Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #357

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. Interview
  2. Hereditary
  3. Dynamics
  4. Ocean
  5. Liquor
  6. Echoing
  7. Systemic
  8. Fortune
  9. Endless
  10. Fill

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.)


34 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #357”

  1. CarsonB says:

    It had been my good fortune to find a seat that gave me a perfect angle from which to view Anabelle C.

    While my friends were undoubtedly pouring liquor down their throats, I was stuck in a horribly scheduled genetics lab.

    Even liberal artists are compelled to complete a science course if they want to graduate.

    Can you destroy magic?


    Hereditary traits. Recessive and dominant genes. Mitosis and meiosis. The dynamics of chromosome mutation. Systemic genetic analysis and mapping.

    The endless yammering. His monotone voice echoing off the walls of the lab. The semester was nothing more than an extended self-interview for him. He asked the questions. He answered the questions.

    He took life’s wonderful mysteries and broke them in his gnarled little paws, macerated them into powder with his words and dissolved them in an ocean of science.

    Anabelle’s red hair had a strange way of reflecting the fluorescent bulbs’ light, creating a warm brown aura that would fill the room, through which her icy blue eyes could slice and dice with few blinks of her long lashes.

    Now, with the semester nearly over and my passing grade a near-certainty, Anabelle’s hair isn’t strange. It’s predictable. Her blue eyes? They’re just like the lashes. A byproduct of science. She was gorgeous once. Now she’s rational. She’s scientific.

  2. Anklebuster says:

    Once upon a time, a pharmaceutical quack fobbed off a fake pink pill on the FDA and the entire liquor industry. He called it Albecop, sold the patent to Pfizer and fled across the Pacific Ocean with his ill-gotten fortune.

    While ambitious bounty hunters scoured the Micronesian islands, hopeful alcoholic Americans popped endless “pinkies” and drank themselves to death. The cirrhosis epidemic of 2016 practically rewrote the definition of systemic liver failure.

    For the first time in history, humans witnessed the destruction of the hereditary traits that allowed the liver to regenerate. Transplants became obsolete, Hepatitis B made a resurgence with a vaccine-resistant mutation and the morgues began to fill with jaundiced corpses that were practically indistinguishable from the drunken Medical Examiners who rubber-stamped their final certificates.

    The quack, of course, was living the high life, secure in the belief that Micronesia would not rescind its non-extradition status with the United States. In the famous Skype interview, granted a month before his capture and forced rendition, he arrogantly predicted that the long arm of the law would be hacked off on the shores of Pohnpei.

    Sadly for the faux doctor, he didn’t understand the dynamics of political expediency. The Micronesian government would not risk invalidation of the Compact of Free Association, wherein the United States takes responsibility for the defense of the Federation.

    Echoing the sentiments of his constituents, the head of state booted the quack out of his country with a terse, “Good riddance!”

    • Kelly says:

      Eeeeeew. This is eerily possible… or should I say, I hope this is NOT eerily possible. Is the trial of the quack in the next episode?

      • Anklebuster says:

        Heh-heh, what trial? Last I heard, he disappeared into a black hole, where government scientists are hoping to weaponize his invention. The morons don’t even know that the pill is useless!

        I dunno, maybe there will be a sequel. 🙂



        • Kelly says:

          Weaponized? Yikes!! This guy’s got me scared to go forward to 2016.

          P.S. I forgot to say I loved the nickname “pinkie.” It’s the little details that make it come to life!

          • Anklebuster says:

            Kelly, I’m glad you noticed. I got a kick out of naming my drug. LOL
            Don’t worry, though, between bureaucracy and bad science, the best they’ll come up with is the old hair of the dog.



    • bbanne says:

      “…jaundiced corpses that were practically indistinguishable from the drunken Medical Examiners who rubber-stamped their final certificates.” That’s the image of horror.

      Brilliant effort, Mitch.

    • kathleenMK says:

      Mitch ~~
      You had me chuckling from the very beginning until the “Good riddance!”
      This quack is a funny character.


  3. Cathy Miller says:

    So sorry to be gone for so long. I am super-slammed with work and trying to get it all done before I leave in early November for my 11th 3-Day, 60-Mile Walk for the Cure. I promise to come back this weekend and catch up on my reading of these great submissions. Now for me to catch up on my submissions. 🙂

    As I run through another interview, my inner muse agonizes over the loss of CCC. At times, I wish I did not have my hereditary disease of always putting work first.

