In the comments, use the 10 random words below to create a cohesive, creative short story tying all the words together. And remember: after you finish, 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 some challenges, go back and try those too).
- Dagger
- Hyperactive
- Freeway
- Would I lie to you?
- Thorn
- Beauty
- The voice
- Vanilla
- I dare you
- Skeleton
NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks.
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Here is my quick and short submission for today:
Would I lie to you? As I was driving down the freeway the hyperactive beauty riding next to me exclaimed in the voice of a skeleton, “I dare you to stab me with that dagger shaped like a thorn.”
I responded, just to keep her quiet, “Just as soon as I finish this vanilla ice cream dear.” I knew that she would move on to another weird thought soon, and that once I got her to the asylum she would be treated.
Steve, I KNEW you’d be first. I always enjoy seeing your entries. I really liked this one.
Thanks.
Shane,
Thanks, this one just seemed to flow right from my fingertips, with very little thought. The bolding of the words and phrases took longer than the actual writing.
I love how short and sweet that was, yet it quite effectively tied all the words together.
Great job!
Thanks, like I said this one just flowed, very little thinking involved.
Love it, Steve. I thought you were just throwing the words on the screen until the last sentence tied it all together. That was super!
I blame Kelly for the inspiration for this one
~~~~~~~~
I’d rather wear a wreath of thorns
Or star in some smutty gay porn
Or run myself through with a rusty dagger
Than carry this bag labeled biohazard
Six shit sticks
Six shit sticks
Why would I lie to you?
Six shit sticks
Six shit sticks
You’ll need them when you pooh
What kind of sick blood test is this?
What are those funny wooden sticks?
Let me soften my voice
You ain’t got no choice
You’ll need these for yo’ stool collections
You okay there sir, you just turned white like a skeleton
Six shit sticks
Six shit sticks
Why would I lie to you?
Six shit sticks
Six shit sticks
Go ahead laugh, I dare you!
As I drive down the freeway
I remember the voice, such beauty.
This ain’t ice cream and vanilla
If you’ hyperactive, let me warn ya’
Six shit sticks
Six shit sticks
I ain’t gonna’ lie to you
Six shit sticks
Six shit sticks
Nothing worse than scrapin’ pooh.
This song begs for a punk band to belt it out.
Awesome!
Perhaps the Foo Fighters!
foo fighters! rotfl
Poo Fighters.
POO FIGHTERS!
HAHAHAHAHA…
Awesome, Shane!
Okay, I’m reeeeally not sure I want to be blamed for this.
ROFL all the same.
PROGRAMMING NOTE
Type your submission first
THEN, go back and bold. If not, the bolding seems to get stuck and you start typing all bold and it’s hard to get the sucker to unbold.
“Would I lie to you?” he asked as tears began to free themselves of her lower lid. The voice in her head told her he wasn’t. He had been there through all the crap her soon to be ex had put her through, constant lies stabbing at her like a dagger. She looked over the brim of the vanilla latte she was sipping and couldn’t believe his masculine beauty had eluded her all this time, all the time that sorry excuse for a husband had been a thorn in her side. In that moment she knew where she belonged, sorrow, regret and pain were replaced by sweet hyperactive hope and love. “Run away with me… I dare you.” He stared back at her before smiling and reaching across the table to take her hand. An hour later and they were on the freeway, not running from the past, but toward the future. Leaving all their problems to fade like a skeleton in the desert.
Lily. That was awesome. Tight, powerful writing. Very well done and welcome to the fun. And your website! Anything with witchery in it gets my curiosity going.
Everyone, welcome Lily aboard!
Thanks, I’m working on my first fiction project at the minute. have published a few short witchy related guides and one collective effort to raise money for Haiti. This is like a warm up session before I go home and knock out another few thousand words lol
Mission accomplished for us them! It was my hope that people would get inspired and be able to write their other material from a different place after doing a challenge (a more creative place).
Nice work, Lily!
I like the imagery a lot!
Welcome, Lily!
