Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #364

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. Parking
  2. Depth
  3. Cage
  4. Expressive
  5. Art
  6. Sparkling
  7. Mahogany
  8. Broke
  9. Forlorn
  10. Rebuke

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.)


11 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #364”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    In life, we never know to which domino we belong. Nor do we have any idea that the way we stumble dictates multiple fluctuating streams of deterministic outcomes. In the lab, no such ignorance exists.

    I applied the voltage to Charlie’s tail. He no longer bothered to rebuke me with that oddly expressive forlorn look over his shoulder. He simply humped off down the corridor, in search of the piece of cheese that he probably hoped I’d share.

    As he wound through the lavishly constructed mahogany maze, I broke off two small pieces of cheddar. One fell to the floor. I retrieved it and flicked it into the cage. I took a sip of sparkling cider before popping the other piece into my mouth. I waited for Charlie’s return.

    When ten minutes had gone by, I wondered idly if something had happened. The thought was fleeting, like a flowery skirt on a busy street. I languidly climbed from my stool and ambled down the long table. The cage had no hidden areas. Yet, the myriad walls and sharp angles created over two dozen cul-de-sacs.

    As I peered through the plexi-glass walls, I found neither cheese nor Charlie. Illogically, I imagined him vaulting the clear glass and making his escape from the laboratory. I chuckled nervously at the absurdity.

    Twice more, I circled the table. I kept thinking back to my childhood supermarket trips with Mother, laughing as we kept missing each other in the aisles. I even muttered out loud to Charlie, imploring him to abandon the prank and get his little tail back to his nest. Of course, he didn’t oblige.

    I made note of the incident in the log, locked the door and went home.


    The neighborhood was dark. I paid attention to this fact only because I always relied on the streetlamp to find the keyhole. I knocked on the door, yelling for my wife. The silence following the knocks made me shiver with the beginnings of anxiety. I fumbled with my keys until I finally unlocked the door.

    I reached for the light switch just to the left of the door jamb. When I flicked it up, a jolt sent me flying back out into the street. I was too startled to feel any pain. I peered into the depth of the vestibule, as if the answer to life’s mysteries crouched just out of sight.

    I called out for my wife. I tip-toed through the threshold, feeling my way along the vaguely unfamiliar walls. If I could just get to the kitchen drawer, the flashlight would be handy. The circuit breaker must have tripped.

    Suddenly, I tripped. Damned area rug! I cracked my head on the Laurel Crown hall table. Incongruously, I thought of Charlie and snow. The mahogany table often held our hard-won parking space after digging out from a blizzard. A horrible way to treat a work of art, but lawn chairs were too easily tossed aside. I wanted to sleep.

    The comfort of lying on the floor gave way to a feebly wrought adrenaline-fired panic. Flashlight! Maggie! I gave up.


    The funeral was nice, as funerals go. I was decked out in my purple sweatsuit. That my family had honored such a ridiculous final request, well that was heart-warming. I looked at Charlie, chewing a cigar stub, nursing a beer and flirting with the barmaid. He ignored me.

    I shuffled off, in search of a flashlight.

    • kathleenMK says:

      Mitch, Mitch, Mitch ~~
      I love how this flop around unexpectedly!

      I peered into the depth of the vestibule, as if the answer to life’s mysteries crouched just out of sight. This is a great description of human’s expectations!

      Bravo, again my friend,


      • Anklebuster says:

        Thank you, Kathleen. I love your encouragement! You and the rest of the CCC regulars keep me going. 🙂



        • kathleenMK says:

          Mitch… I know what you mean about the CCC group keeping us going!

          Because of yah’ll I have taken a handful of the ditties… strung them together and turned one set into a short story contest. I wouldn’t have done that without yah’ll encouragements.

          P.S. — It is now titled — Her Escape and More 🙂

  2. bbanne says:

    Mitch you’ve done it again. I wish I could write as well as you. Your story sucked me in from the very beginning.

    “The thought was fleeting, like a flowery skirt on a busy street.” I love that line.

  3. bbanne says:

    Her attempt at parking was lousy but she didn’t care. She’d pushed her way in and was going to take it, whether they liked it or not. A girl deserves a good parking space, especially when she’s in high heels.

    Horns blew as she inched in and out of the space and, when she finally gave up the dance, she simply ignored the silent, staring rebuke of the drivers behind her. She was only a little bit over the line. With an expressive flounce, she climbed out of the car, turned on her heel and strode towards the gallery.

    Although she was broke, she had to keep up the image of a successful woman about town if she ever wanted to get on in the world. Hanging out at the art gallery was part of her plan to be seen in all the right places. She hoped that this exhibition would attract the moneyed bunch; that’s who she wanted to meet.

    Sipping a glass of sparkling wine, she stood in the doorway and surveyed the room. The walls were a sea of colour and texture, taking her breath away. Wow, this artist was good. The works were amazing. If she’d had money, this was the art she would have bought.

    A face swam into focus in front of her and although it looked familiar, she could not put a name to it.

    “Do I know you?’ she asked.

    “No, I don’t think you do” he said. “I’m Laurence and it’s my work that you’re looking at.”

    “I am impressed,” she said, smiling at him. “The depth and range of colour you’ve achieved is remarkable. And the fluidity of the lines is exciting. ”

    He looked down at her, his mahogany coloured eyes giving nothing away, and said “Of course, you are an expert in fluid lines, aren’t you?”

    OK, that was confusing. What did he mean by that?

    Oh my god! Now she knew who he was. He was the driver from whom she had stolen the parking space. He had watched her in resounding silence as she made such a mess of her parking.

    The colour flooded her face as her embarrassment rose. All she could think about was getting away and, with a few incomprehensible mumbles, she thrust her empty glass towards him and escaped.

    There was nothing more for her here at the gallery. It was time to go back to the cage that was her empty little apartment and think about what she could do next.

    She walked back to the car park where her little old car sat alone and forlorn across the white lines of the parking space. She knew how it felt to be alone and not fit in.

    As she put the key into the lock on her car door, an arm appeared, then an elbow, then a strong male body, gradually leaning its weight against the car.

    “Would you like me to teach you more about fluid lines?”

    • Anklebuster says:

      Anne! You rocked it out. That was delicious. I watched shows like Revenge and Royal Pains and it seems you nailed the hoity-toity! LOL

      I really felt the emotions coursing through the main character – determination, desperation, mortification and … hope?

      Well done!



    • kathleenMK says:

      Anne ~~ Bravo!
      You have created a great set of images for me! I too felt the pit of my stomach fall a bit farther as I read your amply described mortification! And then… he wants to teach her more … hummmm


  4. Anthony says:

    The icicles were usually sparkling in late afternoon’s glare by this hour.But today,the tallest buildings had lost their tops as the city remained enveloped in a cage of cloud. A little forlorn sun neither made any difference to the depth of snow on the steps nor cast my shadow on the brownstone’s dark door. Mahogany or something. I carelessly struck the knocker with too much force and the brittle thing broke off in my hand. Then Marlin was opening it.
    “You?” Naturally she wasn’t pleased. But she stood aside so I could enter quickly as the gale was charging in past us with a swirl of snow like it meant to take possession.
    If I’d known she’d be in town . . .“Where’s Xanthia?” As if I really cared. But I was parking here until Monday, regardless.
    Marlin had the art of delivering contempt and challenge in the same expressive glare. And she treated me to it.
    I shrugged. Probably a rebuke because I hadn’t called. I’d seen it before. “Offering me a drink?” I asked.

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