Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #313

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. Crack
  2. Spend
  3. Overt
  4. Stop
  5. Sickly
  6. Nasty
  7. Maddening
  8. Surprise
  9. Pull
  10. Silent

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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52 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #313”

  1. […] is my submission for Creative Copy Challenge #313. Click on over and take the challenge yourself, or just read the comments to see what others have […]

  2. Anklebuster says:

    How evil can one become? Whimpley decided to catalog the most offensive violations ever perpetrated against his personal space. He had not gotten too far with his dark reverie before the name Klute sprang unbidden to the chalkboard of his mind. Yet, this was better than focusing on the maddening lumps in his pillow.

    Klute the Brute was a nasty booger of a boy. His physique was a cruel contrast to Whimpley’s thin, sickly frame. There was that time on the see-saw that proved Newton’s Third Law: Klute plopped to the ground, Whimpley went flying. When he’d finally landed, Klute ran over to pull him to his feet. The force of the jerking motion was practically a silent movie comedy scene, wherein the straight man would make an “O” of surprise as he was propelled forward into a horse’s rear-end.

    Only, in Whimpley’s case, the object that had stopped him was not soft flesh, but a sliding board. Everyone in the playground swore they had heard the crack of his skull. Whimpley certainly hadn’t. He lay comatose for two months.

    When he had awakened, he knew immediately that his future was going to be far different than he had ever imagined. Gleaned from the dried tears of his mother and the overt ogling of the brats, the prognosis popped like an enraged Klute. He would spend the rest of his life in this bed.

  3. Liss Thomas says:

    After a few days of constant care from her mother and Paloma, Jill felt surprised at how well she’d healed. She bore many scares but they grew lighter each day.

    She sat away from the others, who slept peacefully in the silence. She’d spend several days sleeping and now spent the early waking hours thinking of an escape plan. Robbie had tried numerous times to regain her affections but she wouldn’t speak to him. She wasn’t overtly hostile except for the time she’d slapped him on their initial reunion. He’d deserved more but their mothers had pulled them apart. She wanted to stay detached and aloof but spending their time together in such tight quarters was maddening.

    Jill heard him stir and kept her eyes focused on the bars of their prison.

    “We need to talk,” Robbie whispered from behind her.

    She ignored him but he pulled her from the ground and held fast to her shoulders.

    Stop it!” he hissed. “What was I supposed to do? I’m sorry!” He pulled her closer and crushed his lips to hers. Jill’s body stiffened in surprise before she relaxed as his kiss grew more tender. The defenses around her emotional wall began to crack but she wouldn’t let it happen again, not this soon. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. She stood back, unable to look him in the eye.

    “Don’t,” she said. Jill went back to her bedding and lay down close to her mother. “Don’t distract me this time,” she thought.

    The rattle of chains and scrape of metal signaled their morning rations. Jill sat on her bedding next to her mother and Paloma while Robbie stood by to retrieve the tray. Jill’s heart jumped when she saw The Gray enter. He gave them all a nasty smile and handed the tray to Robbie. He looked hesitant but took the food.

    The Gray grabbed him and held him hard against the metal bars a foot off the ground. Robbie dropped the tray and gripped the hands crushing his throat.

    “Let me rid you of this traitor, young human. As wolves, the pack would have killed him on sight for what he did to you,” The Gray said.

    “No!” Paloma screamed. She rushed forward begging and pleading for Robbie’s life.

    “No,” The Gray said. He looked past Paloma and pointed at Jill. “I want her to beg for his life.”

    Jill almost smiled but she kept it inside. She rose and walked toward him. Robbie’s lips had turned a sickly color. Jill tried to ignore him and glared at The Gray through uncaring eyes and when she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate.

    “I beg you not to kill him,” she said before she turned a heated gaze to Robbie. “He betrayed me and it’s my job to do it.”

  4. Kal says:

    His maddening, silent manner stops the affair from going well. I crack a nervous smile towards my daughter, hoping the overt expression is enough to convince her that he needs to loosen his guard. She spends a moment with him in the hallway while I rub my temples. Well, this is quite a nasty thorn. I would imagined I entrusted my daughter to find a well suited partner with a devotion to family, but I guess I will need to get him to open up some more. I straighten up as my daughter and her fiance step back into the living room. As they take their seats, I find quite a surprise. He has a spring in his step, and his sickly complexion flourishes with color. Clearly, my daughter had made progress. He pulls the conversation to him by beginning with a terrible joke. Since they’ve been the first words he’s spoken today, I find it endearing and laugh. Perhaps this may work after all.