That was wonderful. Thank you for joining us.
Go ahead. (I dare you.)
All true beauty is accompanied by a thorn, or so I’ve heard. Your gorgeous, thorny soul is on my mind as I slice up the freeway in my dagger of a car. The voice—your voice—so vanilla, belies your true nature. A hyperactive skeleton whose favorite phrase was “Would I lie to you?” Yes, you would. Yes, you did. Will you try again? Go ahead. I dare you.
DAMN! That was super good, Victoria!
Awesome.
‘All true beauty is accompanied by a thorn’
Ain’t that the truth! lol
Nice! Very kickass at the end.
Slice up the freeway with my dagger of a car!
My favorite line of the day so far.
“Aw, come on. Would I lie to you?” James grinned into the phone.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” The voice held a touch of amusement. “You may be a real beauty on a hit, Jamie, but every rose has a thorn.”
“And I suppose you’re as sweet as the scent of vanilla,” he quipped back.
“Like I just said, we all have a skeleton in our closet. Listen, are you going to schmooze me all day or get on with the hit? We have to take this one down.” All business, all the time. “Just remember to follow the plan. Cross the freeway, make sure no one sees the dagger and keep your hyperactive little brain in check, would you?”
“Yeah, yeah. No problem.” She was no fun at all, and James rolled his eyes. “Hey, when I get back from the hit, you and I are going to celebrate. I’ll take you out on the town.”
“I dare you,” she shot back, knowing there was no way James could resist.
He grinned. “You’re on, toots. See you in an hour.”
And he hung up the phone.
As always James, you make my day with these gems.
You know, it took me a while to figure out what your assassin series reminded me of, and I finally realized what it was the movie Grosse Point Blank! Ever see it? If not, get it. You’ll love it.
The actual inspiration comes from our Drive-By Shooting series for web design (and upcoming web copy series!) published to our blog.
But cool about the movie – I’ll check that out!
I’ll check your series out, too. Thanks.
Gross Pointe Blank is pretty funny.
I’ve STILL not watched that Canadian movie you recommended like six months ago, though it is dangling on the queue somewhere.
C’est vrai, dear James. I know neither one of us can resist a dare.
This one’s got a nice mood to it. (And I love that the hitmen have jumped off MWP. Too funny!)
There is nothing like the beauty of one perfect red rose. We sometimes forget to stop the freeway of our lives long enough to hear the voice of nature telling us to quiet the hyperactive schedule that envelopes most of us until we are nothing but a skeleton! I dare you to sit back, think of the blossom but ignore the thorn and breathe in the intoxicating vanilla perfume that can cut through your consciousness like a velvet dagger. I dare you to put all your worries and frenetic schedule aside long enough to enjoy one of life’s often-ignored simple pleasures. It can change your day! Would I lie to you? I think not! I’m a florist and I know what I’m talking about!
BAMM!!!!
Margaret, this is by far my favorite submission from you.
Just this morning I was driving in the suck (my word for traffic), and I noticed the sunrise and thought to myself, “I bet 99% of the people driving this road don’t even notice it.”
Great job.
Thanks, Shane. I really am a florist and do take time to smell the roses! Being in the sucky traffic really is awful. I had to go to the flower market in LA yesterday and did not realize until I got home that I had left my keys there, so I had to drive all the way back and sit in traffic both ways again! YUK.
The “I’m a florist” on the end made me laugh. It also made me want to buy flowers from the guy who sells them outside the metro station.
Mrs. Mica, what are you waiting for. Just do it.
Our very own Sean Platt and his wife met that way. Read the story here: http://cindyplatt.com/education/happy-birthday-sean/
Yes, there is. How about the beauty of a perfect Amnesia rose, or a Milva perhaps?
Cool write, Ma.
Last challenge’s sorrow over a deathtrap of course resulted in a skeleton. “I dare you,” our heroine spat as the ME removed the dagger. Turning Det. Thorn she continued, using the voice, “Would I lie to you?”
