. Break
  6. Show
  7. True
  8. Silent
  9. Nothing
  10. Previous

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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62 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #282”

  1. Welcome back, CCC!!!

    CCC, we think is invincible as words huddle in its mind. The pure joy CCC brings overcomes any break in our supply as we show the nasty hackers, you may slow us down, but you will now see the true strength of a community tied together.

    We are silent no more and nothing will stand in our way. Previous problems behind us, CCC lives on in all of our hearts! Yay!!! Welcome back!

  2. Ack fix my html for true, please. 😉

  3. K Beach says:

    We were an unusually quiet and edgy cluster of friends that evening. Trying to huddle together in the snow and not think about the cold as we waited in the silent park. We had come through the break in the thin row of trees from the road, and all that was left to show of our careful efffort, was a line of footprints in the thick nap of pure new snow on the ground behind us.

    The wait was exhausting but we soon heard him coming along the path, his footsteps cracking on the ice under the snow. We gave him little time to react or plan a next move. We were swift and true in our effort to arrest his mind with the shock of what was happening. Nothing previous to this moment would have given him any indication that we were watching and waiting to stop his secret violent spree.

  4. You’re back!! OMG… you’re back!! ::pounces like Tigger and knocks Shane over:: Sorry… missed you. 😉

  5. @K: You can bold your words; it’s just a pain. You have to surround each word with the <b> and </b> tags

    We used to have a plugin that added a formatting bar to the comment box, but wordpress.com doesn’t allow any plugins for security reasons.

    • Here’s a half-baked solution for you: Use Windows Live Writer (or even compose in your own WordPress dashboard). Use bold or italics – don’t get carried away with other formatting options that may be unsupported in comments. Flip over to the HTML tab. Copy, then come here and paste.

      Sounds complicated but really isn’t – took me more time to write than than it does to DO it.

      • @Holly, clever! I was thinking of writing a Boldinator for my laptop 🙂 I’m going to at least try, anyway, but meanwhile, I just use an autotext thingy that changes #b to the tags, so that all I have to do is type the word inside. That seriously breaks my train of thought, though!

        Cheers,

        Mitch

  6. K Beach says:

    Test repost:
    We were an unusually quiet and edgy cluster of friends that evening. Trying to huddle together in the snow and not think about the cold as we waited in the silent park. We had come through the break in the thin row of trees from the road, and all that was left to show of our careful efffort, was a line of footprints in the thick nap of pure new snow on the ground behind us.

    The wait was exhausting but we soon heard him coming along the path, his footsteps cracking on the ice under the snow. We gave him little time to react or plan a next move. We were swift and true in our effort to arrest his mind with the shock of what was happening. Nothing previous to this moment would have given him any indication that we were watching and waiting to stop his secret violent spree.

  7. If you think I was silent for quite a while,
    I just took a break for a mental mile.
    My schedule was hectic, my mind was a muddle.
    I had to regroup, creative thoughts in a huddle.
    My previous two hundred posts were all in a row,
    my mind became tired, with not much to show.
    I return with pure joy….believe me it’s true.
    Have you missed me?, ….because I’ve missed you. 🙂

  8. Liss Thomas says:

    Oh boy, oh boy! I’m so excited I could spit! I’ll post my comment in a few. The addiction is back! Smooches Shane!

  9. Liss Thomas says:

    My eyes stare in blank confusion as I huddle in silent solitude. My mind crumbling and shaking along with my limbs. The previous addictions break through leaving pain. Always pain, I think. I try again and again but nothing appears; I weaken. I gasp, close to defeat but push ahead for one more fix. Success. Pure bliss fills my burning brain. The burning subsides, my eyes clearing. A smiles shows on my face, a genuinely true smile…CCC is back!

  10. Troy Worman says:

    The devil is alive and well in Emporia, Kansas: Huddle around, Minions. And put your wee brains to work. Think! Nevermind the smoldering embers. You previous lives are no more. They never were. Pure evil–true genius–often requires the breaking of a will or two. Show me not the weeping and wailing. Rather, usher forth the silent sufferers. Gather them around the pit of lost souls. Nothing pleases me more than to peer into their pained eyes and lap up their sorrow.

  11. […] This week’s words are: Think, Huddle, Mind, Pure, Break, Show, True, Silent, Nothing, Previous. […]

  12. “That’ll be $67.95,” said the cashier. His eyes were stone-cold, boring into mine as if to plant dynamite in my brain. I handed him a hundred, and he slowly counted out the change. I shuddered, but forced my breathing to remain steady – not to let emotion show on my face. Staredown. I knew this man from somewhere. Every nerve ending whispered an electric, “Run!”

    Think, I silently wracked my brain, trying to cut through the fog and jumble of decades-old memories, searching for the connection. It was in there, huddled in a dark corner – I could sense the terror of that memory, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. From the intensity of his gaze, he was doing the same – I don’t know how, but I deep inside I knew that the race was on. The first to remember would break eye contact, abrupt as a starter gun, and it would be a race to the death. One of us, I felt it in my bones, would not be walking out of this store in one piece.

