Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #326

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. Quick
  2. Reap
  3. Pain
  4. Snap
  5. Visit
  6. Slam
  7. Ignore
  8. Shift
  9. Poison
  10. Valid

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.)

37 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #326”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    The bait, though poison, was impossible to ignore. Grant Templeton made the snap decision to visit the pretty girl’s link.


    “Hah! He fell for it, the perv. Quick! Upload Molten Hail Three. We have just enough time before the firewall can block … ” Igor groaned. Even as he spoke, the connection was broken.


    “Mr. Templeton, sir? This is Richards, in IT?”

    “What do you want, now, dweeb?” Grant got ten calls a day from this pain-in-the-ass.

    Richards hesitated. He was getting tired of the abuse from everyone on the fifth floor. He wondered if he should just let them reap their just rewards. “Umm, I just wanted to make sure you have a valid password for next month. You keep trying to use your wife’s name and the system is going to keep rejecting it. So, instead of you calling me, I thought I would just remind you to try using the HR-approved pass phrase guidebook.”

    “Yeah, yeah, whatever, nerd. I’m busy.” Grant slammed the phone down.


    “Honey, I’m home!” Grant threw his coat and briefcase onto the coffee table and marched over to the bar. When Ramona hadn’t appeared with his slippers, he cursed under his breath and plopped down onto the sofa. He downed half of his drink before yelling out his wife’s name.

    By the time he had finished his third scotch and soda, Grant was ready to play with his new friend. He flipped open his smartphone, connected to the office and tried to get the email from this afternoon.


    “Whaat?” Grant tried to shift his drunk weight into an attentive position. He fumbled with the phone, willing his fat thumbs to cooperate.


    “Awww, man! Come on! Did I change the password?” Grant worked through the haze but, in the end, he had no idea why he couldn’t get online.

  2. After the snap,when all bonds dissolved, salt in a pot of boiling water, as if we were meant to be no more than temporary, as if ours what but a chemical reaction, quick and purposeful, and then over, I could begin to see the blame did not land squarely on him.
    For a time, I visited the pain in secret. I did not want to reap, the lessons. I did not want to find the greater good. I was uninterested in any kind of silver lining that certain people allege. I wanted to sink into the poison we had created. I wanted to curl into it, draw it tight around me. I wanted to bury myself in the validity of my claims of injustice.
    Aunt Janice, and Jasper, sweet Wonder Bread Jasper pulled me out of that cave. They would not ignore me even as I slammed the doors and hid. For a time, they watched as I piled on the anger, and then purged it over the toilet, regarding the bones at my neckline, the pointed edges of my elbows, with a kind of sadness I deplored, but welcomed. I could shift the nonsense out of me as easily as I could gag up breakfast, lunch and dinner. Easy.

  3. Paul says:

    Franklyn studied the words on the screen of his antique PC. They bounced about in myriad combinations, psychedelic country dancers a-whirl in a tangled quick-step. The pain in his head made focusing on the words barely possible and their movement made him queasy. Trying to ignore the twin aches did nothing; the poison was out of the bottle.

    The beige monitor was the size of a microwave, but words crawled over the screen like ants. Franklyn had read somewhere that ants could survive in a microwave. Amazing, he thought, that someone would want to nuke an ant – not much eating. The keyboard was good. Beige with moody keys. Each stroke was like asking a teenager to clean his room: Maybe/Maybe later/Maybe not (delete as appropriate).

    It reminded him of his old typewriter, a faithful but frequently impotent Olivetti. He missed it now and could more than empathise with it. You’re gonna reap what you sow, he sang softly. To himself. Perfect day?; it made him laugh.

    He closed his eyes. The blackness, the stillness, the elemental enemy, calmed his nerves and mind. A visit was good, but a long-term stay was uncomfortable. He knew he would get there one day but didn’t feel the need to book in advance.

    They opened with a snap, a new focus contracting his pupils in the revelatory light. Searching for valid permutations he would move a word here, shift a verb there, implant a paragraph where one had never been needed before. If the mouse let him. Many times he had clicked and dragged with the hope of selecting a discombobulated sentence or misplaced pronoun, only to find that his cursor had gone marauding into foreign lands. Sometimes it would even go undercover, invisible and untraceable.

    All for ten little words.