Thorn gazed at the hyperactive beauty, shaking his head, then exited, driving south on the freeway. Nibbling on a vanilla wafer he wondered…
You may turn me into a novelist after all
Great write Anne. Don’t forget us when you make it big!
Opening with, “Last challenge’s sorrow over a deathtrap”
Simply too cool.
The skeleton was scary, “Would I lie to you?” he said.
I stared at him, no flesh on bones, the dude was surely dead.
I did not believe the voice of course, like daggers stabbing truth.
He told me I was on the freeway, flying past my youth.
Beauty fades, vanilla skin can one day fade to gray.
Live each hour knowing you cannot repeat a day.
Don’t fly through your life too hyperactive to enjoy.
The best of life is possible for every girl and boy.
Squander time, you’ll have a thorn beneath your being, it’s true.
The skeleton said I could do it.
His last words were, “I dare you!”
How the hell did you think of this?! It’s as if you are some type of super-skilled writer dad or something. You brought the awesome!
Very cool…I’m a sucker for poems
First read I liked the content. Second read I realized there was rhyme and meter too. Awesome sauce.
Fun, Sean! Syllable Soup strikes again! xoxo mom
Yikes, vanilla skin fades to grey. What a cheery thought!
Thanks everyone!
I’ve wanted to try one in rhyme for a while, but this was the first morning I actually took the time to do it. It’s one of my favorite ways to write, but I’ve never done it with restrictions before. Twas a lot of fun.
There must be something in the water because I couldn’t wait for this challenge to pop up so I could try it in rhyme, too!
Excellent, Sean, and wise to boot!
“I stared at him, no flesh on bones, the dude was surely dead.”
Oh, man. That’s great.
Sean, I love it! Not a wasted word in it and a moral to the story that almost made me teary.
I’d better [finish reading these comments and] go seize the day!
Kool Aid: Thanks! I really enjoyed writing it in rhyme – I might do the next one the same way, though I did like the long form of Monday’s. We’ll see, I suppose.
Stacey: Smiling, I say thanks!
Kelly: Go now or Father Time will be angry with you!
Have a great weekend everyone!
“Would I lie to you?” I pressed down harder on the pedal, swerving to avoid other cars as I sped down the freeway. Yes, yes she would. And now she would pay. The voice had sounded so innocent, she must have been laughing at me the whole time. Discovering her betrayal felt like a dagger in my back. I’d always thought that was a cliché, but it fit surprisingly well.
Of course I have a skeleton or two in my past, but nothing I kept from her would hurt her, wouldn’t have if she hadn’t been playing me this whole time. My hyperactive brain ran through methods of dispatching her. No, I wouldn’t kill her at all. Fairy-tale punishments came to mind. Take a thorn and put out her bright blue eyes. Ruin her beauty by carving up that delicate face. Put her in a barrel of nails and roll her down the street.
I pulled out of the reverie and concentrated on the task at hand. Get home, find her, end this. “I dare you to fight back,” I thought angrily. Park on the street, not in the driveway, easier to drive off, can’t get blocked in. Tuck my 35mm, complete with silencer, into the back of my pants, pull my jacket down to hide it. Ready.
She was at the door to meet me. She must’ve known. Pushing back my rage, I drew her into into one long, last kiss. Her long blonde hair brushed against my cheek. She smelled like vanilla, pure and innocent. Her hand ran down my back.
“Goodbye,” she whispered. Then I heard the click.
I love this!
Damn! Girl. I didn’t expect to read Tarantino this morning. Cool write.
nice. very nice. i love the ending!
Sorry, properly formatted is below & I’ve requested deletion for this one. I’m a hand-coding kinda gal.
I went in an fixed the original for you.
OH MY GOD! That was so bleepin’ awesome Mrs. Micah. I believe this is your best submission. It just feels like you had fun writing this, and I’d bet it flowed effortlessly. Sometimes when I read these things I get the feeling the author wrote the submissions on a weird type of autopilot. Awesome.
Thanks! I feel like after the last two submissions I should qualify that I’m not a violent person with revenge fantasies.
