←
→

Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #349

Posted: August 12, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Copy Challenges | Tags: |43 Comments

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. bananas
  2. electric
  3. shadow
  4. lightsaber
  5. passionless
  6. Morocco
  7. deal
  8. invention
  9. communicate
  10. shelter

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.)

43 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #349”

  1. Anklebuster says:
    August 12, 2014 at 11:38 pm

    You’re not going to believe me but, let me tell you why I am hanging out here.

    I was traipsing through Taza-Al Hoceima-Taounate, sleeping in shelters and stealing eggs and lemons to trade for sex. Mind you, I wasn’t dipping my wick in that uncouth place, I was buying porn. The folks there were hungry for food; I was seeking a cure for my passionless marriage.

    Anyway, I finally made it to the Mediterranean coast. I thought I saw Chandroc, but I wasn’t sure. Had I but known, I would have tried to swap for some of his fish. But, I digress. I approached a large cargo ship, the Maiden of Marrakesh or some such drivel. A tall, dark man lurked in the shadow of the ship. He beckoned to me with a rope.

    I wasn’t about to be waylaid with a bag full of smut. I stopped well beyond his reach and raised an eyebrow. This subtle gesture was lost on him. He began to gesticulate wildly. Actually, it was more frantic than wild. But, what else would you call a man waving a rope with gangly arms, goggling and frothing at the mouth?

    I opened my own mouth to communicate a silent What?

    “Where are the bananas?” He pantomimed peeling. He looked like a marionette doing a drunken strip-tease.

    I laughed, despite myself. “There are no bananas in Morocco!” This totally random response on my part caused him to stand stock-still.

    “You fool! You think I trade noose for chicken eggs? For lemons? I have chickens. I buy lemons. You bring bananas or no deal!” He resumed his arm-waving.

    “Alright, I’ll bite. What is this noose of which you speak?” I followed him into a forklift.

    “You see Star Wars, no? I make rope like lightsaber. You sell to hangman. He make job easier.”

    “Get out! Really? How many batteries does it take to hang a thief?”

    “You laugh. But this rope is tessellated capacitor. Hold big electric charge.”

    He slipped his invention around my neck, pushed a button and, well, that’s how I wound up here, officer.

    Reply
  2. CuriousCat says:
    August 14, 2014 at 3:25 pm

    I, Morocco am home alone watching few crap television shows on my brand new Plasma display while slouching on the 10 years worth of comfy couch while eating my favourite delicious home-made pizza.

    For hours and hours of boring and passionless entertainment, ‘ding,dong bell, someone rings the bell’. It’s pass midnight and if I remember it clearly, there are no guests or deliveries should have come in this late hour. Hence, seems even weird people wants to visit this shabby old shelter. I cautiously tip toeing to the door and creeping like a lizard to have a view through an awesome peep-hole.

    I see a man in his late fifties with long crude white hair, unbalance posture, his skin colour feels unnatural, staring through the door with his cold blooded eyes as if he sense my presence. I feel an intense, high level danger, red alert pressure from this stranger soon to be intruder. Without warning, I quickly glance back and see a lump of dark smoke gathering behind me and when I turn back to the peep-hole, the old man nowhere to be seen. What a development of horror story am I into.

    “Are you looking for me, dear?” An uninvited voice talking to me. I carefully turn and saw the old man appear from nowhere standing behind me. What an intense situation, highly sophisticated atmosphere is building up between us.

    “What’s wrong, my dear?” His eyeballs dead lock to me. Is he a digital camera with autofocus on? Well, at least I’ll try to communicate back to brighten the mood although it will against the plot.

    “I didn’t notice you were there sir.” I did notice him though. “May I know who are you sir?” Like I care. “Its past midnight, won’t your families be worried about you?” Yes! Why don’t you quietly back away to your home sweet home. You’re drunk.

    With a moment of silence, the mood drop down to a critical level. Suddenly, ‘it’ appears, the hateful horror wide smile. He vanish into thin air and jump towards me like a ninja sneak up in the shadow, and make a lunge at their prey. Well I am not any kind of prey.

    “You shouldn’t underestimate me!” I rolled backward to avoid him and jump forward to a wide space. Now I can strategically escape rather than sitting duck over there. I went to the living room while being pursuit by the menace old man who trying to.. bite me?

    “Are you a cannibal? A zombie or a vampire??” I really don’t want to be bitten by him. Who knows if he did brush his teeth properly.

    He push me to the edge of the cliff of my couch while showing his the most beautiful sets of teeth and a bio-hazard breath.

    “You’re too clingy sir. Kindly spare me a little space, please?” While being occupied by the treacherous situation, I’ve notice a brilliant weapons for my temporary victory. I quickly snatch it with my free hand;

    “Open wide sir and eat my bananas!” Well I didn’t even peel it properly but it will do the job for now.

    I ran upstairs and head to my bedroom. This isn’t your typical kind of room. Well, it does feels childish but within the childish it holds a brilliant but destructive invention, copyright to a genius creator, me. Now to deal with this intruder, I’ve an excellent, not yet experiment weapon fit perfectly for this task.

