Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #335

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. Industrial
  2. Diehard
  3. Enslaved
  4. Often
  5. Location
  6. Obstruction
  7. Gold
  8. Uninhabited
  9. Extremist
  10. Scholar

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.)


10 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #335”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Abraham Lincoln Jones was the extremist. John Wilkes Barre was the scholar. They formed the rock duo Five Buck Pointe. When they weren’t making horrible music, they often discussed politics over horrible coffee at Starbucks.

    Jones: Enslavement is the oppression of choice for cowards. True victors embraced their vanquished foes and brought them into the fold of their society and culture.

    Barre: Nah, the best oppressor would have to be compulsory religion.

    Jones: That’s dumb! Enslavement helps rebuild the industrial arm of the post-war society. Religion is too elitist. Besides, indoctrination takes too long.

    Barre: Elitist? Come on! What about religion being the opiate of the masses?

    Jones: Some scholar you are. Don’t get it twisted. Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.

    Barre {mock-clapping}: I see you’ve had your Google Wheaties this morning. Context does not invalidate reality. Meaning is based, not on semantics, but perception.

    Jones: You are so full of yourself. You just can’t admit that I’m smarter than you. All that verbiage you spew is a mere obstruction behind which you hide the ignorance of your uninhabited mind.

    Barre: I oughta knock the gold out of your disrespectful mouth. Who writes all the songs for our group? I do! Who gets us the best gigs and best locations? I do!

    Jones: What the hell does that have to do with your being stupid? You just described yourself as the typical, violent road manager! We have no diehard fans. Cruise ships may be fine venues but they come with a captive audience, after all. I guess that makes us cowards, hunh!

  2. Alistair Kruger says:

    I have seen the world. It has often been a wonderful host. Every location has opened its doors with spectacular hospitality. I have been enslaved in uninhabited forests, treated like gold by untouched cultures. I am a scholar of life and an adventure extremist . My only obstruction the tall grass on the road less taken. I am a diehard seeker of all things not seen. The industrial workings of earth… perfectly in tune with my soul.

  3. Ashley says:

    Cherise woke on the ground, moist dirt sticking to her face. Blinking her eyes in confusion, she could feel dried blood running the length of the left side of her face. She tried to move her arms only to find them bound behind her. Giving up on using her arms for the moment, she rolled onto her back and looked around. She was lying beside a ravine with the darkness acting like an obstruction of her view of what lay at the bottom and on the other side of her was the dense rainforest.

    Glancing back to the ravine, she saw someone standing near the edge looking down into the black abyss. Cherise didn’t know how she had missed the man before, but looking at him now she recognized who it was. It was Avery Heywood, the man who she had grown fond of over the course of a few months. Okay more than just fond, she was completely head over heels in love with the man. It was an unrequited love, but a love none the less. From the first time she had meet him everything about the man had drawn her in, from his charismatic personality to his diehard extremist ways. He was like a magnet that drew in everyone. But he seemed completely oblivious to everyone around him. So, Cherise couldn’t believe it when he had taken notice of her. Her, Cherise Lynn, an underpaid scholar with a few measly connections that had apparently been very high up connections, which Avery had used her for to get some uninhabited land for his industrial company that he was the CEO of. The location of the land was in a deep part of the rainforest in Brazil, isolated from civilization for about a good sixty to seventy miles at least.

    Avery glanced back at her to see that she was finally, his eyes glinting like gold in the moonlight. “You’re awake finally.”

    Cherise would’ve came back at that with a sarcastic remark, but her head throbbed too much to even think up a good comeback. So, she settled with glaring at him with hatred radiating from her gaze.

    “Oh,” he quipped, “no smart aleck comeback. That’s a first from you, my dear.”

    Still she said nothing back to him, instead working on pulling the pocketknife out of her back pocket. Avery, mistaking her silence for the silent treatment, tried to corrode her into talking to him.

    “Don’t be that way, Cherise. You must’ve known snooping through the company’s files would have dire consequences?” His voice was like velvet, distracting her from her purpose.

    Cherise shook her head subtly to try and get her mind back on track again. It worked for the most part, except for the fact that he kept talking. Making it harder for her, especially when she began sawing through the rope binding her wrists behind her back and Avery appeared completely oblivious to what she was doing. By the time she was over half way done cutting through the rope, Avery had walked over to her and had decided to hoist her up into a standing position. He didn’t say anything to her as he guided her over to the edge of the ravine and turned her to face him with her back to the dark abyss waiting for her.

    “You know, Cherise, if you had just been a good girl and hadn’t been so nosy I wouldn’t have to kill you right now,” he said, his voice laced with the smallest, barely noticeable hint of regret.

    “Like you care,” she spit back at him, finally cutting through the ropes but keeping her hands behind her back so that he didn’t notice.

    “That’s where your wrong, Cherise,” Avery murmured to her. “I do care.”

    His statement shocked her, but she didn’t let it show. “Then let me go.”

    “I can’t do that,” his voice already back to the haughty, superior tone that she detested with every fiber of her being.

    Cherise quickly kneed him where it counts and grabbed the gun from the holster at his hip, dropping her pocket knife behind her in the process down the ravine. She was glad that her father had taught her how to use a gun, as she clicked off the safety and aimed at the man before her. Avery had gotten painfully back to his feet, his dark hair falling in his eyes. He immediately noticed the gun in her hands and put his hands up as he edges slowly towards her with his eyes trained on the pistol in her hands.

    “You wouldn’t shoot me, Cherise,” he spoke soothingly, trying to coax her into putting the gun down. “You know me. You care for me.”

    She could feel herself wavering with every word he spoke to her. And with every passing second she couldn’t find it in herself to shoot him. Cherise lowered the gun slightly, her finger still on the trigger.

    “You could never shoot me,” Avery said, reaching to talk the gun from her hands.

    He was right. She was enslaved to her love for him to the point that she could never hurt him, even if that meant her dying by his hand. Avery jerked the gun in her hands, causing her grip to tighten instinctively around the gun and pull the trigger. The bang of the gun going off stopped her heart and she felt like everything was moving in slow motion as Avery looked down at his chest in confusion and pain. A red stain was slowly spreading out words from where the bullet had pierced him through the chest.

    “Avery,” Cherise cried out in shock and horror, as he tumbled forwards to the edge of the cliff into the ravine.

    On his way down he had bumped into her knocking her off balance, causing her to fall back into the ravine as well. But unlike him, she grabbed the edge of the cliff preventing her from falling to her death, too. Her arms had scrapped along the sharp sides of the ravine ripping up her skin as she dangled from the edge. Cherise hung there for a moment, before laboriously hoisting herself back up. She lay on the ground on her back looking up at the dark night sky breathing harshly with her arms stinging viciously. Cherise couldn’t believe it, Avery Heywood was dead and it was partly her fault.

    ~Six Months Later~

    Cherise looked out the window of her small apartment at the busy streets of New York. She still couldn’t believe that Avery was gone. And she often found herself contemplating why she even loved him in the first place. Whenever these thoughts would arise, she would get this feeling that she was running out of air and it scared her. She didn’t know what to think of this or why she would suddenly feel like that, but she did know one thing. Even after six months of him being gone, she was still completely in love with the man even after what he tried to do.

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