Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #485

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.

I am beginning to invite others to be the author of a week’s list of words, that means you too! All you have to do is email me at TheHandMaiden_Kathleen@hotmail.com


  1. Dinkum – an Australian word (adjective) – Genuine; Authentic.
  2. Synesthesia
  3. Lacuna
  4. Green-collar
  5. Jammy – British (adjective) 1. Very lucky. 2. Pleasant; easy; desirable.
  6. Zephyr
  7. Diurnal course
  8. Fusion
  9. Diction
  10. Minstrel

19 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #485”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    “When, in the diurnal course of human events, the jammy gardener wins the lottery, I am down to my last two green-collar boys, who’s left to put on the minstrel show tomorrow evening? I keenly feel the lacuna in our entertainment lineup!”

    “Oi, knobhead! We don’ do that sort o’ thing ‘roun ‘ere! Even if your lad don’ a runner, ‘e deserve respeck!”

    “What? I say, old bean, I didn’t know you were from Cheapside. Your diction is giving me a headache. The show is an annual tradition and it must go on!”

    “Cheapside, me arse! we may not be posh as you lot, but me mam gets around in a Linkin-Zephyr. Drives right on up to her gate in Wembley, she does.”

    “Ah, well that’s a dinkum conveyance for you businessmen. I knew old Edsel. He suffered from synesthesia and lack of imagination! He always created monstrosities that were a vulgar fusion of female anatomy and farm implements.”

  2. Tanja Cilia says:

    “Fair dinkum, mate, you win. I used the word trigger because… well, I did know the word for that which makes you sneeze when you clean your ears, but I clean forgot it. Sin-something.”
    “Synesthesia. But you were inferring I have bi-polar condition.”
    “No. There is a lacuna in everyone’s pool of knowledge, ha ha, pun intended…”
    “Lacuna does not mean lake. You are thinking of lagoon. Green-collar people tend to associate everything with Mother Nature…”
    “You have everything nice and jammy, don’t you? Like a zephyr blowing away all your clouds in the diurnal course of things…”
    “I love your fusion of the abstract and concrete, but I wish you would do something about your diction – you sound like a guy from the Black and White Minstrel Show.”

  3. Oh, getting tougher on the words. 😉

    Michael smirked at his friend, leaning back against the bar as he settled in for a night of beer, baseball, and whatever else the night had in store.

    “Jack, if I didn’t know your lovely Australian mother, I’d say you had as much Irish bull fodder in you as my dearly departed Uncle Seamus.”

    “Nah, it’s the fair dinkum, mate. The beautiful Meagan has a thing for me.”

    “Actions speak louder than words,” he replied with a synesthesia sneer, “and the lovely Meagan just walked by without even a glance your way.

    “She’s merely playing hard to get.”

    Michael merely shook his head at the loco lacuna in Jack’s argument. “Keep telling yourself that, Jack.”

    Meagan was beautiful. Stunning really. From eyes that beckoned in a green collar of enticement to her curvaceous body, Meagan was breathtaking. The guy who caught her attention would be a jammy bloke.

    No sooner had the thought floated into his head like a zephyr he could not grasp, Michael felt the emerald kiss of those eyes. Her gaze brightened the diurnal course of time with a ray of hope.

    The fusion of hope and reality stood before him, sharing the air he stuggled to take in.

    “What can I get you?’ she asked with poetic diction.

    Like a minstrel with no lyrics, Michael felt the awkward silence strangle his response.

    “My mate may be at a loss for words, Meagan, but I’ll have a round of what you’re offering,” Jack grinned.

    “Two beers it is,” she winked.

    “You can breathe, mate.”

    “What an ass,” Michael replied. Whether he meant Jack or himself remained locked in the loss of timeless opportunity.

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