Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #464

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 before and 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. Forgetful
  2. Trepidation
  3. Scion
  4. Lexis
  5. Saturn
  6. Pluto
  7. Mars
  8. Flight
  9. Fragrance
  10. Metamorphic

10 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #464”

  1. annew says:

    In spite of the familiar FRAGRANCE that wafted through the cabin during the FLIGHT to MARS, PLUTO and SATURN I had become FORGETFUL. With TREPIDATION I dug a deep hole in the METAMORPHIC rock on that strange (non?) planet will I searched my wrist LEXIS for the exact name of that SCION I planted there.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Howdy Anne! Long time, no read. I like the way you used the other meaning of scion and tied it to fragrance. I also like how you knocked those ten words out in just a few lines.



  2. KathleenMK says:

    Hello there Miss Anne!
    It is so nice to see you back, once again knocking out the ditty in clean, short, fun fashion.

    It is so sad that Pluto is a non-planet now.

    Write On,


    P.S. Hope to see more of you.

  3. annew says:

    In my mind Pluto IS a planet 😉

  4. Anklebuster says:

    The moom, quasi-sentient creatures that emigrated from Pluto to Saturn, have a problem. They are so forgetful that they have to communicate with a six-word lexis! Indeed, this is the reason for not relocating to a more hospitable rock, like Mars or Earth. They simply could not remember to swing around Saturn during the flight. Apparently, gravity assist is something they picked up from watching television: they had no words for it.

    As a result, they are now swinging from the rings of a gas giant, instead of chomping metamorphic morsels on a balmy, inner planet. Not literally, mind you. They are actually huddling in a quivering mound of fur and scales, surviving solely on the fragrance escaping from their eye sockets.

    Scholars have reached out to the moom. The moom leaders responded by sending their scion–the brightest of the lot–to convey their trepidation at the unsolicited offers to help:

    “Moom fear xenos. Xenos smell. Xenos exterminate moom. Moom hungry.”

    It is no use. The scholars can teach the creature nothing. The crown prince has attention deficit disorder!

    • Chet Ensign says:

      Am I reading too much into this if I call it an allegory for our present political climate?

    • KathleenMK says:

      Mitch ~ I was sure you would be able to use this list and you did not disappoint! … I love …surviving solely on the fragrance escaping from their eye sockets.. I am not sure where you came up with this one but … goodness!

      Write On,


  5. Chet Ensign says:

    I parked the Lexis 3X-7000 in a distant orbit of Saturn. One with a good view. I wanted the stones to see something cheerful when they woke up. It wouldn’t do to start things off with everyone in a bad mood.

    Then I started the rejuvie sequence; the reoxidation, the hydration, the braising. All the gentle metamorphic processes that would turn the stones, in a few days, back into living beings. And I went ahead and kicked off the last step, filling the chambers with the familiar fragrance that would stimulate olfactory memories of home. Febreeze Ocean Spray. The venerable establishment was a household name when we departed. Would it still be a going concern now? Would there still be denizens of earth breathing the air to want it?

    “Just be glad that you’re not on the mission to Pluto,” Commander had said when I expressed trepidation about leading the mission. “Those poor b****ds will wake up in another century; the sun just another speck in the sky and nobody left to return their calls.” Still, I didn’t think I was the best choice for transporting the lawful issue, the scions of the world’s wealthiest to colonize a new world. I was just the last man standing from the Mars flight, the unlikely success that had given a desperate population a sand grain of hope. But I wasn’t cut out for mission command in general and certainly not one where the fate of humanity was at stake. I was too introverted. I tended to nurse grudges. And I was terribly forgetful. Like was I supposed to start the respiration cycle first and then blood flow? Or was it the other way around?

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