Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge # 445

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 <b>bolding</b> plugin is gone, so you’ll have to put <b> before and </b> after each of your challenge words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH! Or, as cleverly done by a CCC-er you can CAPITALIZE the challenge words in your piece.

  1. Ablaze
  2. Activities
  3. Admiration
  4. Advantages
  5. Affirmation
  6. All-day
  7. Alliance
  8. Americana
  9. Ancestors
  10. Anniversary

6 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge # 445”

  1. KathleenMK says:

    Isabella’s heart was ablaze with more than just admiration for Jacob and she hoped he knew it. I wonder if I should put too much of an emphasis on the activities Jacob has planned for us today? After all, he has made plans for us to be with each other all-day, she thought to herself as she sat in the passenger seat of his Jag.

    “There are advantages to a convertible,” Jacob said as he reached over and began stroking her bare thigh. “You can get a tan on these beautiful legs of yours.”

    Well … then, she said silently as her cheeks began to become flush as he stroked her smooth skin. Her skin tingled wherever he touched. If that is what his touch does to my leg…. She let the incomplete thought trail off into never-never land as she took noticed his hand began going higher and higher up her thigh with each stroke. She did nothing to dissuade him; she merely closed her eyes and enjoyed her body’s reaction to his touch. This could be the affirmation of affection you were looking for girl, she told herself as she let out a long slow breath. A light moan escaped her voice box.

    Jacob smiled widely. Well, my touch does not displease her; he said to himself, this is wonderful. He began to become aroused. He allowed his fingers to travel up under the hem of her short skirt. He felt her body quiver ever so slightly. He took his eyes off the road long enough to make sure he was not tenting his slacks after that response from her. We’re okay. He breathed a sigh of relief. I better wait until I get her to the meadow before I allow myself any more adventure. He drew his hand back, slowly, off of her inviting skin. He turned the music up, a notch or two, in hopes of distracting his desires.

    Thirty minutes later he pulled off the road and began a slow drive under the canopy of Pine trees. Not wanting to seem to have assumed anything, especially before the cabin came into view, he nervously began talking. Explaining.

    “My ancestors have owned this plot of land since it became considered part of Americana. Someone, back in the late 1700s early 1800s decided to call this area Alliance. Some say it is because folks from different backgrounds came together and stood their ground. It’s the Folk Lore around these here parts.” Stop rambling on before she thinks you a fool, he chastised himself. “There is a beautiful pasture right beside the creek I thought we could enjoy a late lunch, early supper at,” his voice quaked as he pulled to a stop in front of the cabin. He reached up and turned the key to the off position.

    He opened the driver’s door with a shaking hand and got out of the car. While she sat patiently waiting for him to make it around the front of the car to her side, she drank in the fresh cool air and the sights that lay before her. Within moments he opened the passenger side door, extending his left arm, hand palm up.

    Isabella placed her hand in his and swung her legs out of the car. He could not help but stare as the movement made he skirt hem slid higher up on her legs. She hesitated with both feet squarely on the ground, keeping her eyes focused on the pebbles as she let him drink her in. A minute later she felt a light tug on her hand. She stood to full height. There was little space between them. Is that his heart beating so loudly or mine, she wondered?

    His eyes fell to her lips, her tantalizing lips. He could wait no longer. He closed the gap and put his lips to her’s. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her in tight, frontal plain to frontal plain and deepened the kiss. She began to melt into him. His free hand came up behind her head cupping her head under her hair at the base of her skull. His tongue began to dance on her lips, asking for permission to enter.

    Her lips parted and their tongues danced together.

    As their kiss deepened he pulled her even closer and she wrapped her arms around his waist to steady herself. It was then that she felt him, all of him, pressed up against her.

    They moaned in unison.

    It was minutes before they came up for their own air. Their smiles spoke volumes.

    “I brought a blanket for us to sit, or lay on,” he said with a smile, “and food and wine … if you would like,” he said not letting go of her.

    “Ummm, yes, yes, I would like,” she replied softly, “a blanket, food, wine, and you,” she nearly purred.

    “Well, okay. Let me get them out of the trunk and I will take you over to a beautiful spot I have chosen for us,” he said reluctantly letting go of her.

    She let her hands trail down his sides as he stepped away.

    He picked up her hand as they walked from the gravel drive way to the footpath between the trees.

    “And if you like me here, I mean like it here, I will make sure to bring you back here for every anniversary,” he said as he lead her down the path without any resistance.

    [Yes… of course there is more!]

    • Anklebuster says:

      Kathleen, I know you had fun writing this. You took your time and set the mood perfectly. Well done!



      • KathleenMK says:

        Evening Mitch!

        I did have fun writing this. It was difficult not to write the rest of the things in my head on this one… but I will save those things for my collection of romance short stories! 🙂

        Thanks for lookin’ it over.

        ‘Til next I hit the keys,


  2. Anklebuster says:

    Henrietta tore the affirmation from the refrigerator in the break-room. Just as she was about to rip the yellowed paper to shreds, something forced her eyes to scan the faded text more closely:

    Creative energy surges through me and leads me to new and brilliant ideas.

    She felt an atavistic chill on the nape of her neck—one of her ancestors breathing hot mysticism down her collar. Her French-Indian roots tried to tell her that it was wrong: C’est mal.

    Where was this coming from? She tried to shake her head clear. That only served to set the initial letters ablaze, as the blurred text swept form side to side in her periphery.

    C … e … s … t … m … a … l … m … t … n … a … b … i …

    The break-room began to fill up. Henrietta was oblivious to the bodies bustling about, making coffee, grabbing lunches and gossiping. The mundane activities created a white noise into which Henrietta’s subconscious began to puzzle out the French acronym and the gibberish that followed.

    Henrietta muttered under her breath, “Was Nabi a mountain? Wait! nabi is a prophet. What is it about mountains and messengers from God?” She chuckled with admiration at her silly cleverness. With a final shake of her head, Henrietta tossed the paper into the trash and taped up the notice for the company-wide seminar.


    On the day of the seminar, Henrietta called in sick. She had no intention of attending an all-day B.S. session. Especially when it coincided with the anniversary of her demotion from Senior Account Executive to Administrative Assistant. Whenever she thought about that day, Henrietta could never get past the power she had lost and advantages she used to enjoy.

    She lay in the bed, contemplating the tenuous alliance between the water stains and the peeling wallpaper. Surely, this cliché for a run-down abode would fit in any catalog of Americana for the disenfranchised. A crushing feeling of sorrow threatened to suffocate her.

    C’est mal. C’est mal.

  3. KathleenMK says:

    Mitch ~ clever man that you are sent me to Google for a translation! BRAVO with the use of C’est mal. Perfecto!

    I love how you headed down one direction and flopped it another!

    contemplating the tenuous alliance between the water stains and the peeling wallpaper. – what an image you created within this reader!

    And … I felt the weight of …A crushing feeling of sorrow threatened to suffocate her.

    Write On,


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