Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #314

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. Pump
  2. Run
  3. Bullet
  4. Seven
  5. Foster
  6. Paint
  7. Star
  8. Blend
  9. Drop
  10. Influence

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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56 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #314”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Show-n-tell at Mercy Elementary was a disaster. Edna LeBoof was dismayed at the worldly wise parrotry of her kindergartners. She couldn’t swear that the dominating influence was pop culture but, Susie wanted to be a star, Marcus wanted to run ball and bug-eyed Phillip announced that he would sell his own blend of crystal, made from Robitussin and paint thinner.

    These seven year olds had nothing on DeShaunte. When he stood up, the desk came with him. He delivered a soliloquy that sent a chill down Edna’s spine:

    “I’ma ‘bolish the foster care system. Them people is just in it for the money. We don’t get none of it, except maybe five dollars for cereal. I’ma hunt down them judges, pump a bullet in they ass and when they drop, I’ma stomp all over they smug faces. Oh. I’ma get me a Hummer, too!”

  2. […] is my submission for Creative Copy Challenge #314. Click on over and take the challenge yourself, or just read the comments to see what others have […]

  3. Jen says:

    But damn Teddie. He could paint a whore into a brutally beautiful star. Of course Bette would bow to him. Why should his own daughter be immune? I could be kinder, because one dip of his head in my direction and I dropped. I felt the bullet of his influence the moment his voice growled my name like blood and velvet on my ear. His presence fostered obedience. He was as good as liquor swirling in a glass. We only ever wanted more.
    And damn The Duchess, too, because she did not teach me. She did not tell me that this blend of charm and power and looks meant run. She did not teach me to pump my legs away from him rather than fiercely toward and into him. She let me go like an accomplice. It’s been seven years since he ran away from me instead.

  4. Liss Thomas says:

    Robbie lay on the ground, a stunned expression in his eyes and a small drop of blood staining his lower lip. Jill stood back and let him get to his feet. She circled him slowly as the wolf guards laughed and jeered behind her. The Gray and his three closest guards formed a loose circle around the fight. They’d each been given a staff and a dagger. Jill fingered the blade at her hip as she watched Robbie’s confused movements.

    “I won’t fight you,” Robbie said.

    Jill lunged for him again, her staff moving like a bullet through the air. Robbie blocked her attack as she drove him backwards. His back hit a tree and she pinned him by the throat with her staff. She whipped out her blade and held it at the ready.

    “I won’t fight you, Jill,” Robbie whispered in defeat.
    “Then fight them,” Jill whispered.

    Robbie’s eyes showed a hint of confusion before understand replaced it.

    “Don’t you dare smile!” Jill hissed as she raked her blade across his forearm, ripping the fabric of his shirt. Robbie didn’t disappoint. He shoved her back and squared off again.

    “Fine! Have it your way, human,” he growled.

    The fighting grew more intense as they sparred with near misses and dagger thrusts. The wolf circle moved closer as the action picked up. Robbie choked up on his staff and swung with all his might. Jill dropped under it and he connected with the closest wolf sending him to the ground in a heap. Jill drove her staff up and hit between the legs of The Gray so hard he briefly left the ground before he fell hard. He made a squeal like a small girl before his eyes rolled back in his head.

    Jill and Robbie made short order of the other two wolves who were too stunned and stupid to react quick enough to stop them. Just as they turned to run, a small door opened up behind them. Jill whirled, ready for more guards when she saw Layla.

    “Come on! Hurry!” she said.

    Jill and Robbie followed Layla through the small door and secret passages leading through the castle.

    “How did you know where to find us?” Jill asked as they ran through the close corridors full of cobwebs and dust.

    “I’ve been using these tunnels for years to find out what’s going on in the castle. I saw The Gray bring you out and followed. I can get us to the stables and off the grounds before the other guards get wind of what’s happening.”

    They passed by a room that hummed like a generator pump. Layla paused and listened.

    “Sounds like a machine,” Jill said.

    “Worse! Keep moving!” Layla said.

    They came out of the tunnels into an empty stable stall. The smell was a blend of hay and animals. Layla pulled two mounts from their stalls already saddled and ready.

    “Have you ridden a Caba before?” she asked.
    “A what?” Jill asked.
    “I have. I’ll carry Jill with me,” Robbie said.

