Creative Copy Challenge #653

This is a writing prompt.
Take the 10 random words below and crush writer’s block and/or grow your creativity by creating a cohesive, creative short story!
Before you finish writing and enter your submission try highlight this week’s challenge words and click the bold button to make them stand out as this may help you determine if you forgot any words then copy and paste your writing in the comment section below.
If you’ve missed previous writing prompts, feel free to work on them and post what you’ve written in that challenge comment box.

Bolding the challenge words is not required sometimes clever CCC-er CAPITALIZE the challenge words in their piece, you can too.

  1. Foot
  2. Hand
  3. Finger
  4. Toe
  5. Arc
  6. Calf
  7. Hip
  8. Leg
  9. Rib
  10. Wrist

25 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge #653”

  1. tanjamaltija says:

    “Head, shoulder, knee and toe! Neck, waist, hip and calf! Chest, rib, hip, leg! Nose, wrist, chest, foot!”
    The P.E. teacher was adamant that the reflexes of his students would be in top form. He pointed his finger at those who missed an instruction, and, dejectedly, each pupil would go and stand against the wall.
    When only two of them were left, each pair of losers made an arc with their upstretched arms, joining hands, and the victors passed under it in triumph.
    You’ve got to hand it to him – this was a sly way to train them. He knew war was nigh.

  2. All day, it had taken him, it seemed, to travel the length of the patio. He had soldiered on, putting one foot in front of the other, to escape the punishing heat of the afternoon sun on scorching cement. “I’m impressed, Marty,” Stella said, sounding anything but. “I didn’t think you’d make it past the joint.” Stella sat on the cool, damp earth, where she’d been watching Marty from beneath the shady arc of spring leaves.

    Marty had to hand it to her: light-fingered Stella had stolen his heart. Now, he had to toe the line, even if it killed him. At this rate, he was pretty sure it would. Marty rolled off the cement, onto the damp, fragrant earth next to Stella. He flicked a wrist in her direction, as if to say, “It’s nothing.” It wasn’t ‘nothing,’ of course.

    Farmer McNulty’s calf was happily suckling at his mama’s teat while she absently swatted a horsefly from her hip with her tail. Who would have thought that the roan calf, newly born and trembling on shaky legs, had almost been the end of Marty? He felt as if he had a million legs, and every one of them ached. If only he could be sure he’d finally earned his Stella’s favor, Marty could die contented. If only she’d acknowledge the effort he’d made to cross the patio to be near her. As his eyes closed in exhaustion, he felt the ground vibrating and heard the delicate thumping of Stella’s little feet before she gave him a sharp peck and gulped him down, laughing as his thousand tiny toes tickled her gullet.

    The early bird catches the worm, but the patient one gets a real rib-tickler of a millipede.

  3. “Holy cow,” exclaimed Tyson. “That could be a person”.
    “You think?” asked Tom.
    “Look,” Tyson continued, “That has to be a LEG, there is a FOOT, going up to a CALF”.
    “Yeah,” tom agreed. “Where are the TOEs?”
    “Probably eaten by a coyote or something. I bet if we dug a bit we would find everything. HIPs, the ARCing RIBS…” Tyson trailed off in thought.
    Tom said, “Maybe we can find the HAND, or a WRIST bone, or even a FINGER!”
    “No,” said Tyson, “This we can’t mess with. This is a person. A real person. We have to call the police.”
    Tom looked at his friend for a long time and finally nodded his head and pulled out his phone.

  4. KathleenMK says:

    As her FOOT made contact with the dirt, he noticed her LEGs innately adjust to her weight change. When she graceful transfer most of her 135 ponds to her left lower limb it caused her TOEs to curl as they dug into the loose pebbles beneath her.

    “Oh that could ruin your pedicure,” he said as the fringe of hair above his eyes ARCed.

    No one could hear his audible observation from his perch, just over three-quarters of a mile away.

    “What is she stopping for?”

    She reached down.

    He adjusted the focus nobs on the binoculars he held.

    Her HAND came into focus. He watched the sinew under her tan skin that covered her digits. He smiled.

    One day soon I will hold those HANDs up close and kiss them.

    He witnessed her FINGERs make contact with the grey … of …. He did not know. He saw her flanges’ disappear, as did her WRIST, into the curly coat of …. He widened his field of view to see the dog.

    “Well, that’s a big boy. But what kind of dog is that? Fluffy. Pretty. Big – standard size. Beard. Short tail. It would be a Giant Schnauzer or a Bouvier des Flanders. She’s smiling. Is that guy coming on to her?” The watcher tightened his grip on the field glasses.

    “She seems to like the dog. Maybe I should get her a dog. That way she will be more comfortable when I … when I take her to the place I made for her.”

    She crouched and let her knees touch the dirt, coming to a rest with her backside on one CALF.

    He salivated as he focused his view on her glutes, thigh, and CALF. He couldn’t help but focus on the muscles that held her weight. The smooth muscles that, due to what he guessed was a less than eight percent body fat, allowed her skin to lay taunt around her ever adjusting muscles.

    “Looks like your HIP still bothers you my dear,” the watcher said as if she could hear.

    “I wonder … did your unfortunate fall … make your RIBs sore too?” His mind darted back to the paperboy knocking the object of his affection down two days earlier.

    He won’t do that again my dear. I made sure of that. I know you will appreciate that. Yes I do.

    • babswh says:

      An interesting story .. I wonder what happens next

    • :shudder:

      I read this yesterday, and it’s probably why I stopped dead in my tracks, while walking at the park, and forced the (perfectly pleasant) gentleman following too closely to pass me.

      It was a bit awkward, but I assured him it was me, not him, and we laughed about it. Still, who walks less than 6′ behind someone at an uncrowded park, these days?

      • KathleenMK says:

        My goodness! Glad you’re okay.


      • babswh says:

        would make me shudder too

        • It’s funny (not in the comedic sense) how often we women will turn ourselves inside out to give men benefit of the doubt and try to turn something like that into a benign or even friendly encounter – to put an innocent spin on things. It WAS weird. He did SEEM perfectly nice. He certainly acted like it when I stopped dead in my tracks and moved aside to let him pass. But seriously, who DOES that?

  5. babswh says:

    His Hand touched her Wrist and ran up her arm to her neck. Then he traced the Arc of her back to her Hip. Moving down the Leg, slowly moving down her Calf, he continued to the Foot. By the time he reached her Toe, she was moaning, ready to head to the bedroom with him. Then he tickled her Rib with his Finger and she was laughing hysterically. The mood was broken.

    • KathleenMK says:

      Babswh ~
      Snicker, Snicker, Snicker.

      Write On,


    • Hahaha! I used to write comedic erotica. Not intentionally, but it always took a comedic turn. A reader laughed and said, “This is great, but LAUGHING isn’t exactly the goal with this genre, you know?” What’s funny is that I can’t be “funny on command.”

      • babswh says:

        I can’t be funny on demand either ….

        • I’m glad it’s not just me. It’s just odd, how often people laugh and say that I’m funny – but then I know I couldn’t do stand-up if my LIFE depended on it. When I try to write something serious, the comedic side comes out to play. When I try to write something FUNNY, it ends up being set in a funeral parlor.

          Welcome to the club. We meet at the Literary Funeral Home every Wednesday. Bring out your dead and nearly dead prose…

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