Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #563

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. Bigotry
  2. Civil
  3. Rights
  4. Resistance
  5. Bus
  6. Dignity
  7. Equality
  8. Memorial
  9. Movement
  10. Peaceful

33 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #563”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Bigotry is a memorial to the resistance of civil equality. Those who honor this monument are blind to the peaceful movement that grows, ever so slowly, in the hearts of those who chip away, with dignity and grace, at the diseased monolith.

    A bus may have symbolized the chisel that knocked away the first, stubborn block; however, it will take a rocket to restore global rights to all mankind.

  2. “Hey Billy! How’s come you wanna cut down da bigotry? There’s smaller trees over yander next to my dead lizard’s memorial I made out of tin foil and cheese-wiz cans.”

    “I swear, Bobby! I try to be civil and respect your rights! I try to be peaceful! I try to show you dignity and treat you with equality, but your smart-bus is showin’ so much resistance to da movement of intelligence dat I’m gonna—”

    “Dang, Billy, hold dat thought! I felt a cheese-wiz movement!”

  3. Chet says:

    I remember Uncle Ned being a peaceful man but mams laughed, and not nicely, whenever I sad it out loud so I stopped. She claimed he only acted like that now because he’d been such a mean-hearted pig-head in his youth plus he’d done something unspeakable bad in the war, so he had a lot of making up to God to do in the time he had left.

    I just remembered a big-lapped man who would take his cigar out to the rocking chairs on the back porch and let me snuggle up with him. He would rock me in and read from my little kid books til it was my bedtime. I could not see then – still can’t – how a man who would sit there for hours making up silly voices for cows, rabbits, and mice could hide anything so evil as that inside.

    But Mams harbored a bigotry towards the men of her husband’s family that I never did understand. She would be civil when they were in her presence but no sooner did someone make a movement to leave but she would be up and holding the front door, so full of “Nice to see y’all again”s that you’d think there was a bus for them all idling in the driveway, impatient to leave. And no sooner was the door closed than her veneer of equality peeled off and she’d be back in the dining room with dads, ticking off each affront to her dignity and intelligence she’d just endured on his behalf. He had long ago stopped trying to argue with her, so he’d just say that her rights to her opinions like anybody else and open up the evening paper to the sports section.

    The thing was, mams was wild about my daddy. Her love for that man could take the paint off a wall. After he died – yes, on his 50th birthday – she wailed and moaned for weeks and took all the savings she had to raise a great memorial stone over his grave. We took home-made macroni and cheese to school for a month because she used up all our lunch money too. It was like she had a bucket inside her that held only so much love and respect and in order to give that all to my father, she had keep another one full of resistance and slights that she poured over my uncles and their families whenever they came around.

    • Anklebuster says:

      Chet, this is so sad. I sure hope it is fiction! Either way, you evoked some emotions!

      Cheers,

      Mitch

      • Chet says:

        Hi Mitch – Well, OK. Emotion is good. And I don’t know, we’ll see. Families are complicated beasts and since folks seemed to want to hear more about Uncle Ned and his family, I’m just going to let them all have some time on stage and see where they get to.

        Thanks –

        /chet

    • @chet That was excellent! My favorite line being “her veneer of equality peeled off.” Great use of words there.

      Write on!
      Shane

    • KathleenMK says:

      Chet ~~ Wow. I love how you flopped that story around. I could see her being self. I love your … her veneer of equality peeled off… . Great image brought to this mind’s eye.

      Write On,

      Kathleen

    • KathleenMK says:

      Chet ~ Wow… what a picture you have painted. I am loving the images that come to mind as I read about ‘moms’ like how she was in such a hurry to get folks out of the house … that you’d think there was a bus for them all idling in the driveway…
      And then, the …veneer of equality peeled off….

      Write On, oh wait… you already did, I am playing catch up. Here I go.

      Kathleen

  4. […] story was inspired by Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #563 and brought to you by the […]

  5. “You could, at least, be civil about it.”

    “Why the fuck should I be?” Alex stopped in her tracks and glared at Gabe. “You talk a good fight about equality, but denying to others the ‘rights’ you claim for yourself is just everyday bigotry.”

    “That’s no reason to drop the f-bomb every five minutes. And when did I ever deny anyone any–”

    “You care about me using profanity when your friends are out there protesting my brother’s funeral?” She pointed at the dozen or so unruly picketers outside the cemetery gates. Two of Gabe’s old fraternity brothers were among them; they’d traded jokes and banter on the way in. Their traveling tour bus was plastered with hateful, anti-gay posters. “Fuck you.”

    “I’m just saying, you’d catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

    “Why in hell would I want to catch flies?” Alex looked around, pointedly. She waved an arm. “Besides, look around. It’s a graveyard. I don’t have to smile to catch flies. The place if full of maggots–” Alex glanced back out at the protesters. “All I have to do is put out bait.” Alex stared into Gabe’s gray eyes. She did not blink.

    “I just mean, maybe you could smile more. Maybe hear them out. No need to be so aggressive with your ‘peaceful resistance,’ Honey.” Gabe shifted uncomfortably under the pressure of Alex’s gaze. Her slow smile terrified him. “I didn’t mean it that way–”

    “No? How did you mean it, SugarPants?” Alex could shrivel him with a glance. “My brother and his husband died together, so, what – so your oil and gas stocks would increase in value? So your friends out there could spit on his grave? He and David deserve to be buried together – with dignity. How can you even–”

    “Hey!” Gabe held up his hands, defensively. “I didn’t say a word!”

    Alex’s angry movement was quick, almost imperceptible. But Gabe flinched as she leaned towards him; he drew away, and lost his balance. His arms flailed as he tried to regain equilibrium. His heels slipped over the edge of the six-foot-deep pit yawning behind him, and he disappeared, as if he’d been pulled through the earth by an unseen hand. There was a sharp “crack” – Alex was pretty sure it wasn’t her brother’s sturdy casket. She peered into the hole. Gabe lay there, broken, helpless, moaning in pain. A broken arm, from the looks of it. He’d live. Alex kicked a stray clod of earth; it landed on Gabe’s torso. “We’re through.” As Alex stepped away from the grave and started walking back towards the sunny parking lot, she looked over at the backhoe. The keys still hung in the ignition. The thought that crossed her mind made her shudder.

    She called 911 and kept on walking.

  6. KathleenMK says:

    Holly ~~ I like this Alex. You had me thinkin’ she was gonna use the keys! Bravo.

    Write On,

    Kathleen


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