    Recognition flashed for us both in the same second. I heard the gun go off in my mind. “You,” I whispered, as he snarled the same. I pushed away from the counter, but he was lightning fast, like a viper. I yelped like a frightened puppy as his fingers bit into my upper arm. That boring gaze turned to pure, white hot rage. “Please,” I said. “Let me go.”

    “You cost me my job, bitch.”

    It was true; I had cost him his previous job. I’d lit a match, and a town had gone up in flames. No great loss, really, but they couldn’t just wink-wink, nod, and let me off with a warning, now, could they? I had nothing to say in my own defense; my whole world had burned down to ashes months before.

    Six bored dullards, all under the age of fourteen, had held my little brother Frankie down in the dirt road, chopped off his fingers, one by one, then bashed his skull in with a rock. “You know we cannot condone revenge, young lady. It’s God’s place to judge, not yours to take the law into your own hands.” I kept silent while they condemned me to four decades in a steel cage. This man, The Zookeeper, held the key. I was nothing but the featured entertainment in his private freak show.

    I’d cost him his job, all right – by all rights, he should be pacing in a cage of his own – and yet here he was, biding his time with the produce. I’d have bet money he had a thousand creative, sadistic uses for a cucumber. He could make is little freaks beg for death with a carrot. I reached out with my free hand, grabbed a wire snack display, and used his grasp on my arm for leverage as I swung it at his skull. I’d cost him his job, and he’d been my ticket to freedom.

    Now I could be his.

    “Sorry, Warden,” I said softly, dropping the bloodied rack to the floor. Freedom never came without a price.

  13. […] Creative Copy Challenge 282 […]

  14. She lay huddled in the snow while large flakes fell gently around her shoulders threatening to bury her in a premature grave. Her feet were bare and blue from the cold, they seemed to emphasize the fact that she was completely vulnerable. Her footprints were filling in quickly, white mounds erasing the evidence of the staggering trail from the house to where she finally fell and didn’t get back up. Red spots of blood were dispersed along the trail, blossoming to pink. They showed like blooms of poppy on a pure white canvas background.

    “In flanders field the poppies blow, between the crosses…” came instantly to my seven-year old mind. The morbidity of thinking about death did not even cross my mind as I surveyed the situation. I shuddered to think what bones he managed to break this time. A pang of guilt ripped through me as I considered how glad it was not me.

    The pale moon weeped silently in the night air, as if the universe were waiting for my next action. Should I run to either her house or mine and seek help? Nothing in my previous experience showed that anyone was a reliable source of assistance. It was her and I against the world and at this moment, we were on the losing team. If there was a true God, he seemed to be uninterested in saving the lives of a small girl and her grandmother. Perhaps we were unworthy of his love.

    A weak moan broke free from her lips and her eyes fluttered open, coming to focus on me kneeling beside her. Slowly and deliberately, she lifted her hand to wipe the tears from my eyes. “It’s all going to be ok someday,” she whispered assuredly.

  15. Chris Fries says:

    Hi! How ’bout I offer up this 10×10?
    Just to say that I’m happy to see you again!

    “Gone but not Forgotten”

    Think I’ll go visit the CCC,” I say to myself,

    “to huddle and reconnect with some old word weaving friends.”

    Then my mind panics as I gape at the screen;

    I sit in pure unbridled dismay — How can this be!?!?

    Did Shane take a break? Or worse, pull the plug?

    All the old bookmark will show is “Error: Not Found.”

    “Oh my God, this can’t be true!” I gasp aloud.

    Have the welcoming and encouraging members gone silent for good?

    But today I am relieved: Just a move — nothing more!

    The always joyful support is restored, as it was previous.

    …and all is right with the world!

    Glad to see you’re still around, my friends!!!!

  16. mistyfan says:

    By popular request: Continuation from CCC #281

    Henri huddled up tight in his workman’s clothes. What a pity Jacques had not appreciated his plan for Gestapo Headquarters. Didn’t Jacques know a lucky break when he saw one? But Jacques had refused to approve it; he said it was too risky. Well, Jacques might think it was too risky, but Henri had made up his mind – he would do it himself. To heck with it being risky – he’d taken risks before and got away with them. Okay, some of that might be down to pure dumb luck, but he was still here.

    Henri had secured a pass to Gestapo Headquarters through Louise Duvall, a true friend and sympathiser from Duvall’s Plumbing. The Gestapo had called on them because their pipes got busted and water was flooding the ground floor. The Gestapo had had previous experience with Duvall’s Plumbing when their toilets got blocked, so they knew they could count on Duvall’s. What the Gestapo didn’t know was that same previous experience had given Henri the chance to get a first-hand look at the place. Henri had walked right in, posing as a plumber’s apprentice, Louis Perrault, and tagging along with the main plumber, Richard Abel. Henri had done nothing fancy that time; just scouted around Gestapo HQ picking up what layout he could. Not to mention picking up some plumbing experience that might come in useful.