No, but your writing is a great public service message for men to watch how they treat their Venetians!
His seductive whisper, “You’re special! Would I lie to you?” echoed in her memory. She recalled his gaze, piercing her soul with dagger-like precision. For a moment, she wavered in her resolve to follow through. Suddenly, the voice of reason abandoned her, and she felt the other impulse. The familiar one, the one that said, “I dare you…”
They said she was crazy, that her imagination was hyperactive, and she was off her rocker. She knew differently. She felt certain that her task was to remove each thorn from the beauty of the world. When she was finished, only the wondrous things would remain, like the smell of vanilla wafting under her nose. Yes, he was only a thorn, an obstacle in her journey down life’s freeway.
Now, what was she going to do with the skeleton?
Karetha, your writing piercing the soul with dagger-like precision!
Awesome!
Off the 204 freeway resides my sanctuary; my personal escape from the world, Veronica’s Diner. Pulling open the door sets off an array of bells whose noise notifies the world of my entrance. As I slowly walk back to my table, I take note of the regulars. Sal, the mechanic who’d been a thorn in my side ever since he hadn’t invited me to join the bowling league. Midge, a pleasant woman who has the voice of an angel and the sex appeal of a potato. A handful of others sprinkled throughout my little diner. I slid into the red leather booth and awaited Frannie, the love of my life. She works at the diner I dare you to find a more perfect woman—her beauty is unmatched. I get lost in the ways about her. The way her skirt flirts with her ankles. The way she winks at me after pouring my coffee each morning. The way she twirls her brown hair around her fingers when we chat. The way her…
Like a dagger to my soul, a redheaded, hyperactive waitress named Lorie interrupts me with a cup of coffee. “Honey you look like a skeleton, are you sure I can’t get you some vanilla puddin’?” Looking up at her I smile faintly. “No, no. Coffee will do.Where’s Frannie?”
“Aw, sugar she passed on over 3 years ago.”
“What, are you sure?”
“Honey, would I lie to you?”
“No, no I suppose not.” My head drops as I watch tears start to blur my newspaper. A soft voice pulls me out of the darkness. “Honey, can you order me a coffee?” Swinging my head around I come face to face with an angel; with Frannie. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks. I manage to say “I’m just so happy to see you my dear.”
AWESOME!!!!
Christine. Welcome to the CCC! Fantastic piece. You are skilled with words my friend.
Everybody welcome Christine to the fun shack.
ps. The sex appeal of a potato!!!!! Too funny.
Love it!
Welcome. That was awesome.
David
Oh, yeah, that definitely rocked, Christine. Looking forward to more from you!
Funny how these words seem to have brought on so many variations of love stories, when there’s no love in the words, really.
She opened her freeway for Bill and he darted his dagger into her beauty.
Rachel cried out in hyperactive ecstasy and pulsated her vanilla body with his jerking. She moaned.
Unfulfilled for months, her skeleton needed that prick. She needed his thorn inside of her. She needed to feel alive and was grateful Bill was willing to oblige.
The next day, Rachel’s coworker, Melinda, poked her head inside the cubicle and, upon seeing Rachel’s glazed eyes, giggled.
“Would I lie to you?“ asked Melinda. “Was he all that you wanted?
“I dare you to find me someone better,” Rachel coyly replied, twirling her reddish-brown curls, recalling his voice after they lay in bed and spooned before doing it again.
The voice, his voice, was still with her. Rachel smiled.
Oh shit, Ari!
I have tears coming out of my eyes. People around me are demanding to know what’s so funny. Great write.
Humor? I didn’t intend that to be funny. What’s so funny?
for a start the comparing notes convo. of the two women would have gone on for at leat 12 paragraphs PMSL!
If you read it in a Stephen Wright voice, it is.
So I see.
The extravagant interior designer Clyde hired walked into the apartment, took one look and announced drily, “This is too vanilla.” Sonya tried not to look devastated. She fought hard to stifle the voice inside her head, “You bitch.” She smiled falsely and said sweetly, “I dare you to tell me what you really think.” They both laughed politely.