    “Where are you my sweet little dear. Come to grandpa” What a marvellous fearful calling while creeping up the stairs. He approach my room. The door bust open.

    “Welcome to my hell-go-around laboratory” Bowing courteously to my horror. “I presented my most humble awesome toy: The Little Pony. Powered with V6 engine as well nuclear radiator, imbue with indestructible man-made steel alloy, Adamantium, and a modified hot rod blade cloak with electric component worth of 500 terawatt power!” I’m proud to be a father.

    The Old man smirk and thinks I’m joke around.

    “Beware! It will cut and carve you harder,faster, and smooth like lightsaber. I’ll deal with you appropriately. Prepare to be experimented and meet your maker!” I ran fast as I can like Usain Bolt although the distance between me and him is pretty close, grip it tight and swing hard from below and rise high for homer.

    He can’t react fast enough to dodge it. Alas, Morocco emerge victorious. THE END

    “Seriously? Yet another boring entertainment shows.” *Television turn off*

    Reply
    • bbanne says:
      August 14, 2014 at 11:02 pm

      CuriousCat, what a story! Just when we think we know what’s going on, you take us somewhere else. I love your “bio-hazard breath” and the idea of using bananas as a weapon.What a wild ride that was.

      Reply
    • Anklebuster says:
      August 14, 2014 at 11:07 pm

      CuriousCat, you are hilarious. I was going to paste my favorite phrase until I saw another, and another…Oh my, this was fun to read! I love all the references, over-the-top gadget and irreverent narrative.

      One of my favorite phrases: I really don’t want to be bitten by him. Who knows if he did brush his teeth properly. is priceless!

      Cheers,

      Mitch

      Reply
    • Cathy Miller says:
      August 17, 2014 at 2:23 pm

      CuriousCat – how wildly creative. Love this. 🙂

      Reply
  3. bbanne says:
    August 14, 2014 at 10:54 pm

    Sorry I have been MIA. Mum has been in and out of hospital this last couple of weeks so I’ve had my hands full. All should be well now, though 🙂

    Reply
  4. Cathy Miller says:
    August 17, 2014 at 2:19 pm

    Rain slid down the yellow slip-n-slide casing of the bananas nestled among the leaves. An electric sky lit up the coastline, then hid in the shadow of blackened clouds.

    The gods rumbled their displeasure as lightning struck out in lightsaber precision. Jonathan dragged on his cigarette, the tip lighting in silent tribute to the unrest outside. Passionless eyes tracked the storm as cold calculation tumbled his plan into place.

    Seeking cover, the tourists to Morocco had scattered like a fleeing Atlas Dwarf Lizard. A fortuitous event, Jonathan mused. One less hassle he had to deal with. If he didn’t know better, he would believe the violent storm was an invention of his benefactor.

    Time to move. Snuffing out his cigarette, Jonathan tapped the laptop keys awake. While he wasn’t one to communicate much in the way of details, he did believe the $5 million contract fee deserved at least a nod of respect.

    The encrypted message was a stark precursor to the task at hand.

    The golden jackal has left its shelter.

    Message terminated.

    Reply
  5. delphiusbogue says:
    August 20, 2014 at 10:54 pm

    Lightsaber?!?! Really??? how am I going to put that in a fantasy story????

    Reply
  6. delphiusbogue says:
    August 22, 2014 at 7:57 pm

    ok, back from vacation and finally back into some sort of routine…Here goes.

    Chandroc had come a long way from the Marietta. After the Captain was killed and none of the hands had stuck around, Chandroc took the ship himself. He renamed the old boat the “Morocco” after some far port some of the other sailors talked about sometimes. Maybe he would be able to visit this place someday, maybe he would be able to taste those strange fruits that the sailors had told him about; long and yellow, bananas he thought they were called. But for now, he had to try and make some money, for himself, by himself. None of the other hands were interested in staying on a boat that was so unlucky. They said that if her captain were killed, the boat should be scuttled; sunk to the cold passionless depths of the sea, so that no one would inherit the bad luck. Chandroc disagreed. There was money to be made, fish to catch, a deal or two to be made. He would take this boat and damn the bad luck. Just sailors superstitions anyway.

    Time went by slowly for Chandroc. It was difficult to manage the large vessel by himself. But he did catch a small portion of fish, enough to keep him fed and to maintain his boat. He was never able to come out of the shadow of the other captain though. There was always his spirit hanging around the boat, whether it was true, or if it was only Chandroc’s invention of imagination, it was unsettling to Chandroc.

    The next week caught few fish, and the sky continued to grey as the sea grew rougher. Chandroc had finally had enough. He decided to seek shelter at the nearest port, and there, he would sell the boat, and the shade of the captain. Chandroc worked his way back to the port. He finally arrived, a modest catch in the hold. He went immediately to communicate his intention to sell the boat to the dockmaster. The dockmaster agreeed to sell the boat and get him the money for it, but needed to wait for a few days. Chandroc agreed and headed to the closest inn to find a room and a pint of that good brown ale that Ebynissia brewed locally.

