Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge # 551

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. Malarkey
      2. Shenanigans
      3. Dirt
      4. Gravel
      5. Voice
      6. Tear
      7. Procession
      8. Ebony
      9. Ivory
      10. Keys
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7 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge # 551”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    TMZ Exclusive!

    Alicia Keys had a tear in her eye as she listened to Joe Cocker 2.0. Joe had had the gravel removed from his voice. Now, he sounded more like his angelic pals.

    His private concert was marred by the shenanigans of Nicki Minaj and Cardi B., who argued throughout Cocker’s sweet rendition of Ebony and Ivory. John Lennon smacked both of the ladies upside the head and told them to keep their dirt outside. Joe Cocker 2.0 finished the song with no further malarkey from the crowd.

    Nat Cole shimmered in to present Joe Cocker 1.0 with his engraved harp. A procession of cherubs passed out cotton candy.

  2. stormwriter2 says:

    The funeral PROCESSION made its mournful way down the DIRT road, past Jude MALARKEY’s ranch. The young widow, in her EBONY garb, grimly followed the horse drawn carriage with plodding, determined steps. She had not shed a TEAR in the three days since her husband’s mysterious and untimely death. Some of the villagers thought it odd that she seemed so determined not to give VOICE to her grief. Those most prone to distrust of their neighbors whispered suspiciously as the procession went by, hats in hand out of respect for the dead.
    The young widow, if she heard snatches of their unkind conversations, paid no heed. As the procession made its slow way, some of the remarks grew bolder.
    “I bet she poisoned him,” said a raven-haired woman with sharp, mean eyes. “Everyone knows she threatened to kill him if he got up to anymore drunken SHENANIGANS.”
    No one said anything in reply, so she added in a louder voice, “I saw her push him down in the GRAVEL outside of Crawley’s Store last week. Saw it with my own two eyes!”
    She glared at those about her, daring someone to contradict or argue with her.
    The widow stopped in front of the woman, her IVORY face now scarlet with rage and indignation. She didn’t turn to face her, merely stood in the road as the carriage pulled slowly ahead. The mourners behind the widow were forced to stop.
    An older gentleman, the widow’s father, put his hand on her shoulder and murmured, “Ignore her, Ruthie. Just ignore her.” He patted her absently. “We gotta finish this here funeral march and get old Jed in the ground first. Then we can deal with the likes of her.”
    His disapproving eye fell on the sharp-eyed woman and he said to her, “Kindly shut the hell up unless you have something constructive to say, Melody.”
    The woman shut her mouth, though her mien was as antagonistic as ever. She pulled her KEYS from her purse and stormed off down the street to where she’d parked her car.
    The large space now between Ruthie and the carriage reminded her poignantly, uncomfortably of the distance that had grown between her and Jed in the months before his death.
    “You’re right, Daddy,” she said softly. “Let’s do this.” And she resumed her slow, determined march once more.


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