Sonya was overwhelmed by New York’s hyperactive lifestyle. Ever since Clyde had been transferred she felt like she was accelerating down the freeway to disaster. Glancing at his exorbitant jeweled dagger collection, she couldn’t decide whether to plunge one into that bitch’s heart or his.
Sonya longed for the quiet beauty of her vintage yard back home. It was filled with apple and plum trees, perennials of all colors for all seasons. She craved the prickly touch of the ripe raspberry bush thorns.
“Would I lie to you?” Clyde had asked. ”It will be great!”
“Sure,” she replied, knowing they couldn’t build a new life on the skeletons of deception.
I don’t know what to say other than that was so good, Loran. I’m addicted to your submissions.
Why, thank you, kind sir!
I’m addicted to writing them.
Not to be a thorn in your side or a skeleton in your closet, but I dare you to imitate the voice of a hyperactive midget as he accidentally drops his dagger-shaped vanilla ice cream cone into his lap while driving on the freeway. Go ahead. It’s pure sonic beauty. Would I lie to you?
Hahahaha!
Jaced. You’re the man!!!!! That was outstanding. The visual! Get it out of my head! No, keep it there! Lots of laughs!
I love the ones that are so short. I dare you to do the next one in one sentence….
Are you daring Jaced or all of us?
not me…noooo not me…
Ooh, I love that dare! I don’t know that I could do one in a sentence, but I’d love to try.
Ok, in all honesty this may be junk, but as I read it aloud, I have to say that I really liked it. I hope y’all do, too.His eyes a dagger piercing her heart
“Would I lie to you?” he asked.
She felt her lips delicately part
“I dare you,” her voice rasped.
The voice tattered with emotion
The voice vanilla smooth
Her beauty an ocean.
Together they moved.
A passionate freeway,
Of hyperactive desire.
Together they entwined,
As vines on a wire.
The thorn of sunrise
Sheds light through the air,
And a skeleton of lies
Is dragged from its lair.
Kool Aid. What are you talking about?!!!!
You brought the AwesomeSauce with that one!
Do you give me permission to erase your opening paragraph of doubt? Let me know and I will.
Sure, you can delete it
“A passionate freeway,Of hyperactive desire.Together they entwined,As vines on a wire.”
BOOYAH!
The thorn of sunrise/ Sheds light through the air,/ And a skeleton of lies/ Is dragged from its lair.
OH! That is so fine! Bringing on the poetry wonderfulness here, Kool Aid. And such a complete story in four little stanzas. No pre-apologizing necessary at all!
Thank y’all ~ It’s just been so long – truly years – since I tried to write any poetry, I really didn’t know what to expect. Maybe I’ll try it again
“Would I lie to you?”
Carl rolls his eyes and quickly answers, “Yes.”
“O come on! Really it’s true, I dare you to try it.”
“Randy, there is no way you are going to get me to try that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, let’s see. There is the… remember the skeleton in my trunk when I went to pick up my parent’s at the airport, the fake dagger in my tire, putting up a sign with my cell phone number along the freeway; need I say more?”
A feigned look of hurt shot across Randy’s face. Then with the voice of a reformed-tv-evangelist he claims, “But I’ve changed. “ Seeing no change in Carl’s reaction, Randy sees a change in tactic is needed. “You have no sense of adventure, you’re life is so vanilla. Don’t you want to experience the fullness of life. Sometimes you have to look past the thorns to enjoy the beauty that is out there. ”
“Dude, I don’t care what you say, you have a hyperactive imagination if you think I am eating anything that you cooked!”
Jim, where did you come from!!!! Out of the blue you hit us with the goodness! Very funny. Loved the surprise food ending. Welcome to the club.
Sounds like a convo between me and my husband.
Hey Sonja. I know as a romance writer, you have at least one CCC submission in you!
Awesome punch line. Love it.
That was fun! I can totally see two friends who’ve known each other for a lifetime having this kind of conversation.
