Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #376

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. Walking
  2. Tinder
  3. Encounter
  4. Cellar
  5. European
  6. Startling
  7. Space
  8. Safeguard
  9. Pressure
  10. Gourmet

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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50 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #376”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    As luck would have it, the Commanding Officer did pick Bert Rivers to run field ops for Jürgens’ sketchy conspiracy. Perhaps the CO’s choice reflected his disbelief that ten ships had been launched into space with the hope of humanity aboard. More likely, sending Rivers was a tactical decision that simultaneously put pressure on Jürgens’ credibility, while providing a safeguard against any claims arising from failure to act upon intel.

    Jürgens and his team were prepared. For his part, Jürgens smiled inwardly at how easily the CO had been manipulated. During the brief, animated encounter in the CO’s office, Jürgens had called the little man’s bluff. Both knew that, without a computerized network to research and verify information, human intel once again was power. However, Jürgens was fully aware that the CO was purposely undermining his mission. And he planned to exploit that nugget.

    Sgt. Rivers may not have known his way around a European gourmet wine cellar but, with his secret network of whores, winos and wharf rats, he paired gossip to hard intel like a sommelier matching duck with a pinot. The veteran was a walking rolodex of underworld informants—and he had the tinder he needed to light a fire under each. He assured Jürgens that he would seamlessly mesh fact and fiction to arrive at the conclusion Andre had cooked up.

    Jürgens nodded grimly. Rivers would return with a “startling” announcement, the CO would have no choice but to turn the team loose to confirm and Jürgens would finally be able to hunt down the real story.

  2. annew says:

    I was walking out of my European –style wine cellar when I encounter ed the Startling Gourmet. It was clear my choice of beverage acted as tinder to him once he was back online. The ensuing flame war pressure d me to find a new space to safeguard my ego.

  3. The silent walking path meandered through rolling hills of birth. Trees stretched in the early dawn, extending bony fingers of tinder with the first sign of life. The encounter was as old as time as the vintner made his way down the cellar steps.

    His roots were European but all he cherished was here along the Russian River. The startling views peppered by majestic redwoods danced along the shores of the Pacific. Coastal breezes and maritime fog kissed this special space in time. His safeguard. His home. The pressure of the past had no foundation here as he prepared his grapes for wine that would make a gourmet weep.

  4. […] Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #376 […]

  5. On the other side of the large housing project, Ms Millie turned the heat down on her pressure cooker. She tilted the safeguard with a knife to expel the steam in a hurry and within minutes lifted the lid to reveal a perfectly cooked chicken. Her gourmet creation smelled wonderful and would pare well with a rare European classic red from the cellar. She chuckled to herself knowing sweet tea would have to do as a compliment to her masterpiece. Smelling the meal, Ms Prissy, the ancient Persian cat came walking in to sniff the air and examine her bowl. Finding only dry cat food, Prissy whined her disdain and slinked back out the door.

    Ms Millie turned the back burner on to start boiling water but the gas eye only clicked without lighting. She pulled a stick of raw spaghetti to use as tinder to spark the small flame from her existing burner to the new one.

    A foul odor wafted through the air causing Millie to crinkle her nose. She checked her pots and headed for the front door. The stench grew stronger as she walked through the living room and opened the door to encounter a startling discovery. A dead animal, only a few spaces from her door reeked as if it had been there for days. Millie slammed the door, and threw open a window to circulate fresh air. Her bones and muscles protested more than usual today as she reached the phone to call in the dead animal. After several rings she got the voicemail.

    “Ya’ll need to come see about this animal in the hallway, ya hear? It’s stinking up the place something awful,” she said before disconnecting. She looked around for her own cat, Prissy who usually likes to hide in the bathroom. She pulled the door open to Ms Prissy contorted and dead behind the litter box. Millie backed up from the sight and stumbled back to the living room. Her breath became labored and her muscles screamed in protest before they gave out completely and she pitched forward. She was dead before she hit the floor.

  6. kathleenMK says:

    Walking … No walking at all for four months,” Doc said. “No weight or pressure on the lower left extremity at all.

    I sighed, but heeded his admonition.

    “Your house has space for a wheel chair, which is good especially with the two dogs and cats at your house,” Paula said adding, “I will bring one up on the day of the funeral.”

    “Okay, thanks,” I said grateful for friends with equipment.

    “We can safeguard me in the bathroom by taking down the glass sliding doors in the shower-tub area,” I said to the husband-type fella as he visited me in the hospital room 58 miles from my home.

    “Okay, consider it done when I get up there for the funeral.”

    *** 4 1/2 days later ***

    “What a beautiful funeral. Such a nice turn-out,” Father Michael said.

    “Yes, a nice grouping of fellow orange uniformed Search and Rescue members, fellow Grand Jury members, and old, old friends along with other friends and family. Yes, I’d say it is a turnout mum would none too soon have expected at all,” I said from my rolling chair. “But we all knew how well she was loved,” I added as tears welled in my eyes.

    Up walked up a red head. Heavy meds and all I knew it was my mum’s dear friend we all came to call Nana.

    “It was a bit startling to see you pull up to the service and have to be helped out of car,” Nana said. “What did you encounter?” Nana asked.

