Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #487

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. Accuracy
  2. Butterscotch
  3. Root beer
  4. Gypsum
  5. Rose
  6. Curry
  7. Tarot Card
  8. Purpose
  9. Date Stamp
  10. Candle

7 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #487”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Times were so tough that the rats had to snack on sawdust and gypsum. At least someone was getting the benefit of the aborted office space improvements. I looked at the date stamp again. Should I call ’em up with yet another delay tactic? I had already burned that candle down: one extension, based on hardship, another, due to a question of accuracy of the balance. Surely, the wick was about to sputter out on this nightmare. Fate had turned up a grim tarot card on me.

    I picked up the phone. “Put Two-Toes on the line.”

    “Yeah, boss?”

    “Any luck finding our friend?”

    “Naw, boss. He closed up shop right after you gave him the money.”

    “I knew something was off about that smooth-talking, curry-eatin’ sonuvabitch. Alright, go hunt down that butterscotch side piece he’s been keeping. She’ll know how to reach him.”

    “Ah, boss. We did that last week. She OD’d on the smack you paid for.”

    “What?! Rose is dead? Why didn’t you tell me? Hell, never mind. No sense crying in my root beer over that loser. Somebody will rat him out. I’ll call you.”

    I slammed down the phone. Things were hopeless. I should have known better than to finance the expansion with drug profits. That’s what I get for branching out.

    With absolutely no sense of purpose, I tore up the late notice, walked out of my store and drove off into the night.

    • KathleenMK says:

      Those are some tough times if rats have to eat saw dust and gypsum! (Love that description)Surely, the wick was about to sputter out on this nightmare. This worked in oh so well. Bravo.

      Great description of the gal…. that butterscotch side piece… that the guy seems to have cared a bit about.

      Write On,


  2. KathleenMK says:

    Another Mind-full Conversation

    The accuracy of the report was disheartening, especially as I heard your voice – “Mom, he’s okay. He’s here with me now.”

    That wave of calmness and joy that came with your words, as my heart raced with panic as his mom’s phone just kept ringing and ringing, was heartbreakingly sweet. I could hear how glad you are to have your little brother home with you now. But, my heart feels so heavy, as if it is filled with watered down gypsum. Oh the cement shoes of a broken heart.

    The words I spoke to your older brother, within the hour, stung my tongue like a spicy hot curry, as I asked him to be the one to tell yah’lls’ sisters of the passing of the youngest in this family.

    I wonder if the Tarot Cards saw this coming? I mean … isn’t that their purpose? Would they have told us that he’d stopped drinking Root Beer? Oh, I am glad I don’t seek out prior knowledge of things to come. Neither of us mums’ would have ever wanted to know that our boys were leaving us so soon,, too soon.

    I will be lighting a candle for you both now boys. Tell him Lovie, will you? Thank you.

    Yes, yes, you have seen correctly. I have planted ample roses. I hope Waylon likes the butterscotch hewed ones; they shall forever remind me of him, of his hair and that smile of his.

    Lovie … I am glad you get to be with your little brother now. He has missed you much, oh so much as well.

    The latest date stamp reads April 28, 1997 – May 7, 2017. RIP Waylon, RIP young man.

  3. AA HANDA says:

    Root beer
    Tarot Card
    Date Stamp
    She had little patience. ACCURACY had never been her strong suit. Though she loved BUTTERSCOTCH, she couldn’t be bothered to look up a recipe. She’d just throw a few things in a pot; tonight it was butter, sugar, and a little ROOT BEER. She stirred it over low heat, but by the time it was ready, she was no longer in the mood for it. She felt a little sick as she admired the pristine whiteness of the GYPSUM panels.
    3:16 in the morning and cooler out now then it had been in the day, even though it was already mid-June. She stepped out into the small patio garden and breathed in the scent of the wind ROSE she’d transplanted from a trip to his island in the North Sea. She adored this plant. Something.
    When she went stepped back inside, chilly from the night air, she caught a whiff of the pot of lamb CURRY that was still sitting on the counter and binned it and put the pot in the dishwasher. She glanced at the portrait leaning against the wall. It was Charlotte’s self-portrait. Why on earth was that painting still here, she wondered. For this self-portrait, Charlotte had made herself into a character from a TAROT CARD. Lust. Wasn’t that appropriate? She made a mental note to put that painting on the side of the road with the trash next chance she got. As she leaned against the newly installed kitchen island, she wondered what an Insomnia Tarot Card would look like. She sighed as she began to paint with the butterscotch mixture, using the basting brush to apply the butterscotch to a gypsum panel. Hmm. With renewed purpose, she began to paint over Charlotte’s self-portrait, first giving Lust a mustache, and then devil horns. She took a sharpie and signed it with great flourish: Anabel the Great and then tried to imitate a date stamp. She chose the date that she had asked him to leave: April 1, 2017. Feeling a little better, she blew out the candle, and then made her way up to the mattress on the third floor, cheered by the moonlight that lit her path up the stairs.

    • Anklebuster says:

      AA, this is a nice, dreary-yet-hopeful piece. Very imaginative bit, painting with butterscotch. I get the impression from this and your other entries that you are an artist. Your words certainly are.



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