    Jill watched as her friends mounted the massive animals that had very little in common with a horse, except for the long flowing mane. Robbie hauled her up onto the caba’s back in front of him and showed her how to hold on. Layla led the remaining seven cabas from their stalls, knowing they would run wild once they left the stables. As soon as they opened the doors, the cabas bolted. Layla led the way at a hard gallop with Robbie and Jill close behind her. Shouts and alarms rang out in the distance but only after they’d cleared the castle boundaries. Several cabas followed behind them, influenced by the lead animals.

    They broke through the woods and hit a grassy plain. Another caba galloped toward them at incredible speed. Layla and Robbie pushed their animals harder as the other gained on them. Then Jill noticed the guard’s blue uniform.

    “Veelka!” Layla yelled. He caught up to them quickly.

    “Follow me and stay close. Fostering fugitives is a deadly offense. If we’re caught, we’re all dead.”

    They pushed their mounts for hours without let up and the cabas continued to run full speed. Jill could tell they enjoyed it. As the sun began to paint brilliant colors across the sky, they reached a narrow pathway. Veelka barked out a signal. They never slowed as a response sounded back immediately. They found the camp when dusk settled and stars began to blink into view. All sorts of creatures gathered around them.

    As Jill dismounted from the caba, she saw two familiar faces. Vrag and Saal. She surveyed the other inhabitants as she hugged them both but she didn’t see him anywhere.

    “Where’s my father?” Jill asked.

  5. Finished up my entry been busy this week so falling behind again.

    Final Rush

    You run while you pump

    Seven remain in pursuit

    You drop low; blend between cars

    influence of their rank fetid odor

    momentary flash as bright as a star

    tainted blood spraying like paint

    another bullet down; one remains

    you foster this nightmare no longer

    going down in a blaze of glory

  6. Alistair Kruger says:

    Seven years earlier.

    I was standing choosing paint for my shed amongst a thousand swatches. Who comes up with ‘sheep cloud cream’ and ‘apple berry night black? I mean come on, can you imagine the poor bloke sitting there staring at a colour, thinking, “hmmm, this looks like the grey wolves fur coat of the south artic pole… I shall call it ‘arctic wolf fur white’. A silly job for a sad sod who is probably colour blind. Nonetheless, a blend of cherry red black bullet caught my attention. It had a mystique to it; a Bond girl undertone and a whiff of Hemmingway’s wine choice. I chose it. It was for my shed anyway. I couldn’t see anyone standing outside and critiquing the colour I chose with an artist’s eye.

    I remember the day I decided to start painting. It was raining or, at least, it started to after the first few strokes of the brush. The paint started to run. A weird irony; cherry red black bullet red stains on my shed. If the neighbors came over, it would be hard to convince them that it wasn’t a crime scene and I wasn’t Dexter – the star of that weird, sadistic comedy crime series my friends oddly found appealing. I however, preferred books. My imagination was… well, my imagination. The one positive influence my mother had on me – a love for reading.

    I walked over to the water pump to wash away the evidence; only realizing my stupidity on return to see the rain had beat me to it. That was enough for one day, I had a drop or dip in my earlier painting enthusiasm. I couldn’t foster any more keenness to get the job done and besides that day I met someone…

  7. Pump and run like a bullet from a seven-shooter.
    Foster nothing.
    Paint the town like a bright star.
    Blend in then drop out like a bad influence.
    Rinse and repeat.

  8. K says:

    Keep pumping out the excuses you use for each of us. It’s not like any of us are going to run away, but I wonder why. In this sort of situation, a person would rather escape than keep the gun loaded with bullets plastered to the head; it’s a death wish. How many have you tricked or better yet latched onto? Seven, or is it just the five of us? Yes, continue fostering our faith and encourage our fidelity with those empty words and trite phrases. Paint over the gaps in your testimonies when interrogated about your whereabouts and blend each story together. You must say to every person you meet that your destinies are intertwined as ordained by the stars, right? Didn’t know that the truth would drop onto our heads? Did you? It still looks like we have all failed and fallen into your influence. Vying for your attention, we devour the stories fed to us and find ways to disprove the other’s appearance in your life. It’s difficult to stomach that you’ve lured us this far, but on the other hand, why hadn’t we noticed? “Hello?” I say over the phone. “Have you eaten? Where are you, and what are you doing?” This happens every time. Why aren’t you saying anything? I want to be with a person I can talk to, yet I find myself trying again.

    “Hello?”


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