    “Oh, I went looking for a lost dog that we had just rescued last week. Lost my footing, fell coming off a boulder,” I explained.

    Photos rotated on the computer of my mum; snippets from her life for all to see at the wake. Food and drink was enjoyed as well.

    Numerous times I repeated: “No. I am stuck in the chair, the wheelchair, counting my blessings.” A semi-hard splint was covering the lower half of my left leg and most of my foot.
    “… A double compound fracture of my left Tibia and Fibula and dislocated ankle,” I often responded with a deep sigh. “Oh yah and let’s not forget that I am sporting a new interior hardware – a plate and something like twelve screws. 27 staples in the nice straight and clean cut the doc made.” I hope the rescue dog with it? I said to myself.

    “Okay, it’s time someone takes this tired gal home and safeguard her from herself it seems,” some smart mouth said, the Percocet mixed with that coffee and whiskey my sister’s friend poured me made me glad I was sittin’ in a chair even if it had wheels.

    The husband-type stepped up. “It’s time to go home isn’t it love?”

    “Yes.”

    “You’re not coming back to your dad and mom’s ranch?” Karen asked hoping we could all visit even longer with the special friends of dad’s, mum’s and us girls too it seems.

    “No. The hospital only released her this morning just before noon so she could make it to her mum’s funeral and it’s time she gets home for some rest in her own bed. It’s been a long week,” husband-type spoke up kindly.

    “Your foot does look a bit tinder,” Cody said with a southern accent.

    “Maybe it would be best to lock her in the cellar during the week when you are not home Dave,” my sister wisecracked. “Maybe you can create some of your gourmet specials for her while you are at it.”

    “Yep, Champagne and chocolate lava cakes are on order for her breakfast now that I have a captive audience,” the husband-type said.

    “Where are you going to find chocolate lava cake up here?” sister asked.

    “In the kitchen, home made. Do you really think he wouldn’t make it for us himself?” I asked as I was being pushed out to the car.

    “That must be a European treatment for broken bones…” Nana said as I shimmied into the car.
    All I did was smile at the possibilities.

  7. JK says:

    The pressure of having to organise the birthday party had been overwhelming, but we4 finally all sat down and were ready to start the Gourmet dinner. Just when I was about to say grace the doorbell rang.
    The maid opened up and soon a fat little fellow with wobbly legs stormed into the dining room and glared at the guests.
    “Hello,” I asked while I chewed a piece of lamb, “May I help you?”
    “My name is Brimer. Bill Brimer. That’s all I well tell you.” He walked stealthily around the table like a cat looking for a mouse. We felt very uncomfortable. Who was this man and what did he want?
    “Excuse me…but if you don’t leave at once, I shall be forced to call the police,” I spoke with faltering voice. Brimer turned his attention to me and grinned. Then he spoke with a thick, German accent. “Das ist up to you. Ich need space.”
    After he had said the last word he ran to the hallway and descended to the cellar.
    All the guest started to talk at once.
    “What’s going on? Who is that fellow?”
    I looked around and said, “Who wants to come with me? We need to get rid of this man, but I need a safeguard.”
    Nobody moved. They all looked down and some coughed uncomfortably.
    I threw my napkin on the table and stood up.
    “Alright. I take my trusted dog, Bello.”
    Bello growled and followed me down the stairs.
    There he was on his knees, next to some bottles of wine. In his hand was a pistol and he was messing with some tinder. Was he going to make a fire?
    He looked up and said, ”Your time has komm. Dis ist die end.” Then he lit a match and before I could say anything, the cellar was on fire… to be continued.

  8. My story didn’t post the first time… trying again. Sorry if it shows up twice.

    On the other side of the large housing project, Ms Millie turned the heat down on her pressure cooker. She tilted the safeguard with a knife to expel the steam in a hurry and within minutes lifted the lid to reveal a perfectly cooked chicken. Her gourmet creation smelled wonderful and would pare well with a rare European classic red from the cellar. She chuckled to herself knowing sweet tea would have to do as a compliment to her masterpiece. Smelling the meal, Ms Prissy, the ancient Persian cat came walking in to sniff the air and examine her bowl. Finding only dry cat food, Prissy whined her disdain and slinked back out the door.

    Ms Millie turned the back burner on to start boiling water but the gas eye only clicked without lighting. She pulled a stick of raw spaghetti to use as tinder to spark the small flame from her existing burner to the new one.

    A foul odor wafted through the air causing Millie to crinkle her nose. She checked her pots and headed for the front door. The stench grew stronger as she walked through the living room and opened the door to encounter a startling discovery. A dead animal, only a few spaces from her door reeked as if it had been there for days. Millie slammed the door, and threw open a window to circulate fresh air. Her bones and muscles protested more than usual today as she reached the phone to call in the dead animal. After several rings she got the voicemail.

    “Ya’ll need to come see about this animal in the hallway, ya hear? It’s stinking up the place something awful,” she said before disconnecting. She looked around for her own cat, Prissy who usually likes to hide in the bathroom. She pulled the door open to Ms Prissy contorted and dead behind the litter box. Millie backed up from the sight and stumbled back to the living room. Her breath became labored and her muscles screamed in protest before they gave out completely and she pitched forward. She was dead before she hit the floor.

  9. […] Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #376 […]

  10. […] Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #376 […]


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