Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #347

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 and around each of your words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH.

  1. pale
  2. surprise
  3. victory
  4. dissipate
  5. integrity
  6. died
  7. climax
  8. unravel
  9. wondering
  10. gone

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.)


60 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #347”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    From the Notes of Dr. Sarah Foxton
    Tim and I have reached a climax. This phase of our research has come as a surprise to us both. So much blood, sweat and tears have gone into this endeavor: blood from the pigs, sweat from Tim’s nasty undershirts and my tears of frustration.

    When the two drops of n-prolixus devoured nearly two gallons of blood, we were cautiously optimistic. When the resultant sludge began to dissipate, we claimed victory.

    While we were wondering how to package and deploy the volatile solution, I made a comment about Tim’s armpit stains. He quipped that he saved forty-two seconds a day by spraying anti-perspirant directly on his undershirts. His off-hand remark led to our choice of packaging.

    Unfortunately, our collaboration has come to an end. Faced with irreconcilable differences over intellectual property rights, we have agreed to destroy our lab, notes and—of course—all batches of the hematophage.


    Dr. Timothy Bonaventure tossed the lab book into the flames. He couldn’t believe how gullible she was, to think that he’d willingly relinquish his grip on decades of research. He took one last look at her pale, lifeless face as the inferno began to eat all evidence that she had not died by accident.

    Integrity is a Gordian knot of lies for fools to unravel.” Timothy Bonaventure smiled grimly as he carried his canister of Apocalypse from the building.

  2. Kelly says:


    The married men who fall in love with me
    are all good people, essentially
    They love their wives and kids, as strange as that sounds
    It’s a horror when we face it
    and then turn each other down
    It dissipates some over time
    but the friendships haven’t died

    Maybe married women fall in love with you
    ‘cause they’re wondering what you have
    that they ought to

    Don’t let yourself feel fancy
    Don’t let go of your heart
    ‘cause it’s over in a minute when they think real hard
    As much as they’re drawn to you
    they want to go home, too

    Some romantic nightmare
    Keeping it together
    Yardwork and the dogs and a job you don’t want
    It’s nothing but a life you’ve built, you can’t imagine it gone
    All of a sudden
    you just can’t wait to go home

    Married people fall in love every day
    It’s an anti-climax, essentially
    A silver lining comes with every cloud
    Integrity’s a bore
    but I like having it around
    We take our flights of fantasy
    and we come home to…

    Maybe married women fall in love with you
    ‘cause they’re wondering what you have
    that they ought to

    Don’t let yourself feel fancy
    Don’t let go of your heart
    ‘cause it’s over in a minute when they think real hard
    As much as they’re drawn to you
    they want to go home, too

    A stop and a direction
    A victory and a letdown
    A pale surprise to cling to
    A memory of me with you

    Now let’s go home, honey
    and unravel all the threads
    that led us here

  3. Oh, what have I done!!!!

    “Hey Billy! I’s wondering why yous turning so pale. It’s like da green eggs and ham gone and did a surprise victory dance on your belly. Like da integrity of dat there gag reflex done unintegridized in your throat. Like your favorite pickled-bull-oyster jar broke and died an untimely death. Like someone cup-checked you and your foreskin done unraveled some damp dick lint. And I ain’t even gotten to da climax of my story yet.”
    “Bobby… Bobby … Bob … hold on … let dis nausea dissipate. Okay … okay… if tellin’ me that you and dat old porno lady gal of yours is having triplets ain’t bad enough, I don’t know’d what is.”
    “Billy, we’s naming the placenta after you.”

  4. bbanne says:

    Her victory was a surprise to everyone, not least of all to herself. It was the climax of her career but the thrill had begun to dissipate. The clamour for her attention had died and life had begun to unravel. She was left alone wondering where the fans had gone. It’s a poor man who questions his competitor’s integrity, but he had done so.

    The attention had switched from her success to his pale attempt to overturn the result. It hadn’t worked, of course, for she had won on her merits. But in the end, he won by attracting the spotlight and putting her into the shadows once again.

  5. The city seemed to smile as Chandroc steped off of the boat and onto the dock in some nameless town down south. The Captain was off to sell the catch so they all had some time to kill near the boat until the Captain returned with the climax of their labors….cash money. One hour and then two passed and the Captain had not returned. The fishermen were getting anxious wondering just where he had gone. Chandroc picked at a splinter as he sat on the dock, his legs dangling free over the river. The excitement of port was beginning to dissipate, and the excitement of Chandroc’s victory of finally having money was turning into a pale specter.

    Captain Hiassen was still working to sell his catch. He had sold some, but the other boats had come in sooner, their holds filled also. They had beat him to the major money, but he knew it was still out there. A few more merchants to see, and hopefully sell the rest. He knew the men would be anxious, their patience beginning to unravel, but he would return with money for them, his integrity would allow nothing less. Imagine his surprise when a group of men with knives surrounded him, demanded his money, and then stabbed him until he died in a large pool of his own blood. His last thought was, “I have failed my men.”

    The sun began to set in the west, casting long orange trails across the river. Chandroc looked out and knew something was wrong. The Captain should be back by now. Many of the other hands had already left for the brothels and taverns near the docks. They had some money to use, and the credit of a payday pending. Some of the hands waited dutifully by the boat, not willing to rely on credit, and some, like Chandroc, cared nothing for brothel or tavern, only the coins that would soon be clinking in his pocket. But he had a bad feeling about the Captain’s absence.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Whoa. That was unexpected. I keep thinking of stories like the Seven Voyages of Sinbad – these things never turn out well for Chandroc! (Well, I suppose the Captain would have something to say about that…if he could.)

      I’m enjoying how this story is unfolding.



