Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #311

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. Nothing
  2. Daily
  3. Cold
  4. Selective
  5. Modern
  6. Breath
  7. Second
  8. Crash
  9. Hook
  10. Prior

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.)

50 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #311”

  1. dragonblogger says:

    Here is my entry for today:


    He wasn’t even being selective

    modern man with no prior success

    nothing but his hot breath

    visible in the formidable cold

    she didn’t give a second thought

    just her daily workout routine

    before the crash of the hook

    induced permanent darkness

  2. tanjamaltija says:

    Nothing could have prepared me for the bone-chilling cold on Hawk IV. So much for the modern science of selective genetics. I was too proud to hook up to my breath-taker outside the Building, and it was a daily fight not to crash to the ground, unconscious, with each second that passed. Prior to my second eyelid transplant, I had never had any trouble breathing. Weird.

  3. Jen says:

    Thank God or whomever for Aunt Janice. As weird as she was, she was the breath of motherhood where The Duchess was the cold hand of reason. GranDa had long since left us, having managed to foist The Wife off on some other poor sucker before his passing. So at least we didn’t have to see her again. It was The Duchess, quiet and dull and voiceless, and me. Until Aunt Janice arrived.
    It had been like this since GanDa passed. When The Duchess and I occupied the same space, for a holiday or whatnot, we acted like immutable nations at a treaty conference. Nothing was easy in the space between us. But Aunt Janice was my second, more motherly mother. She could move into the thick crust of muck between us as if it didn’t exist, as if our otherness did not crash together like swirling planets.
    Where my mother was selective—about everything from her word choice to the size of the diamonds on her earlobes—Janice was this permissive, wild presence that urged The Duchess to relax, even just a touch, into her skin, into my being. It was Aunt Janice who suggested I spend some of every summer with her, in her modern downtown condo. It was Janice who paid part of my way to Europe the summer between high school and collge. It was Janice to whom I turned when I needed what I had wanted from The Duchess.
    She was like a crochet hook, linking me through the loop of my mother’s existence. She made us whole, almost a family, like GranDa had done.
    Prior to The Duchess’ illness, I saw Aunt Janice as regularly as I saw my mother. Which is to say, not frequently. And that was fine. While Janice could be the buffer, she was becoming less selective about her story telling, sharing with The Duchess certain things that she did not strictly need to know.
    Aunt Janice was the breath of warmth that came on the weekends once The Duchess was transferred to the hospital. My daily visits, lasting longer and longer, then shorter and shorter, were punctuated by her turn on Saturdays and Sundays. We had a loose ritual. We met at The Duchess’ house on Friday afternoon to cook dinner and have a drink. Then she left to sit at my mother’s side for the rest of the weekend. She could pop back to Mother’s for a shower or a break, and then she was back. I drove home and sat alone in my house, not working.

  4. Anklebuster says:

    Selective breeding, by hook or by crook
    Transgresses nature, so says the Good Book.”

    This drivel, scrawled on the door of the restroom stall at Arnie’s BP, was so out of place among the carnal advertisements and racist slurs that Fred actually thought about it while riding out the burrito storm. He wasn’t much of a bible student, but he knew about Jacob’s cattle wrangling from Genesis. He wondered how much different modern husbandry would be if Jacob’s Mendeleevian experimentations had borne fruit.

    Taking a deep breath against the stench of a fresh onslaught (and the cold splash of a mercy flush), Fred’s brain momentarily focused on nothing more urgent than the resolution – made daily – to forego spicy foods. As his bowel settled into the eye of the second gastric cyclone, his thoughts returned to their prior track: what if pole-peeling and segregation actually worked?

    He imagined star-crossed lovers humping in full view of a set of encyclopedias, or a baby grand piano. Following this train, he considered government-sponsored academies that weeded out the Bachs from the brutes, the Vanessa Mays from the Lady Gagas and the Hawkings’ from the hucksters.

    As he concluded his business, he made one more resolution – to take a crash-course in biology.