    2 days later, a loud knock sounded on Chandroc’s door, rattling the wood in the loose doorframe. Chandroc awoke bleary eyed and disoriented, a result of a long night of brown ale and stories from far off lands, stories that were too fanciful to be belived. Chandroc got his bearings. He was in the scratchy, lumpy bed in the inn. He was waiting for a messenger from the dock master. He jumped up and looked for his pants, before realizing that he had fallen asleep with them on. The pounding continued. Chandroc shook his head and went to unbolt the door. A young man stood in the hallway in front of Chandrocs door, barefoot and dirty. “Mr. Chandroc?” he said. Chandroc nodded. “Master Durfin of the dock told me to come get you. He says it’s about your boat.” “What about my boat?” Chandroc asked. “I don’t know sir, you just need to come.” “Ok, Ok,” Chandroc said. “Let me get my boots.” Candroc sat on the small chair in the room and pulled on his old boots. He picked up his hat and followed the youth to the docks.

    Chandroc chuckled more than once thinking of the fanciful stories he had heard last night. Some fool thing called “electric” that could move things without wind or horses, or could light the night without a flame. And then there was the story of a boy who had to save the world from an evil, black clad man, armed with magic and some toy called a “lightsaber”. Such foolishness that men could come up with while drunk on ale.

    The boy looked back at Chandroc a few times, puzzled at Chandroc’s mirth, until they finally arrived at the dockmaster’s office. “Ahh Chandroc!” the barrel chested Dockmaster called as they approached. “Good and bad news about your boat I am afraid. The good news, I have 12 gold marks for you, for the boat.” Chandroc’s eyes widened in suprise and said, “Only 12? That should have brought at least 100 coins!” The dockmaster nodded. “I agree.” He said. “But, that is the bad news. Your boat sunk as soon as you left the dock. It seemed to be caught in a storm that only affected your boat, and then it sank. The 12 marks, are from the salvage crew, it is what was found in the wreckage. I am sorry.”

    Chandroc could only shake his head. It was the captain, unhappy with Chandroc yet again. Chandroc said quietly, “Fine. give me the 12. Sorry for your trouble.” The dockmaster gave him the money in a small leather pouch and said, “No trouble. I am sorry, and I wish you luck in the future.” Chandroc nodded, took the pouch, and turned back to check out of the inn he coud no longer afford. 12 marks. That was not much money, but it was more than Chandroc’s mother had made in 2 seasons of farming. 12 marks.

    Reply
  7. bbanne says:
    August 22, 2014 at 8:24 pm

    Ale is to blame for everything, isn’t it? In this case, it’s to blame for you imagination and ingenuity. Well done, Justin. I didn’t know how you’d carry it off without blowing your story but you did it. The mark of a true writer.

    Reply
  8. kathleenMK says:
    August 25, 2014 at 8:12 pm

    “We could go to Morocco,” Isabelle coaxed. “We could get some drinks made with bananas that have little colorful umbrellas in them.”

    “A great invention … those rum filled drinks are,” Dillon mused realizing he had been letting work take too much of his time and it was getting to him, leaving him too tired to fully communicate his love for his wife.

    “We could get our own regular cabana, on the sands in Jamaica. I will remind you that this is not a passionless love we share,” she said with pure and a smile.

    She noticed him hesitate. She stroked his forearm ever so lightly that Dillon’s body could not help but react; it raised … Goosebumps [yah’ll didn’t think that was where I was going did yah?!].

    “Your boss will learn to deal with your absence. He does every year about this time,” Isabelle said as they embarked the airplane.

    Hours later they were laying beachside on the double occupancy chez lounge, sheltered by the large semi-sheer cotton sided cabana. A couple Electric Blue Bahama Momma rum and fruit filled tall hurricane glasses were on order. The seaward side draperies were pulled back so they could watch the waves.

    A shadow began to intrude upon their solitude. “Two Electric Blue Bahama Momma’s?” the waiter asked.

    “Yes. Yes. Thank you,” Dillon said rising to one knee.

    “Mr. Dillion, Miss Isabelle, how are you?”

    “We are well Marcos,” Dillon replied.

    “Would you like me to get you some late lunch ordered? Some fresh fruit, rice, lobsters, as usual?”

    “Yes, please.”

    “Dillon my love, why don’t you make it more of an early supper?” Isabelle smiled. “We could have Marcos bring a couple more hurricanes and some oysters on the half-shell. And then wait an hour before we eat dinner.”

    Dillon raised his eyebrows, smiled and tilted his head, before saying, “Marcos… you heard the lady. And I like her ideas.”

    “Yes, sir. I will be back as requested,” Marcos said.

    Dillon and Isabelle enjoyed their drinks while they awaited Marcos return.

    Marcos came around the corner of the cotton drape, “Here are your two drinks and a lightsaber, I remember how you two light to stay out on the beach after the sun goes down,” he handed the drinks to Dillon and took the flashlight out of his pocket, offering it to the couple. “I will be back in about an hour with your supper,” he said as he turned and left the two alone.

    Reply

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

←
→