Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #378

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. Mower
  2. Spray
  3. Engaged
  4. Coughing
  5. Growl
  6. Edit
  7. Portrait
  8. Cat
  9. Spring
  10. Count

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 #378”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Never drink lime soda while staring at a portrait of ugly babies. The last I time did, I managed to spray the proofs worse than a mower on the first day of spring. I prolonged the coughing fit for the express purpose of thinking desperately, hoping to edit my reaction.

    Meanwhile, my sister’s husband began to growl like a big cat—the ones that smack gazelles to death with one swipe of their massive paws—clearly upset that I didn’t share his enthusiasm for my nephew’s mug shots.

    If you’re lucky, you may be able to count on your sibling to keep the better half engaged long enough for you to change the subject. Still, it will be all for naught if you say something stupid like, “So, when is the refund coming?”

  2. Cathy Miller says:

    The editing mower choked with the cacophony clang of clamoring commas.

    A spray of syncopated syllables silently screamed.

    Exclamation points engaged in coughing conflict

    As the grammatical growl of words defying edit pushed on.

    The punctuation portrait prowled with cat-like prowess

    Ready to spring into a word count catastrophe of epic proportions.

  3. bbanne says:

    If I could edit spring from the seasonal calendar, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Every night I listen to the weather and the pollen count before setting out the antihistamines for the morning. I spend my days coughing and wheezing, sniffing and sneezing, my nose permanently engaged with the sanitary sandpaper known as Kleenex tissues.

    Outside I can hear the growl of the lawn mower, manhandled by that portrait of mischief who is my husband. I swear that he and the cat are in cahoots to make my misery worse by bringing all the freshly cut grass and pollen indoors with them.

    I hate spring. You can keep your green grass and your blossom. Just hand me the nasal spray, pronto.

  4. annew says:

    I can’t count the number of times that the cat I called Edit growled at the mower. Once, when I’d stopped for a break, I caught him pointing his spray at the coughing machine! He would become engaged, then spring back, only to start all over again. What a portrait he made!

  5. JK Koos says:

    What happened before.
    Bill Brimer, an unwanted German guest set the house on fire. With nobody to help, panic struck and I managed to only save the remote for the satellite dish. My furry friend Bello seemed under a spell by the German villain.

    Chapter 3
    I sunk to the grass while tears were brimming my eyes. This was definitely a bad day. My house was burning down to the ground and my dog seemed to be under some sort of hypnotic spell by the ugly Bill Brimer. I felt dizzy.
    Count to 10. Come on. Keep control.
    It was all I could do while the wet grass pricked my nose. It was highly irritating. I should have used the lawnmower when I still had the chance.
    8-9-10.
    I looked up again. The dizziness had disappeared and a sense of peace had settled in my heart. I could think clearly again.
    Bill Brimer was still sitting on the lawn some twenty meters away and was coughing. Maybe the smoke did affect him, after all.
    In the distance, I could hear the blaring sirens of the fire brigade. They were on their way, but too late to salvage my home. But Bello was still within my reach. Bill Brimer had taken away my home, but he wouldn’t get my dog.
    I knew what to do. With great clarity, a plan unfolded in my mind and it involved Beasley, the neighbors cat. Bello hated the fat, little monster as much as I did, albeit for different reasons. I hated Beasley because he always used to spray my flowers and Bello hated him because Beasley was a cat. And that would come in handy.
    I had spotted Beasley the moment I ran out of the house. Beasley was sitting on an old tree stump, hidden out of sight and was looking at the fire.
    I took a deep breath and yelled my heart out, “Cat! Darn cat…”
    Bello knew that command. It always did the trick. He was no longer a portrait of rest and peace but the lion in him awoke and it broke the spell. Before Bill Brimer could give a peep, Bello let out a blood-curdling growl.
    Good dog. I knew I could count on you.
    Bello jerked the leash out of Bill Brimer’s hand and engaged in a battle with Beasley. Bill Brimer cursed. For our younger readers, I have to edit out what all he said, but believe me, it came out of the darkest pits of darkness and his baser nature was exposed for all to hear. As if catapulted by a spring Bello launched forward.
    At the same time, the fire trucks came into sight and Bill Brimer slid into the darkness…To be continued.

  6. kathleenMK says:

    Shannon’s story… Continued for CCC 296

    “Are there mo…wer gals like that around here?” the bull rider with a Texas accent said to Jake as he got back to his bar stool looking like a wounded pup.

    “Well, according to that filly o’er there are,” the cow boss said coughing uncomfortably. Jake added a frustrated growl for punctuation, “GGGrrrrrrr.”

    “What’s the matter boss, yah havin’ troubles with that filly?” the bull rider asked.

    “Ol’ Jake’s been engaged in countless dances with this filly but she’s not in fer being roped,” Kyle offered up with a chuckle before tipping the long-neck and wetting his whistle.

    The bull rider looked back at Jake, “well boss, you are the portrait of a good cow boss and a ladies’ man. Maybe she just needs it ta be spring and not summer, son.” The older man listened to the rider.

    “Oh com’ on Jake, you are like a cat, you have nine lives… have yah really used ‘em all up on her yet?” Kyle asked teasingly as Jake reached for his tumbler of Crown and Coke.

    Ryan, the bartender, placed Kyle’s order of chilly fries down in front of him.

    “Oh shut your yap Kyle, before I spray you with the katchup,” Jake said curtly.

    Stuffing a couple of fries in his mouth Kyle put his head down knowing ‘e ‘d’ it; he made the boss mad. “Shit,” me mumbled because he knew that never played out well. Well, I can count on doing double the work tomorrow.


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