  5. Liss Thomas says:

    The empty throne room held nothing but cold and darkness.  Jill curled into a ball on the hard stone floor but she could find no warmth or sleep.  She drew in short breaths hoping they’d hurt less.  They didn’t.  The pack had dumped her unceremoniously on the floor at the Wolf King’s feet.   He offered nothing to ease her pain, seeming pleased at her discomfort and commanded she spend her first night of captivity in agony and solitude before being put with the other prisoners, a lesson of sorts she couldn’t comprehend.  She remembered her father’s woe filled howls echoing through the night but he hadn’t come, to her relief.  The guards had been doubled at the King’s insistence hoping for a chance to catch him in his distraught state.  Lastly she remembered Robbie cradling her in his arms, fighting against the guards as they took her from him and calling her name as he was taken away. Now, alone in the dark, Jill let the tears flow.
    A door creaked open before a soft click sounded.  Soft footsteps padded toward her.  Jill froze  and shut her eyes, afraid of more impending tortures to come.  Soon a thick woolen blanket covered her.  A gentle hand wiped the hair and tears from her eyes. 
    “I’m not going to hurt you,” a young voice whispered.  Jill opened her eyes to face a young she wolf crouched beside her.  She set a small bowl on the floor and squeezed the juice of two small white berries into it.  Next she carefully lifted Jill’s head so she could drink.  The cool, slightly sweet liquid quenched the burning of her dry throat.  She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she tasted it on her tongue.
    “Thank you,” Jill whispered, “But you better leave before they find you here.  Your King will be angry.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”
    “He can’t hurt me any more than he already has,” the she wolf said.  “I am Layliana but you may call me Layla.  “The drink I gave you will help with the pain.  I’m sorry he’s being so cruel to you.”
    “It’s not your fault, Layla,” Jill said.  Her constant shivering finally fell away and the warmth started to sink in.
    “Yes, it is,” Layla said.  “It’s all my fault.  The King is my father.  He’s become cruel and evil.  He hunts your father because of me.”  Layla pulled her cloak tighter and lay on the floor next to Jill.  Her face bore a grief she couldn’t mask. 
    “I am his only child.  I’m sure he wished for a son but he tolerates me until he can mate me with a worthy successor to his throne.  He chose The Gray, who is just as cruel and power hungry as he is.  But I fell for someone else, a much younger wolf.  He had long gangly legs and a dark coat that shimmered almost blue in the moonlight.  Loupe was kind and compassionate and strong.  He would have been a good leader but my father saw him as weak and forbid me from seeing him.”
    “But you were in love with him,” Jill said.
    “Yes, we were in love.  But father wouldn’t listen.  The second I mentioned Loupe, he would get angry. I would sneak out early to see Loupe on a daily basis. We were careful and very selective of our meeting places. One day it came to us, a way to make father accept us. A way that told him and the world that we were meant to be together.”

    “Oh,” Jill said, catching her meaning. She could tell it didn’t end well for the modern day Romeo and Juliet.

    “Father send his best guard after Loupe and told him I had been attacked, the punishment, instant death. Tomas found Loupe after tracking him for several days but Loupe pleaded his case. Your father ordered Loupe not to run, or else he would kill him. Tomas sought me out and I told him the truth. He confronted my father on the matter but father accused Tomas of being a traitor and sentenced him to a horrible death. The Gray found Loupe.” Layla stopped and sniffed back the tears. “I’ll help you escape but you must do something for me,” Layla said.

    “I will try, Layla.”

    “Take me away from here.”

    Without prior warning the door crashed open and guards rushed in. Jill reached for her new friend as hands like meat hooks hauled her from the floor. The Gray pulled Layla from the ground and held her by her throat.

    “When you are my mate, I will not tolerate your defiance,” he said to her.

    “Take the human prisoner away and put her with the others. I’ll deal with this one,” he said.

  6. […] Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #311 […]

    • zennjennc says:

      Here it is in the text! I combined a few prompts here so check out the above link for bolding and all those details. Genre: dystopia or pre-dystopia

      Grab A Couple Matches

      St. Louis Post

      Financial Section

      Monday, October 28, 2057

      Daily Editorial

      Wall Street trading closed early Friday after spiraling out of control on reports that US Natural Gas loads and reserves are expected to dry up in the next fifteen (15) years, much earlier than anticipated. Some are calling the crash the Second Modern Black Friday. No sign as to when the Stock exchange will reopen. Regulators are being selective and secretive prior to reopening the markets. Analysts (including this one) aren’t holding their breaths and do not expect a quick change in the markets on the latest abysmal energy sector news. Many in the energy sector point the finger at a combination of increasing environmental restrictions and user power demands due to technology hunger and recent cold winters. Environmental experts rebut by claiming that the energy sector sings “same hook” without data to back it up. Already the murmurs of “bailout” and “stimulus” can be heard in the deep, dark, dank, corridors of Washington. Sounds like the tax payers will end up picking up the tab on this one yet again with nothing to show for it. Whatever happened to all that “green” energy from the 2000’s? One piece of advice I do have for all of you on Main Street (what’s left of it), don’t procrastinate, get you financial back up plan in order now. And while you’re at, grab a couple matches–you’re going to need them.

