Creative Copy Challenge #676

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, short story, poem or progressive story line!
Before you finish writing and enter your submission try CAPITALIZING the challenge words in you piece.

If you’ve missed previous writing prompts, feel free to work on them and post what you’ve written in that challenge comment box.

Don’t forget, feedback is of value to all CCCers so if you like something, drop a note for the author to see.

Write On!

  1. Athletic
  2. Basketball
  3. Courtside
  4. Meldrop
  5. Dribble
  6. Agelast
  7. Pot-valor
  8. Hardwood
  9. Hoop
  10. Point-guard

#creativecopychallenge #memoir #writers block

14 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge #676”

  1. KathleenMK says:

    “His ATHLETIC prowess is …” the BASKETBALL coach began searching for words COURTSIDE and parent-side.

    They both watched the gangly teen DRIBBLE the ball on the HARDWOOD with a hula HOOP around his waist.

    The dad looked on, serious expression.

    The other coaches weren’t kidding this man is the epitome of an AGELAST. I mean… he’s not a man who looks like he ever laughs. He doesn’t even look like he knows how to crack a smile.

    “Do you think he could be a POINT-GUARD?” the father asked.

    “He might be able to be a POINT-GUARD on a water polo team,” the words escaped the coach’s mouth before he realized he spoke the words aloud. Sweat beaded on his brow.

    The dad shook his head as he watched his son, face awash with sweat and evidence of MELDROPs coming from his nose.

    “Sadly the only team he could play on might be a POT-VALOR team. But traveling to Africa for the games would be expensive.”

    The coach looked over at the dad to see a loving frustration on the man’s face.

    “Thanks coach. Thanks for lettin’ him try out. Just getting to try out will have validated his love for the game. And … thanks.”

    “Hey, look at him spin!”

    “Yes, I see it, but it wasn’t his intention,” the father said, shaking his head.

    “My wife teaches on a different HARDWOOD. She teaches dance, including ballet. Maybe she can help your boy focus and harness his desires to preform and after he learns to get his muscles to do what he wants them to do…. You know, get those feet to move in a helpful way, and get those arms under control… maybe he will be able to come on back and achieve that B-Ball goal of his!”

    Was that a kindness and encouragement the dad was hearing? Yes, yes it was. The dad looked over at the coach.

    “Do you think it would help?”

    “I know I send a lot of football student’s to her classes… it helps them,” the coach encouraged.

    “Okay.” Desperate to help his son find help and success he pulled out his phone. “Can you give me her number so I can get the boy over there…?”

    “You betcha.” The coach accepted the man’s cell phone and punched in the number. “I will let her know to expect your call.” Coach placed a hand on the dad’s shoulder, “And next week, if your son would like to, he can come try out for the mascot position and do that until he gains control over those limbs.”

  2. “We want to level the playing field,” said George Scootch, CEO, at the inaugural meeting of the Committee for Mandatory Fun. The executives present nodded agreement as George broke out the libations and snacks. He wasn’t much of a stickler for his own zero-tolerance policy on alcohol, but having one he could break and enforce against anyone who dared to challenge him gave him pleasure.

    “Mm. Level playing field. What does that look like, George?” asked Lynn, his Chief of Staff and long-suffering agelast, always tasked with secretarial or note-taking duties. Lighten up, Lynn. It’s because you have the best hand-writing, of course. Not because you’re a woman. Every time George said that, he winked at her. She was beginning to wonder if he had a nervous twitch.

    George pondered the problem. Not everyone at AltparaCorp had courtside seats to the NBA basketball games. A few of his pet managers had attended respectable schools on athletic scholarships; Joey had even been a point-guard, if memory served. But that was decades ago. On the upper end of middle age, most couldn’t find the hoop without a seeing-eye parrot to light the way in neon-colored plumage. And if one twisted a knee, pivoting too fast on the hardwood, AltparaCorp couldn’t afford the hit to its self-funded insurance program.

    That said, pride would not let George accept anything that might allow the junior execs to show up the senior leadership. They would have to invent a new game, with new rules: one that stacked the odds in their favor.

    “How about rugby?” suggested Neil. Neil was decidedly on the low-end of middle-age. George raised an eyebrow, contemplating his self-appointed “Czar of Marketing.” He was fairly sure Neil wouldn’t know rugby from a nice, civilized game of soccer, and was tempted to watch this idea play out. Maybe on the parking lot. Then again, the corporate games were co-ed. Maybe Neil understood the physicality of the sport, after all.

    “Young people are bored with rugby,” muttered Liz, rolling her eyes. “How about golf?”

    “Always with the sarcasm, Liz?” said Neil, pounding a fist on the table. “Isn’t golf a bit too violent for you?” He narrowed his eyes, his lips curling in a slow gotcha-grin as he savored the memory of Liz somehow managing to lose her grip on the driver at the sixteenth hole, four years ago. It had flipped into the air, slow-motion falling back to earth as stunned and horrified onlookers cringed. The driver struck Liz in the head, leaving her with a permanent, bald ridge where a titanium plate fashioned from the murderous club now held together pieces of her cranium.

    “How about the traditional game of beer pong?” offered Lynn.

    “Are you serious?” After the initial shock and outrage, the other members of the committee warmed to the idea. It had some merit. Most could drink their juniors under the table without slurring a word.

    “With one small twist, of course,” said Lynn, leaning back in her reclining conference chair with her fingers interlaced over her chest, “After a couple of rounds of beer pong, you hit the tennis court out back and see who can tell the most daring tales of derring-do while dribbling a ping pong ball around the clay. First to sweat a meldrop loses.”

    The men looked at Lynn with newfound respect. “Vicious, man,” murmured Neil, nodding. And just like that, Lynn was one of the boys.

    George poured Lynn two fingers of 30-year-old McCallan. One corner of Lynn’s lips curled upward, slyly, as she tossed back Scootch’s ‘spensive sippin’ Scotch like it was swamp water. “Welcome to the team,” he said.

    His newfound admiration would turn to terror, soon enough. Lynn knew that the pot-valiant Scootch and his cronies would brag about their illicit boardroom exploits, regaling the entire company and AltparaCorp’s visiting shareholders with tales that were sure to hold up on, and in, court.

    Lynn’s game of choice was Chess.

  3. babswh says:

    The Point-Guard once again set up another basket. A quick Dribble and a pass and his teammate made the Hoop with ease. He loved Basketball. His Athletic build helped him get his team the plays they were hoping for in the game. They were on their way to the state championships. His teammates joked around Courtside as they neared the end of the game. The Agelast Point-Guard never laughed at their jokes. As soon as the game was over, you could hear his sneakers squeak across the Hardwood floor in his rush to the showers. He needed to get home before his father’s Pot-valor caused more trouble with the neighbors. His father was always fighting with the neighbors making it difficult to live in the neighborhood. As he walks in, he finds his father sleeping a Meldrop hanging from his face. A deep sigh escapes him as he realizes he can relax. He sat at his desk in his room, a smile creeps across his face. He can be proud of his Basketball performance. He hoped to receive a call from the recruiters that were at the game. It was his only chance out of this place.

    • KathleenMK says:

      Babswh – “Oh wow!” Is exactly what came out of my voice box as I read that last sentence. You had me mesmerized and then… scared for your unnamed young man.

      I did like the tell-tale description: … His father was always fighting with the neighbors making it difficult to live in the neighborhood….

      You conveyed so much in such a little space. Bravo.

      Write On,


  4. babswh says:

    I can’t see my post here HMM

  5. KathleenMK says:

    Babwsh ~ Let me take a look where it might be hiding. Found it! 🙂


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