Creative Copy Challenge # 655

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. Curriculum
  2. Help
  3. Teach
  4. Study
  5. Write
  6. Paragraph
  7. Essay
  8. Short
  9. Story

Test


32 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge # 655”

  1. tanjamaltija says:

    I’m frazzled, and my brain’s fried.

    How do they expect us to wade through the curriculum in this abysmal heat? It’s not as if everyone can afford a summer cottage – or even air conditioning. All this fan is doing is regurgitating the heat, and I cannot open the window because the mozzies will attack.

    I flunked my English Literature… again. Help! How am I going to explain this to my mum? She with the cum laude PhD in English Language and Literature in a Didactic Perspective from the
    Charles University Faculty of Education – she who thinks that I should be able to write an essay of 1,000 words about the use of cutlery in Chaucer off the top of my head, or a short story about what would have happened had Juliet not died along with Romeo…throushe who has already told me she expects me to teach at the self-same university where she does.

    Oh, drat, she will have a good and proper hissy fit. She’s going to take away my Tablet – said she would. She’ll kill me – she said so herself! Such joy having a University Don for a parent – one who would rather walk through fire than let any kid of her show her up.

    I wish I’d found time to study. But now it’s too late for regrets. How I wish I’d never attended the Zoom Party on the eve of the test. It didn’t even occur to me to put water in the vodka bottle.

    It’s hot. I’d take another shower, but I can’t be bothered to.

    Oh, good heavens, what do I do now? I could say nothing… but she has to virtually sign the report sheet. She’s going to see the lovely paragraph of put-downs the lecturer wrote about my lack of motivation and laziness. Oh, the irony of home-schooling that I so wanted, before it became an enforced reality…

  2. Chet says:

    I made a *study* of daddy during my formative years so I knowed there was no way he did it. But I also knowed he would never allow his second wife – you, Greta – to walk the plank the way you deserved. So when Mr. Jim Bones, the prosecutor, made him that offer, I knew he’d take it.

    And I knew he’d turn to me to *help* him write the *short* *essay* the judge required, because I was the only one in the family who took education seriously.

    ‘Don’t work yourself too hard on it,’ Mr. Pancras, daddy’s lawyer, said. Mr. Bones and Judge Junklet, was out to *teach* folks here-bouts a lesson and nothing we put in daddy’s *story* would change what was to come.

    Ah, but that *paragraph* we wrote, it was beautiful, wasn’t it? You remember? You was there, after all. His love for his family and community and, most especially you, Greta. How he hadn’t intended to disturb the city’s tranquility and he apologized in all sincerity to everyone, especially you Greta. How he hoped his life would, in some small way, make amends.

    I thought it was gonna rip my heart outta my chest, writing those words. But I stuck it out because I knew it would give him peace and he so wanted to believe.

    Didn’t stop you and your kin from taking all the money and burning the house to claim the insurance and shoveling us kids off to aunts and uncles, did it? Not for a second.

    Daddy still walked the plank, with chains around his feet, and he’s still down there with all the others who tried to change things around here. Part of the *curriculum*, Judge Junklet liked to say.

    But oh my, how I do go on sometimes. I’ve said enough. I’ll just step aside now and let gravity do its work. Oh, but if you see Mr. Bones and the judge down there, you do be sure and tell them both that I said ‘hi.’

  3. KathleenMK says:

    When we TEACH the CURRICULUM, we HELP. Your attention to your students always inspired me to see my pupils in a different light.

    I HELP others, after much STUDY about how to WRITE, with their ESSAY, SHORT STORY, instruction manuals, novels, trilogies – ‘One PARAGRAPH at a time,’ like Professor Joyce recommended as a reachable goal.

    You showed so much joy in learning the difference in writing styles. There are so many differences between the legal writing and manuscripts meant to entertain or inspire.

    Will I pass the TEST as I write your obituary? I hope so.

  4. Did mine fall into spam, Kathleen?

  5. babswh says:

    All she wanted to do was Teach. She loved planning a Curriculum for the students. Her Essay expressed her love of Helping the students Study how to Write and, the proper form of the Paragraph. The Test would be a Short Story about their summer vacation. She knew it would Help them to write about something they enjoy. She was looking forward to hearing about their summer adventures.

  6. mistyfan says:

    My ESSAY hit my desk with a slap. I looked down and a tear rimmed. My pride stung, and I swallowed those tears down quick. I wasn’t going to cry in front of everyone in class.

    “You call that an essay, boy?” My TEACHER’S voice boomed on my eardrums. He scowled over me, his lips almost curling in a sneer. “A dragon meeting a dinosaur? What sort of nonsense is that?”

    The class turned to ice. Barking Barclay, the teacher from the dark ages, ought to be in a museum. SHORT on imagination, even shorter on temper, and a CURRICULUM full of study, STUDY and more study. It was a wonder he didn’t do it all in Latin or something.

    Everyone stared at me, but nobody moved, nobody made a sound. Nobody ever did when old Barker was in one of his tempers. I could feel secret sniggers from the meaner boys, hovering like vultures drooling to feast on my final fate.

    Old Barker jabbed a finger at me and said, “With all that nonsense in your head, you couldn’t WRITE a decent PARAGRAPH, much less a good STORY, boy!”

    To my relief, he then strode back to his desk without another word. He went off a kind of snooty huff, as if it were beneath him.

    Now, perhaps I ought to thank old Barker for the HELP he gave me that day. You might say he gave me a TEST of determination, sticking to it, and say to those who sneer at you that you’re going to show ‘em. It was the spur for my first children’s book: Danny the Dragon and Terry the T-Rex.

    In your face, Barking Barclay!


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