Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #355

You can blame Katy Perry for most of these words.

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. Magic
  2. Levitate
  3. Steroids
  4. Enemy
  5. Storm
  6. Cage
  7. Palm
  8. Surge
  9. Horse
  10. Victory

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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35 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #355”

  1. kathleenMK says:

    Victory my backside,” Shannon said as blood surged through her veins. The anger she felt was growing and promised to rain upon him like a late summer storm. The steroids the doc prescribed for her were suggested to help her gain relief from the hives, but are they making me itch more? She wondered. Even mypalms are itching. And I don’t think it means money is coming my way! Why isn’t the Prednisone working it’s magic? She questioned as her hand hovered over her arm and the raised red bumps that looked more like welts and itched like the dickens.

    Levitate,” she lifted her thumb and index finger to her mouth. With tips touching she put them in her mouth making sure they were touching her up turned tongue and then she blew. A loud high-pitched whistle rushed out on the wind. “Levitate.”

    Moments later the horse trotted up to her. “Hello Levitate,” she said raising her hand to stroke his silky coat. She bridled him and quickly threw a leg over him. Pressing both of her calves lighting against his ribs she queued him to move forward. With each beat of his hoof the enemy was pushed away. As the duo hit the trail she began to breathe deeper, cleansing breaths. Before the quarter mile mark she no longer felt like a caged cat.

  2. Kelly says:

    I don’t know Katy Perry’s music too well, but I bet she can’t do cheesy, sappy writing worse than this. 😀 😀 😀 (Some days, ya just don’t feel like being profound or groundbreaking!!!)

    CHEESY PEP-TALK SONG

    Gotta get up on the horse
    Re-learn my ABCs
    Gotta face the storm surge with my sword
    Build a bridge from you to me

    I spent some time just holding on
    Time alone, and dark
    Lord knows I wasn’t looking
    But I saw your gentle spark

    At first I thought the enemy
    Was the world I left outside
    When I turned around and looked at me
    The cage was in my eyes

    Gotta get up on the horse
    Re-learn my ABCs
    Gotta face the storm surge with my sword
    Build a bridge from you to me

    No magic sets you on the path to laughing again
    You don’t raise your palm and levitate
    out on the dance floor
    Steroids don’t help the muscles in a broken heart
    Every blue thought’s a victory over crowds of black
    Take one step up toward a new smile
    There’s progress even in taking two steps back…

    Gotta get up on the horse
    Re-learn my ABCs
    Gotta face the storm surge with my sword
    Build a bridge from you to me

  3. CarsonB says:

    So, this afternoon I stop and pay a visit to that short kid who’s always working behind the cage at the pretzel stand. I order one of those salty bastards and notice that his hand looks filthy.

    I’m not the most exacting character when it comes to hygiene. Hell, I was ordering a freaking pretzel from a street vendor. But the palm of his hand looks positively messed up and I mention it to him. I want to know if eating this thing is going to send me to the ER or something.

    He opens his hand and it’s a drawing. Starts in the palm and runs up his forearm. Detailed. Looks like he hired a professional illustrator to take a Sharpie to his paw.

    “What’s the scoop, Enrique?”

    Magic.”

    “Magic?” Now, the kid has my attention. “What? Are going to levitate all of the sudden like than Blaine guy on the tube?”

    Enrique shakes his head. “No. It’s el Caballo de la Victoria. The horse of victory. It can do things.”

    “This I gotta hear. What can it do? Tell me.”

    Enrique gets this crazy grin on his face and takes a deep breath. He leans forward, ready to spill the ol’ magic beans, when some jack-ass Latin meathead decides to storm the cart, demanding a pretzel and a bottle of water. This moron is sighing and rolling his eyes, tapping his feet on the pavement impatiently. I’m wondering if mega-doses of steroids are contributing to his angry disposition when Enrique hands the guy his water.

    The big ol’ dude freezes. You can just see the terror surge over his ugly mug. He starts backing away, pointing at tiny little Enrique. “I saw it. I saw it. No way, man. No way.” Big Boy turns around and hauls ass down the street, weaving in and out of the crowd.

    “Caballo de la Victoria?” I ask.

    He nods. “It’s big magic. It’s not a joke, amigo.”

    “You gonna tell me about it now?”

    “It’s gonna help me. It’s gonna help me get my enemy. Get him fucking dead.”

    “That’s some serious shit, Enrique.”

    “Yes. Yes it is.”

    His eyes don’t look normal. He’s got me worried. I slide him a ten-spot.

    “Keep the change.”

  4. Anklebuster says:

    “My name is Stephen and I am hooked on steroids.”

    “Hi, Stephen!”

    “Those shots are like magic! I can literally feel my upper body surge as the muscles balloon.

    “When I’m in that batting cage, I see better, too. The ball seems to levitate lazily before my eyes. I always knock it into next Sunday, you know?”

    “Stephen, do you like how you feel before your next shot?”

    “No. that’s the worst. My palms are all sweaty, I smell like a horse and my man boobs are sore.”

    The group chuckles gently. Stephen catches the eye of one cute junkie before continuing.