    The dynamics of time swirl words like anocean wave never reaching shore. Ideas, the intoxicating liquor of my soul, remain bottled in echoing silence, seeking a systemic release.

    My fortune is endless as I look to fill the neglected muse.

  4. Kelly says:


    entering the ocean
    too big for mystery, lost feet dipped in crime.
    the chill begins there, at the
    bottom of my tiny understanding;
    hands far too heavy
    to advance october fortunes.
    i’d interview the seaweed if its green-and-gray-ery
    would teach me anything
    of how to be on shore.
    echoing, now, fathom on fathom, empty and heavy,
    numbing and endless, strangled and gargled,
    and sand,
    sand blasted.
    dynamics lull
    us twice a day to leave the shore, unthinking,
    accept the vague,
    and coat the rims of lips with salted degeneration
    fill the liquor bottle for the oysters, lunch at last.

    hereditary worldview, says the
    sword with both its sides.
    systemic failure,
    says the icy water.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Wow, Kelly! You are going to have to break this one down for us. I am interpreting all kinds of stuff and probably am getting it wrong…This is the mark of great poetry!



      • Kelly says:

        Thanks, Mitch!

        The breakdown [spoilers ahead, but if you saw something else that’s fine}: Exploring what depression feels like. Maybe the deep anguish of a situation one feels trapped in; maybe clinical depression, with no known start and no visible end. And trying to make the poetry have a bit of a drumbeat that pushes the reader into the exploration.

        Dunno if I got there, but that’s where I was headed with it.

        • Anklebuster says:

          Ooh, deep! Now that I know, the re-reading is revealing! I will leave further discussion for others to explore 🙂 but I have to say, this line is brilliant, in context:

          i’d interview the seaweed if its green-and-gray-ery
          would teach me anything
          of how to be on shore.



    • bbanne says:

      Kelly – I don’t think I put a name to it, but I felt the chill, paralysis and sense of drowning in the expanse of nothingness. Very powerful

    • kathleenMK says:

      Kelly ~~ Very deep of despair, uncertainty. The words made me ache inside.

      Well done.


  5. bbanne says:

    Interesting dynamics. I can’t quite work out what’s going on here. It’s not a straight forward interview and I can’t find the seat of power. The silence between questions seems endless. Through it I can hear the scratchy sound of their flicking eyes echoing around the room. Who are they looking to for guidance?

    Leadership used to be a hereditary role, passed down to people trained and purpose bred. Now it goes to the person with the biggest fortune. Today I can’t make out who that is. Their ignorance seems to be systemic, even though their pockets are full. What’s going on?

    Maybe I don’t want this job after all. I’ve had my fill of useless jobs in useless teams. This looks like a vacancy in a series of tenanted vacancies – lights on but no one at home.

    I can feel myself starting to panic. Ocean waves are crashing in my ears and my breath is short. They are still shuffling in their seats and it’s becoming unbearable. Any minute now I will toss myself at the liquor cabinet and rip the top off a bottle – any bottle.

    Actually, that might be a good idea. It should certainly show me who is boss.

    He who defendeth the grog is kingeth of the patch, but he who getteth to it first has most enjoyment.

    I drag my concentration back to the interview. They are all looking at me. Have I missed a question or have I spoken out loud?

    A fly starts to buzz as it bashes against the window as the interview drags on.

    • Anklebuster says:

      He who defendeth the grog is kingeth of the patch

      Anne, this is wonderful free-association at what must be the narrator’s most boring meeting ever.

      You have loads of clever and insightful lines. I particularly loved the paragraph on leadership: the tightest essay ever! LOL



    • kathleenMK says:

      Anne ~~ I think I’ve been in an interview like that. LOL

      I like the They are all looking at me. Have I missed a question or have I spoken out loud?

  6. kathleenMK says:

    Continued again from CCC 356….
    “Stay with her. Don’t let that frightened little gal out of your sight,” Office Palmer instructed Deputy Jason Farrall.

    Farrall knew Palmer had ordered him to stay with Sarah for her own good. Not that there was a worry of her getting away. No, that was not it. The media was bound to be swarming soon, so it was in hopes of protecting her and helping her gain some sense of safety — even if it was only a shred of security. He got behind the wheel of the cruiser and drove her to the hospital. He slowly drove down the dirt road avoiding a few neighbors, the ambulance, and the other country vehicles coming to the scene.