    And even after that, like a charity shop jigsaw, there was always be a piece that didn’t quite fit. Franklyn knew how to deal with that – men are born with this knowledge: He would make it slam.

  4. Ashley says:

    The slam of the front door seemed to vibrate throughout her being as she stalked away from the now closed front door. She silently seethed in anger as her mind kept replaying the scene of who had just decided to visit her. Dante, the wolf demon, had come to try to get her to go on another adventure with him. Had he seriously forgotten about the last time she had went on a trip with him? She had nearly been sold into prostitution, because of his stupidity. With every thought that surfaced in her mind, Tessa could feel that she was about ready to snap. She knew she had a valid reason to be irate with him, but with every passing second she could feel that pent up anger easily slipping away from her.

    She sighed, resting her head against the doorway to her bedroom. For whatever reason she just couldn’t stay mad at him no matter how hard she tried. She knew loving him would be like knowingly injecting herself with poison, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her chest clenched in pain as her mind conjured up thoughts of him from his molten gold eyes to his snow white hair. He was too beautiful to be real. She knew she would reap nothing but heartache from this, but in all honesty she didn’t care as long as she got to be near him.

    Pulling her wavy auburn hair up into a quick messy bun, she flopped down onto her bed and waited for him to text her like he always did. She already knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore his text, the guilt of that would definitely eat her alive. So, to pass the time she picked up the book on her bedside table and began to read. She had already read two full chapters and was beginning to shift restlessly in worry. Had she actually pissed him off this time? God, she hoped she hadn’t. The sound of her phone going off instantly pulled her out of her worrisome thoughts. Grabbing the phone, she saw that he had messaged her at last.

    ‘Whatever I did to piss you off this time, I’m sorry Tess.’

    She smiled at his message as her heart did somersaults and elephants trampled her stomach. Tessa really did love her demon with her whole being and sometimes it was too apparent why.

  5. Not sure how I got the credit (blame?) for today’s words… LOL I know, Shane’s just trying to see if I’m awake and have MY *bleep* together (doubtful). I need to go take care of the LAST post – yes, I’m awake, but no, there’s just not enough coffee in the WORLD, some months…

  6. Jake Kampe says:

    In a quick recap, the pain hit him with a snap, as he recalled the visit with a slam of reality and realized that he could no longer ignore or assume that this shift of poison culture was valid.

    • @Jake: Awesome shortie piece. Write on!

    • Anklebuster says:


      My response to the beauty of this entry will be slightly longer than the tightly woven, coherent thought-bite you’ve just presented. This single sentence evokes a violent empathetic counter-twinge, what with the snapping and slamming.
      “Shift of poison culture”…literally, a moving phrase.



      p.s. was that supposed to b “recalled the visit?”

    • Jake Kampe says:

      My haste produced poor grammar! Yes, Mitch. “recalled the visit….” But I guess “called” would work as well. Maybe more poetic and philosophical? He called to the inner “visit’, that has since become a living entity within his memory? Yeah, that’s it! 🙂

  7. Shane Arthur says:

    Too quick to reap the pleasure and pain.
    Snap visit slammed shut.
    Ignored the warning shift.
    Poisoned potential.
    Enjoy life while you can – valid advice.

  8. Sorry I’m late….on vacation and too busy! I kid, too lazy.

    A quick snap of jaws reaps pain. Poison flows and ignores my struggles. I slam into the ground. One last visit for no valid reason shifts to an ending.

  9. Reblogged this on Liss Thomas and commented:
    Sorry I’m late….on vacation and too busy! I kid, too lazy.
    A quick snap of jaws reaps pain. Poison flows and ignores my struggles. I slam into the ground. One last visit for no valid reason shifts to an ending.

  10. K says:

    Ignoring nostalgia’s backlash, I allow my steps to falter, and I shift behind everyone else. However, seeing the entire group from this new perspective worsens the feeling. Had it been too late that I noticed that our visit had been too quick? The validity of the answer acts like a poison and drapes above me in the form of a thundercloud. It pains me to say that I grew attached to everyone in my group though I have only known them for a year. Perhaps, I reap it because I have sown it in the first place and should’ve anticipated this unfortunate ending. The double doors slam behind me, yet something else falls into place. My heart slams against my chest, protesting against the fact that I will never see them again.

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