Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #613

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. Valor
  2. Youthful
  3. Zest
  4. Worthy
  5. Unperturbed
  6. Suffused
  7. Poise
  8. Meaningful
  9. Liberate
  10. Kindness

10 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #613”

  1. Chet says:

    The toddler ran through the park with such unnatural poise that I felt as though I had stumbled upon a new species; an antelope-boy bounding across the grass. His arms flew up so his hands could grasp the slices of sunlight that cut through the leaves overhead. His stumpy legs pumped his little body up and down like a cork on the ocean. So suffused with meaningful innocence was his concentration that I thought to see him would liberate the cramped, caged heart of even the most unyielding misanthrope.

    What made me so privileged, I wondered, so worthy to be witness this child’s unfiltered zest? ‘Worthy’ was not an adjective most people would assign to me.

    A woman in a tan overcoat and simple pillbox hat stood about ten feet up the rise, watching. She waved her arms to encourage him each time he paused, the way a farm girl might shoo on a wayward goose. Her back was to me and if she was aware that I was there, she was unperturbed. Her nonchalance triggered an urgency in me. We were the only ones in this corner of the park and I felt I should warn her that she must be more careful with her treasure. Explain to her, in the least alarming way I could manage, that even on a sparkling day like this, there were still men at large in the world, men like I had been, for whom the happiness of others was something to quash. But I hesitated. She was so happy and I knew the reaction I could expect if I brought my sunken face and dingy suit closer.

    The boy reached the far end of his travel and turned. Facing his mother, he leaped as high as he could go, arching his tiny body so hard that he fell backward onto the grass. He cried out, tentative at first as if testing for the response he would receive and then, seeing that it attracted her attention, opening his mouth in a full-throated wail. His mother left her purse where it lay on the lawn beside her and ran to her boy. I caught sight of her face then and thought she was surprisingly youthful to have such a child. She reminded me of someone else I’d know, young and leading a little boy by the hand.

    Perhaps that was why I could summon a moment of uncharacteristic valor, a feeling to do some kindness. Without thinking about how it might look, I hurried down the rise. I lifted her purse by the strap with my pinkie finger so as to leave as little of me as possible on it and hurried after.

    “Here miss,” I said, putting it down next to her. “Shouldn’t leave your things unattended. You can’t be too careful these days, even in a place as lovely as this.”

    Then I knelt down and slipped my hands under the boy’s arms. Keeping them flat at planks, I set him back on his feet.

    “Now young sir, you mustn’t cry. Is that any way for a swift animal of the jungle, a gazelle or an antelope, to carry on? I saw you running wild there, young sir, and the wild things shed no tears.”

    “I’m not a gazelle,” the boy said, pouting. “I’m a lion!” He arched his fingers like claws and shook them at me. “Grrrr!”

    I leaned back, feigned horror, and returned as much space as I could to them both. “Then I must fly for my life! For I am but the prey of that noble beast”

    I glanced at the mother then and the mix of her emotions, gratitude, hope perhaps, but crossed with worry about what I might want from them.

    “I see a great spirit in him,” I said. “I pray that all your wishes for him come true.”

    Then I turned and left quickly, hurrying towards the church that stood across the street from the park. I felt a sudden desperate desire to throw myself on the floor before the altar, to beg that the chalice might be brought to my lips at last and the dry sponge of my soul be filled.

  2. […] flash fiction inspired by Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #613 and the words: Valor, […]

  3. Kami cocked her head at the handsome, youthful face on the screen, at eyes that radiated kindness. She zoomed in on the photo until she could make out the name on the badge: Lieutenant Ari Zartman. He was wearing his dress uniform, but grinning at a little blonde girl perched on the crook of his arm. She held his face between her tiny hands, her lips puckered and poised to give him a kiss. Such a zest for life, those two. What had she ever done to be worthy of them? Kami wondered. .

    “I had to write,” he said, in his message. “I hope you don’t mind. I hope we can have a meaningful relationship. Are you as sweet as you look in your profile pic?”

    Kami inhaled and let the air out of her lungs slowly, through pursed lips. She looked at glass-covered shadowbox on the wall, with its triangular-folded flag. “No,” she typed back.

    A sleepy little girl, unperturbed and suffused with clean, fragrant warmth from her bubble bath, stood in the doorway. “Mommy?”

    “Teeth brushed, Rache?” Kami asked, her voice cracking with tension. She clicked the Report link, wishing there were a greater crime she could choose from the list than “Impersonating someone I know.” And that wouldn’t do, either, because Ari wasn’t there, anymore, to confirm or deny her claim. “Fraud or scam,” she chose, for the seventh time this month. Lord, liberate me from hate, she pleaded silently.

    The child nodded. “Teef brushed. Will you tell me a story?”

    Kami nodded. She would tell Rachel the story about the King who loved his Queen and his little Princess, who would one day grow up to slay dragons and run the country. Neither of them ever got tired of that one, and to Rachel’s delight, Kami never, ever, said, “The End.”

    Cross-posted at https://jahangiri.us/2020/stolen-valor/

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