    But this time it would be something fancy.

    Henri hadn’t told Louis what he was planning; it was best the man knew nothing. It was way too dangerous and he couldn’t say much if they got caught. Henri had the feeling that Abel suspected that this time he was up to something more than just scouting the joint. He could see it in Abel’s eyes. But Abel was staying silent about it. Sensible guy.

    “Let’s go, Perrault,” Abel said, giving a wink.

    Henri nodded. They strode up to the entrance to Gestapo Headquarters with a calm show of humble tradesmen coming to do a job. They presented their passes and toolkits to the guards at the entrance.

    “Duvall Plumbers, sir. You gave us a call about broken pipes and flooding.”

    The guard examined their passes and waved them in. “You can’t miss it – it’s spilling into the main corridor now. The Commissioner’s having a fit.”

    Henri had to suppress a chuckle as he and Abel stepped inside. The Commissioner would be having more than a fit if this job succeeded.

  17. K says:

    It’s been a while since I’ve seen the site running. I’m glad to see it back, although I’m not sure how to bold the words.

    Petals descending from the nearby trees remind me of pure snow as they brush past my face. Spring comes with its precedent of melting everything, but as years have progressed, I find that it doesn’t ring true. My harsh personality cuts through the skin and shows no mercy. Impervious as I stand, nothing dares to approach me, and everyone stow their identities and countenances in my presence. A gust tears through the park and the huddled trees. I draw my arms closer and breathe into my hands despite the warm air.

    Due to previous memories that have frozen into a river I pay visit to every day, I’m the only one cold even when I stow my hands into my pocket or breathe into them. I used to think over time that recollections would melt, but they latch onto me, daring not to let go of my hand. After being acquainted with cold isolation, my heart crumbles like an avalanche, and sunlight falls like a blizzard.

    I spot a shadow near the end of the road as it advances. Taking a step back, I bite my lip, minding the converging being. The taste of iron pervades my mouth. As soon as I take a glimpse of the person’s face, he looks up and meets my eye. His eyes widen for a second as he stops in his tracks. Knowing of his fatal flaw of indecision, I slacken my shoulders and turn on my heel. I break into a run when he doesn’t keep his silence and shouts after me. He materializes beside me and grabs my arm. Being caught off guard, I allow him to snag me in an embrace.

    “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “for never understanding you. You’ve had it hard by yourself, haven’t you?”

    A tear slips down my cheek. I heave a sigh, trying to find a grip on reality. I wrench away from him and walk away without tossing a glance back. He should know from one glance that approaching me is akin to boarding a ship heading not towards an island but an iceberg, yet he resists his usual cowardice. After picking up the pieces of the fragile thing named life and rearranging them, my surroundings blacken into night. The void piercing my heart perpetuates an everlasting winter and tests my endurance through it, and though I attempt to cover it up, I’m an ice child. Because my heart can not melt from its confines, my lips become chapped. Because I freeze anything I touch, I shy away from him due to the fear of being close. If I come any closer, his heart may catch a cold, too. I know he’s the last person I ever want to come in contact for that reason from the warmth sealed in the cracks of my heart.

  18. A Hole in the Sun

    Maddy Pernod didn’t really think she’d go mad from exerting her brain in this simple thought experiment. The idea was to show why aiming a radio frequency carbon dioxide laser at a navel orange did not result in a cored sphere. The challenge was that neither Maddy nor her two lab partners had a clue about chemistry, physics or biology.

    Maddy, Jim Tombstone and Sarah Bookbinder nearly touched heads in a tight huddle around the glossy photographs of vintage Earthling technology. Maddy didn’t want to be the first to speak. Jim obliged her by pointing out how difficult it was to imagine physical processes in this era of mind over matter. To press his point, he conjured up a Cara Cara and thought a hole into it. Maddy giggled as Sarah stuck her mouth under the orange to catch the pure juice.

    Maddy decided that they needed a break. She had been wanting to show off her latest artwork. She whispered to the others to get their attention without alerting Professor Oxygen. Jim and Sarah watched as Maddy brought a native chameleon into their midst. The creature was a ghastly, washed-out shade of gray. She told them that, because it was suspended in midair, they had a chance to see its true color. She brought the cored orange next to the chameleon and waited for the grey to transform.

    Within seconds, the chameleon started changing. As the orange flush crept through its skin, Maddy whisked the orange away and replaced it with a lump of charcoal. Black streaks rose like ink in a beaker of liquid soap. A quick swap of rose petal for charcoal brought a pink hue to the creature.

    Sarah forgot to be silent. “Oh. My. God.”

    Professor Oxygen looked up sharply. “What the hell are you clowns up to?”

    Nothing!” Three abashed voices squeaked. The chameleon and rose petal disappeared as the students returned to the previous task.


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