As I stepped into the empty shop and closed the door behind me, I listened to the bells jingle, announcing my arrival. It actually sounded cheery “Hello,” I called out almost too quietly, the voice of strength I expected to have, failed me. The shop itself was dead quiet. “Kalie, are you here?” I said a bit louder. She didn’t answer and so I strode to the back of the store, to the fiction section and flipped through a Paul Auster book. “Silver Dagger” by Dolly Parton was playing on the stereo above my head and the rhythm sounded so right on that heavy, heavy Friday morning.
The sound of her footsteps on the stairs up from the basement pulled me out of the twisting sentences, out of the whirling bluegrass, and back into the shop.
God, how am I going to do this?
We greeted each other with hugs and she held her vanilla-flavored coffee confidently. For being such a hyperactive kid, she was the definition of grace now, a true woman at 22. She walked easy and moved in only the most subtle, efficient ways. For a few minutes, I wasted time and let the moment dangle and grow, while she worked, stacking and straightening books, wiping down the counter-top.
“Honey, we have to talk,” I finally said and felt a thorn of pain rush into my head. My breathing suddenly got harder and harder, my pulse was racing out of control down a freeway and I knew that by tomorrow, I would be dead, and so I had to come completely clean. My sick mind was saying I dare you, but my broken heart was saying No, how dare you!
“Yes?” she asked and stopped her work, the beauty of her every pore, so suddenly obvious to me, was her mother’s doing. She would have been so proud.
“Would I lie to you?”
“Dad, never.”
“You know that fake skeleton I have at home, hanging in my study?”
Holy Hades! Once again Patrick, you amaze.
Whose bones were they man? The father or the mother? Is the speaker related to Kalie?
Must know.
The speaker is Kalie’s dad. As for the bones…well, that’s for you to decide. Thanks for always being so incredibly positive Shane. This is great.
I love your phrasing, very nice….but did you have to leave us hanging. I feel like that skeleton…:)
nice job! I can completely visualize it and I like the cliffhanger
Anybody notice that I’ve tried to use at least 1 song or album title in these challenges? Just curious.
I did. Totally not living up to the brand promise of “random.” Tsk, tsk.
“I dare you to kiss me again,” threatened Illiana.
“Don’t mind if I do, Baby Cakes!”
Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage, grabbed the Regulon beauty and laid another kiss on her that made her brain reach hyperactive speeds. She struggled at first, but like all his women, she succumbed to the awesomeness that ebbs from Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage.
Her kiss tasted like earth’s vanilla. Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage visited earth once in his early twenties. But the Prime Minister didn’t much appreciate what Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage did to his daughters.
Or his sisters.
Or his nieces.
Or his wife.
Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage was on the first class-five cargo cruiser taking off on the galactic freeway leaving earth.
Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage released the kiss and Illiana’s knees were weak. She had gone through a lot recently. She hired Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage to find a kidnapped diplomat she worked for. An Emissary from the planet Regulon. Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage found him but it was too late.
He was already dying. He described his killer as a woman with a thorn tattoo on her lower back. Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage thought it was sexy but didn’t share that piece of information with anyone. This went from a kidnapping to a murder. He needed to keep his information to himself. He didn’t know who he could trust.
With her boss now dead, Illiana was unemployed.
“Let’s go Sweet Lips. You can work for me.”
“Do you mean it?” the voice Regulon women had when desperate really turned Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage on.
“Would I lie to you, Hot Bottoms?”
Illiana turned to walk away. She looked back over her shoulder giving Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage a look that shook him to the core. He almost didn’t notice a thorn tattoo on her lower back. Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage sighed and pulled his blaster from his holster and shot her dead. Her alien body burnt to a crisp as her skeleton turned to ash and blew away into the Regulon night.
Love never comes easy for Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage.
Eric, you’re awesome dude. This was quite a funny read.
It was like a cross between the movies Airplane, Men In Black, and StarTrek.
Favorite line: Her kiss tasted like earth’s vanilla.