    “But, I promise you, steroids are not the enemy. You damned fans, always demanding victory at any cost. You say I have a choice but, do I really? The other teams are bulking up, kicking sand in our faces and we’re supposed to just play by the rules? Screw that!”

    Stephen kicks his chair back for the added dramatic effect it lends to his storming out of the room.

  5. bbanne says:

    I loved that, Mitch. He has a point, doesn’t he? The use of performance enhancers is a hot topic over here at the moment. Your story shows me some of the pressures these athletes must be under. Great work.

  6. bbanne says:

    A surge of clouds heralded the storm and I made it into the stables just before the rain began. A whinny from the horse told me he was happy to see me, but I was more pleased to see him. His warm bulk was reassuring. I laid my palm against his neck and gently stroked him to soothe at least one of us, then settled back on the hay bales to wait for the storm to pass.

    The thunder was on steroids as it detonated overhead. The horse and I shifted nervously on the spot as we hid from the enemy outdoors. Gradually the rain eased. I crawled over to the stable doors and peered out.

    The rain had painted the dirt with reflective magic. To my eyes, the world seemed to levitate, but upside down, until the illusion was destroyed by the ripples of the final falling raindrops.

    The air was fresh, washed clean by the rain. I sucked my fill and my body thanked me. I went back to my companion and gave him a final salute of victory before I left him. He was much more relaxed now, his head between the cage bars and muzzle reaching towards his feed.

    It had been a short but intense friendship and I knew that I’d come looking for him, should my path bring me back this way again. He farewelled me with a swish of his tail as I set off down the muddy lane, jumping puddles on the way.

  7. Well it has been a crazy month. Sorry for being so absent! I haven’t written anything all month. But now, back. Nice writing so far everyone!

    A cold breeze blew gently across the twisted, rocky shoreline as a ray of sunlight penetrated the grey clouds. As dim as it was, it shone on the wet face of the Fisherman. Waves lapped at his sodden boots as he lay, still as a corpse. Sea birds called overhead, floating on the faint breeze, searching for their dinner in the grey water as the storm began to abate.

    A small crab crawled over the hand of the fisherman, looking for its own meal. The large foreclaw poked, and then pinched the fishermans palm trying to release a bit of meat. It failed as the large hand closed on the crab, crushing it in an iron grip. Chandroc began to awaken. The steroids of adrenaline began to surge through his cold and battered body. Synapes began to fire, his heart rate began to rise, his mind started to function normally.

    He lay there on the beach, trying to breathe deeply, but coughing up water. Finally, he assessed himself. Bones were not broken, his head hurt but was not damaged, he sat up slowly. What was this place? It looked similar to the sea around his home, but something was…off about it. Was this some sort of cage that his enemy, that SHE had put him in?

    He stood, slowly stretching his cold muscles and wiped his hand on his pants. It was cold here, not frigid, but cold. Chandroc knew that he would have to find shelter soon before he froze to death. If only he had magic like the heros in the stories. Then he could levitate or maybe even conjure a horse to take him. He smiled, thinking how fanciful that sounded, until he realized that he was floating above the shore.

    He blinked and fell back to the earth. He stood there, stunned. What was that? he thought to himself. That was when he noticed the sound of approaching hoofbeats. He turned and a large, brown horse trotted up. The fisherman’s eyes widened in suprise. He thought levitate, and he floated. He thought horse and here one was. He looked at the horse for a long minute before he reached out and touched its nose. It was real. Maybe he could….no that was crazy. He was a fisherman, not a sorcerer. But still…. He looked at the horse and said, “Saddle.” A saddle appeared on the horses back.

    He smiled and wondered what else he could do. For now though, he was cold. He stepped over and tightened the girth strap on the saddle before climbing into it. What other kinds of victory would today bring? He imagined a bridle on the horse and it appeared. He smiled again and took the reins, guiding the horse toward the trees, and imagining a small cabin, with a waiting fire and a large meal on the rough table. He rode for a few minutes and then chuckled again as the cabin came into sight, complete with smoke rising from the chimney.
    He rode on, wondering what this all meant, and how he could use it to defeat HER. But for now, food, rest, warmth. Tomorrow, head home from wherever this place was.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Justin, this ROCKS! I am so glad you are back and continuing the saga.

      Cheers,

      Mitch

    • kathleenMK says:

      Justin ~~ Wow… by the third paragraph I was beyond hooked, wanting to read more and know more… You crafted this so well, it drew me in (I don’t think it’s the 4:30 a.m. reading of it) and know that even if I had not read the previous installments I would have been hooked. Then… or now I want to learn MORE!

      Kathleen

  8. bbanne says:

    I am so happy to see you here again. I missed you and Chandroc. I love the new development. Where will this take us?

  9. Cathy Miller says:

    The magic Marcus used to levitate his words was gone. Lost in a steroids world of bloat, his enemy spewed a storm of excess.

    Brilliance trapped in a cage of his own making, he no longer held the key in the palm of his prose. The surge of the attack trampled all in its path and many cried out as the horse he rode reared in repugnant victory.


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