      • You know there is a Sinbad vibe going on here….I used to watch that movie over and over watching Sinbad get in the deep crap and get back out. I actually have a direction to go now, a thread that I was trying to find, Although I should get back to Old Chandroc at some point.
        Thanks Mitch.

    • bbanne says:

      I have probably said it before but I am addicted to this story. Nothing is ever going to be “smooth sailing” for Chandroc, is it?

    • Cathy Miller says:

      I love this line, Justin – The sun began to set in the west, casting long orange trails across the river. Sweet visual imagery. 🙂 I ♥ Chandroc 🙂

    • kathleenMK says:

      Justin~~ wait.. I had to go back and read that for a 2nd time, not believing what my mind had “heard”. Bravo. I did not see that coming at all.

      And I await the next installation, with baited breath… (maybe eating sushi, I was).


  6. K says:

    Something died inside me that day. It came as a surprise to me, but in truth, the rush of excitement dissipated; the small victories I claim paled in comparison to the grand scheme of things. Gone were the days when unraveling truths or merely wondering about the mysteries of the world enraptured me. When it reared its head, every question had been answered, yet as it swept in answers, it, too, sowed the seeds of doubt.

    Perhaps, it was a bit naive of me to think I meant more to them than a cog in their complex machine, but as I came to terms with my position and the incessant assessments thrown my way, it became clear. What once was something I considered sacred turned into a tool, a gauge used to determine who bested whom. Self improvement? Pleasure? None of those mattered unless they entailed a high or perfect score. Sure, I enjoyed those times I quenched my curiosities, but that climax of enlightenment has tapered off.

    Call me bitter. Call me spiteful, but when the machine functioned in that fashion, I must follow. Gears had no need for integrity after all.

  7. Cathy Miller says:

    Family visiting for 2 weeks so of course I’m buried in work. 😉 Catching up with my CCC. 🙂

    Beyond the pale of what should be, the comments came as a surprise. What victory is found in vile words that dissipate common courtesy? Who would sacrifice integrity to inflict pain? Has decency died in a climax of cruelty?

    If we unravel the disguise, will we be left wondering where the individual has gone?

  8. kathleenMK says:

    He stood now, some 2 years and 49 weeks – 1,071 days and nights –
    paler than before due to the lack of exposure to the sun.

    Victory was not his, even though he thought it was. The victory lay in the hands of others.

    The integrity of those who stood around him, a handful in tailored suits, many in tailored uniforms, one adorned in a black robe, but all, badged or not, their integrity shined through. The integrity of the 5 foot 3-inch gal who bested him shined through as well.

    Gone was the 6X across the back of his shirt. Gone were the pounds, many, many pounds lost to the harsher life. Now he wore a 2X on his back. Not half the man he used to think he was.

    She looked around. Taking in all she could. Knowing she was not the only one amazed at how many people showed up today. After all there were 16 folks bravely sporting the badge that showed the face of the one who had died. But more badge clad men and women stood with arms crossed and determined looks on their faces than that.

    Are they blocking the doorways or just standing around the perimeter of the courtroom? she mused.

    ”They came out here, again today, for you, Lovie, and your girl,” she said silently wondering what part each of these men and women had played in helping everyone get to this point. I am surprised to see all of them here. She smiled ever so slightly as she recognized the office who found her baby boy’s body.

    The tears began to well as the gravity of each person’s dedication to helping her family; her son, her would-be daughter-in-law and the other victims began to fill every cell within her body.

    You can do this mom. She heard her son say, sure she was the only one who heard him she swallowed hard, forcing the fear of falling apart to dissipate into the room.

    Although it was not the first sentencing she had attended she was still taken aback as the procedures unraveled what she had prepared herself for. She listened intently: the formal reading of the charges, all nine of them and the judge saying, “five years for rape”, repeating that comment four times. She willed her ears to hear every word and willed her mind to forget not a one.

    He plead guilty to murder in the first degree. He plead guilty to kidnapping. He plead guilty four counts of rape. He plead guilty to the possession of a firearm during the commission of a crime. He plead guilty to possession of a sellable amount of a controlled substance. He plead guilty to possessing the tools of the trade of a drug seller. He plead guilty to avoid the death penalty.

    She agreed to take the death penalty off the table because there are more victims found; ”there are more families who deserve closure,” she painfully remembers saying to the D.A. nine months ago.

    “It is the climax of it all son — You being able to help others … even in death,” she said aloud many times over the last months. “He will not get away with anything any more,” she said with a smidgen of satisfaction.

    Lovie … I hope the five life sentences and the additional 90 years is acceptable to you. I worry about that. And he will be sentenced to 25 additional years tomorrow for the rape he committed 22 years ago, even her internal voice sounded shaky to her. Yes son, it is a blessing and a wonderful gift you have been able to give Robyn. She can stop looking over her shoulder now. Yes, I am sure it helps her knowing all of his charges are consecutive and he will not ever get out to seek revenge on her. Ethan’s mother took a deep breath as the D.A. walked up to her.

    “Are you ready to do the press conference?”

    With slightly shrugging shoulders and a grimace on her face she nodded.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Kathleen, I know how hard it is to write these but, I also know how much it helps you.
      It’s great that you can use these words and have the blend into the narrative.



      • kathleenMK says:

        Mitch ~~
        I wonder, often, if writing these… even makes for a decent read?
        I mean… You know it’s a first hand response….
        I know Anne did not know, until recently that it was a real situation and she had a “good” response to the storyline, but….

        As I submit the opening of my memoir to a contest for review… I wonder if continuing is doing anything except aiding in my healing. I wonder if it is getting “old” to read about.

        But then again… it could just be that today marks 362 days since the sentencing of one and 757 days since the sentencing of the other. Yep, maybe that is why I am insecure today.


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