Tell me Shane.. Do you like movies about Gladiators?
Roger, Roger! What’s our Vector, Victor?
Huh?
Jaced. Don’t tell me you have not seen the movie Airplane? Get it yesterday!!!!
Airplane is a classic must see!
Auntie Em, Auntie Em, it’s a twister! Don’t call me Shirley. I picked a bad day to quit smoking…….
And don’t forget Young Frankenstein. Are you making yummy sounds?
Come on, dude! That’s Kareem’s line! “Huh?”
I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue…
Nah, it was McCrosky, “Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines.”
face/palm!!!! Sorry dude. I’m slipping.
I just want to wish you both good luck. We’re all counting on you.
Eric, I think “Mike Dagger, Intergalactic Man of Espionage” is one of the funniest phrases ever coined. And the more you repeated it… I felt like I was being tickled repeatedly. Wonderful.
Thanks Kelly. It was one of those audibles I pulled while writing the story. I didn’t want this story to be taken seriously and the repetition was a way to make it a parody of itself.
Worked perfectly.
I was driving down the freeway yesterday when a hyperactive driver yelled out his window, “I dare you to a race!” The voice sounded familiar; it was a voice I heard several weeks ago when walking down a lonely street in a strange part of town. Thing is, I saw a dagger carelessly sticking out from the backside of this guy’s jacket and when I saw his face, his face scared me, for it looked like a skeleton. I looked so hard at his face that I didn’t see the thorn in the rosebush as I passed by and it grazed my arm. But even though the thorn hurt my arm, I did take time to appreciate the beauty of the rose. But, I kid you not. It was not a vanilla kind of day. If anything, it was a Rocky-Road kind of day!
Remind me not to visit that street! Good write Toni.
ps. You forgot “Would I lie to you” though.
Awakening
The midnight sky arched over me as I lay in the summer darkness, caressed by August’s warm, nocturnal wind. The Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon like a great freeway of the heavens alive with racing stars so far away their speed was suspended, their brilliance muted to a glimmering vanilla veil smudged across the sky. The hyperactive summer rays of Helios our own very precious and closest star was gone, eclipsed by the great body of the planet that I could now feel curving away beneath my back.
“Let go…I dare you.”
The voice was clear and unmistakable and yet I was alone on the hillside pierced by the beauty of the night.
“I will hold you. Don’t be afraid. How would I lie to you?”
The night air became heavy like the weight of the sea pressing me into the earth until her body and mine were one and I was being carried into the sky. The winds of space eroded my flesh burning my being until my skeleton itself became the very bones of the earth. The air was gone and my breath was silenced.
“Are you ready?”
It came then. The dagger of light flashed across the sky slicing away the darkness and leaving a thorn of flame ablaze in my brain. My eyes were blind but my mind could see. See. I could see it all, All in the darkness. And then the spinning lights whirling away like a veil of mist from horizon to horizon. I could feel the earth curving beneath me and warm nocturnal wind. I was here. Again. But for one moment I knew. For one moment I felt the fierce embrace the stars endure and I will never leave home again.
Mary Ann, that was super. I’m going to have to read that a few more times just so I don’t miss anything. Very descriptive, too.
Beautifully written imagery.
Thank you both… I am enjoying this venue. Thank you shane et. al.
I agree, a very visual piece. Well done.
He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Would I lie to you?”
He had the voice of a born politician. Through the windows behind him, I could see movement on the freeway–the hyperactive dodging and weaving of vehicles as they jockeyed for the best position on the road. There was a surreal kind of beauty in their dance.
“They’ve been a thorn in your side for years.” I wasn’t going to come out and accuse him of murder, even though I’d seen the skeleton, unearthed from its shallow grave.
“Please. They were little more than background noise. As rebel groups go, they were vanilla. A few threats, some minor vandalism–I hardly noticed them.”
“Somebody noticed them. Enough to kill their leader.” He showed no emotion, but I didn’t expect him to. Come on, you bastard. Blink. I dare you.
I felt the dagger waiting in its sheath on my left wrist.