    Jason knew he had permission to begin the interviewing of this victim, but he was determined that it would only happen slowly, softly, kindly — She’s been through enough thus far… with more to come with the exam and all, Jason said to himself as he checked his rear view mirror to find Sarah sitting quietly huddled under his jacket. The fifteen minute ride to the hospital was in silence.

    Turning the corner, a block away from the hospital he reminded himself: I know only Sarah can fill in the details of the crimes that happened to her today. Anything she could say, might be able to be used later to convict the perp., his training was kicking in. Although there were many facts he hoped to get from her, he couldn’t help but feel protective over this five foot three inch, ninety pounds of bravery.

    As Sarah sat on the gurney huddled under the officer’s service jacket he wondered, will her fear of others, of men be endless now?

    “No. If we help her she will begin to trust us all again,” the nurse said in a near whisper, laying her hand gently on his shoulder, as if she read his mind. “If you’ll step out I’ll get this rape kit done for you.”

    “Sarah, this is nurse Patty. She’s gonna need to do a few tests and gather up any evidence we can,” Jason said kindly to a wide-eyed young girl. “Don’t worry. I will be right outside these curtains. Okay?” Sarah looked up at Patty, evaluating her. Office Farrall did not move until Sarah looked back at him and nodded ever so slightly. “Okay. If you need anything you just call out. Okay?” She nodded again.

    “Hello Sarah,” Patty said softly. “As Deputy Farrall said, I am Patty. I will need to conduct some tests, including a rape kit,” she said as she opened the box. Although the nurse was trying to make this seem like a casual routine exam she knew all too well that fear was now surging systemically through Sarah.

    “Patty?” a female voice came from the other side of the curtain.

    “Yes Lori.”

    “Is it okay to come in?”

    “Yes. Oh, wait a minute,” Patty paused and looked up at Sarah. “Sarah, Deputy Lori is here. She needs to oversee this set of tests. Is it okay if she comes in?” Sarah nodded. “Okay Lori. I think Sara is ready.”

    The curtain parted and the five foot eight inch brunette office walked in. Sarah could also see Deputy Jason Farrall standing just outside, as he said he would.

    “She’s okay Sarah,” Jason said in response to the deer in the headlights look he saw. “Just thought you’d feel more comfortable having one of our female officers in there with you during this,” Jason said reassuringly. Sarah’s shoulders dropped a little. “I’ll still be right out here. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Okay?” he said supportively before closing the curtains making sure the cloth overlapped to give Sarah as much privacy as possible.

    What makes a guy force himself on a gal? Jason’s mind began to swirl in disbelief. What is it… is it hereditary? Does a dad pass it down to his son?
    “Rape is not about sex, it’s about power,” the statement echoing in Jason’s head was still not making sense even after five years on the force. I will not ever understand the dynamics behind needing that kind of power, Jason said to himself as his thoughts began to drift to his wife and two young daughters. Oh my God, I will be hitting the liquor cabinet after tonight’s shift, no matter what time I get home. He pulled out his cell phone and starting texting his wife: I’m gonna be late, big case. Don’t worry. Don’t hold dinner for me. Love you and the girls – Jason.

    Meanwhile Patty and Lori began the exam.

    “Before you lay back,” Lori said, “I heard you have some injuries on your back. Can you let me take that jacket off and let me get some photos of that?”

    “Injuries on my back?” Sarah said confused, hesitating, “I don’t think so.”

    “If you let me look I can make sure if you do,” each word was said with kind encouragement.
    “If there is something there sweetie I’ll want to clean those for you. If not, then you can put that jacket back on and let it keep you warm until I get you some warm blankets,” Patty added.
    “Umm. Okay, I guess,” Sarah said letting Lori take the jacket.

    “Oh yah sweetie,” Patty started in, “you have some cuts here on your back. We’re gonna want to clean those out for you,” she said as she turned to get swabs and the Phisoderm.

    “Do you remember how you might have gotten these cuts on your mid to upper back Sarah?” Lori asked as she looked through the lens at the six cuts in the pale skin.

    “Ummm, cuts….” Sarah shook her head, “maybe when I climbed through the window. I had to break the bedroom window to get out of that house,” Sarah replied. “I couldn’t let him sell me. He could have sold me over into another country … an ocean away from E… I sure hope he loses a fortune because I escaped.”

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