      Richard Wilson

      Financial Editor

  7. I feel nothing; a daily cold of selective modern breathlessness. For a second I feel hope, then a crash from the serrated hook of a prior time.

  8. kathleenkl says:

    Mind-full Conversation, Continued and almost completed

    Yes, yes, yes Lovie, you are hearing Momma right – April 4 the Orange Blob will be pleading guilty and be sentenced!

    No son, no trial. No more testimony will be required. His prior bad acts – oh such bad acts against others — that would not have been stopped if it were not for your sacrifice, added to the selective coldness, the immoral things he did to you and our girl … well Lovie, there is no need for your girl to testified to again. With DNA, that put him on the hook for all of the other crimes, and her previous testimony, the evidence, the 4 other witnesses to his previous bad acts who are poised to testify against him and now, as of the 27 he is a Convicted Rapist. Yes, from that rape from 22 years ago. Yes.

    Well it seems to have added up in the Orange Blob’s messed up mind. After sitting in that jail cell day in and day out; after a while, about a year and a half, his daily thoughts came around to, “Oh Shit. They’re gonna kill me for what I have done.”

    Yah, it is laughable to me too that now, now he is worried about life and death. He is a self-centered immoral creep.

    I hope you don’t mind son.
    Mind that I authorized giving up the death penalty.
    No son, it was not about me being the bigger person.
    No son, it was not about me not wanting to see him put to death.
    No son, it is not that I have changed my position on “an eye for an eye”. Oh, hell no Lovie.
    I may well be a modern mom, but I am still the old-fashioned mom and woman who is not willing to change my ingrained beliefs.

    Oh Lovie, I have worried about my choice though, my choice about authorizing the bargaining of giving up the death penalty son. I hope you are not mad at me for that. I really do hope you don’t mind. I was soooooo worried about the reinjury that testifying in a lengthy trial would cause to your intended bride. And then it was the DNA and those other families and other victims.

    I know she is a strong … Yes Army Strong, yes son, but she loves you so much and no one needs to rehash and rehash the details of that day. Not out loud. Because we know these things will not ever leave her mind, nothing will erase the images, the pain, the loss of you, the loss of self she feels at times. But not rehashing it for all to hear ….

    I was more than willing to give up knowing the dirty details that still leave gaping questions in my mind, in my heart … for the chance of avoiding having more pain to come back crashing into her like a freight train.

    And yes son, you are right, I don’t know if I want the girls to hear it. Your sisters are in so much pain already just because you are gone. No son, I don’t want to hear it all, but as you know, the DA has told me And I am so proud of you. And so is the DA.

    Yah, I know you like him.

    No Lovie, no more second chances for him. He will breath the stale air of a prison in Oklahoma for the rest of his life. But there is a second change now for your intended bride, yes Lovie.

    And I know you too will be there at the sentencing. I know Lovie. I know.

  9. K says:

    Nothing happens daily.

    The cold hook stifles your breath, tightening around your neck.

    There’s no time to be too selective or time to mull over modern tales.

    Start, and the second everything feels comfortable, your brain crash will alleviate.

    Congratulations. Finishing a novel prior to the deadline is no small feat, and now, these words belong to you.

  10. Mario Schembri Wismayer says:

    NOTHING beats a COLD, DAILY shower. This may cause your heart to CRASH to the back of your mouth AS you CATCH your breath while you reach frantically for the towel on the HOOK. However, according to MODERN science, a cold shower taken PRIOR to a SECOND, hot one, will cause a SELECTIVE switching on of certain specific brain synapses. This will enable you to easily perform the mental gymnastics that we all have to do during the course of an average day.

    • KathleenMK says:

      Mario ~~ Thanks for coming back and letting the words work for you and work for you they do. I love the prescription for the daily cold and hot showers to help the mind.


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