  5. K says:

    Sorry. My first one went under a different name.

    His maddening, silent manner stops the affair from going well. I crack a nervous smile towards my daughter, hoping the overt expression is enough to convince her that he needs to loosen his guard. She spends a moment with him in the hallway while I rub my temples. Well, this is quite a nasty thorn. I would imagined I entrusted my daughter to find a well suited partner with a devotion to family, but I guess I will need to get him to open up some more. I straighten up as my daughter and her fiance step back into the living room. As they take their seats, I find quite a surprise. He has a spring in his step, and his sickly complexion flourishes with color. Clearly, my daughter had made progress. He pulls the conversation to him by beginning with a terrible joke. Since they’ve been the first words he’s spoken today, I find it endearing and laugh. Perhaps this may work after all.

  6. Been a terribly busy week, here is my entry for some creative fun.

    Stubborn Sword

    Pull this simple sword

    such a silent nasty frustration

    an overt challenge

    completely maddening

    You stop for a second

    spend a sickly moment

    gasping in surprise

    one more breath

     

    One more strain

    a loud crack echoes

    sword remains unscathed

    but your back giveth out

  7. Alistair Kruger says:

    I steadied my feet. I always over-dramatized every situation. Playing the hero in my head. At school, I would daydream… the door would burst open and to my teacher’s surprise, robbers would flood the room. She would scream, and I, of coarse, would come to the rescue, but being the hero wasn’t enough. The whole thing needed to be caught on film, so the country could see my heroism. Headline: Boy, 12, hero for life, a true Knight of Her Majesty’s Kingdom. A nasty daydream, because I knew myself too well. I would have frozen in the fetal position and cried… I wasn’t a strong boy. My mind was, but my body disagreed. The overt hostility my bullying school friend knew all to well. A madding story of my scant childhood.
    The lake was silent, the movement I saw earlier hadn’t returned. I didn’t mind, because my smoker nerves and red head frame couldn’t take another surprise. However, the mist continued to get thicker, it didn’t want to stop. A seducing wind charmed everything it desired. Take me, I thought, I have nothing left. I could be with my dad and my brother. My mother would turn down heaven if she knew my dad was there. I laughed as I pictured her at the golden gates talking to Saint Peter, “Your gates are lovely and I’m sure the tea is wonderful, but I would prefer the sulfur pits of hell, than five minutes with my ex-husband… are you sure they let him in?” Humour aside, she was a very unforgiving woman; she never forgave me.
    I used to spend my day’s thinking of her (she was a thin, sickly woman) and then stopped when I forgave myself. A crack I managed to seal with the patience of time. I felt a pull on my arm; the mist was so thick I couldn’t see my hands. A grenade of adrenalin exploded in my body. Fight or flight, knight or coward?…

  8. It was a crack and spend inside job.
    Not the overt kind that stops news coverage, but a sickly familial kind that left a nasty taste in my young mouth.
    It was maddening, the shock and surprise and disbelief of an eight-year-old kid having his piggy bank pulled from his room by his own mommy and silently cashed in for spending money for his college-bound sister.

    Two years of saving change down the drain.

  9. @Mitch: I remember this computer course I took (D-base). I aced the class and told my professor I believe I should switch my major from Finance because I loved the computer stuff and did well. She said, “Nah, I don’t think you should do that. Computer science professors are though and only want the best.” Not until later when I thought about what she said did I get pissed. Here’s a professor telling one of her students that she didn’t feel I could be the best. I dropped the idea of switching major and regret it to this day.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Man, the stories we could tell…I did the opposite. I talked to a few recently graduated CIS majors (back in the day) and decided I didn’t want to be sitting in a cubicle making flowcharts for the coders. I wanted to BE a coder.

      Back then, that was like choosing to work in the pit crew, rather than drive a race car. How times have changed!

      Cheers,

      Mitch


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