Stacey, that’s a great picture you painted for us.
Come on you bastard. Blink. I dare you is the money line.
Ooh. This one gave me shivers. Every word perfectly placed. Well done, Stacey.
(Glad I’m on vacation right now so I have enough time to catch up on the 82 million comments. I think #12 has produced the best stuff ever!)
I agree, both about Stacey’s perfect placement and the quality of #12’s submissions!
For me, the big challenge is to get the words to fit. If I get stuck on one, I’ll Google it to see if there’s an alternate meaning that doesn’t show up in the dictionary. Clobber (from the last challenge) really is a game. And I really am a word nerd. But don’t tell anyone.
1965-1966
Fifty-one tornadoes hit the ground on Palm Sunday. Fifty-one. Nearly two thousand people injured and nearly three hundred dead. That hyperactive weather wasn’t an accident. I know.
I stood on the shoulder of the freeway and watched the F4 roll into Northern Toledo, snapping photos, marveling at its dark beauty.
I had been waiting for it. It arrived two minutes later than planned.
On September 6, I checked in at the Le Pavillon Hotel on the French Quarter. On the 7th, after checking out, I grabbed a muffaletta and a vanilla coke from the Central Grocery. I bought a crummy dagger from a voodoo woman for a souvenir. Billion Dollar Betsy crushed the city on the 9th. I was on high ground.
That was about three weeks ago.
I made a telephone cal from the road. The voice on the other end belonged to Bish. He’d been a thorn in my side from time to time, but he had LBJ’s ear and he took care of us. He said that Castro was opening the gates, allowing wholesale emigration to the US. He was talking about a tropical storm somewhere between Havana and Miami in a few days.
I left for Holly Creek, Kentucky, for supplies.
Some hillbilly named Kenny White uncovered the asset a few weeks earlier. He was building a livestock pen under an outcropping and just happened upon it.
That’s the way it usually went. A kid buried a dog. A farmer pulled a stump. A mining operation uncovered one. People always talked about them, though. We always found out. We always took them.
White’s was about nine-feet tall. No horns. Fused jaw. Small feet. Slits where the eyes would’ve been. White had the full skeleton. Not as big as some, bigger than others. We used a twelve-footer with eight-inch horns in Louisiana.
Call me a liar. I dare you.
You might not believe giants walked the earth. You might not believe we used their bones as part of the process. You might not believe any of it. But why would I lie to you?
The storm never happened. They decided to take the Cubans. There was an airlift in November. We used part of White’s giant, though. The next March. The North Dakota blizzard stacked snow to the top of the utility poles.
I can show you the pictures.
Carson, I’m not 100% sure I understand the overall plot(which a good movie/script should do), but let me just say, I could read 100 pages more of it. That’s really good stuff my friend! Love your style.
Dagger
Hyperactive
Freeway
Would I lie to you?
Thorn
Beauty
The voice
Vanilla
I dare you
Skeleton
Return written by me
I noticed the beauty of how faces
can often twist in the outer vastness
of dreams, the way they position
themselves with insight communicating
telepathically the voice of vanilla flesh
that melts into spiritual ecstasy behind
a blinding smile.
If you could feel solidarity with light
without hyperactive interference, would you
be surprised at your inability to sleep?
Thoughts are like a dagger; they have sound,
force, stability, and they penetrate like a
thorn into visualized energy.
There is some tangible recognition to the
skeleton existence of manifesting. It chokes
us up, makes us remember to relax and pay
attention to the essences around us, not just
the structural and tangible.
My eyes glaze over calling my bluff, demanding
I plant the seeds in gardens already exhausted
by the freeway of life. Till, till, till,
my root charka gives me determination to arrive
and flourish.
I’m hesitant to celebrate in color, even as I’m
fully integrated and active in the memory of us
and the powerful forces that brought us together;
before you agreed to split with nature, my nature.
If I could have another opportunity to modify, to
simplify our relationship I would begin functioning
on that level with considerable release, but would
you give me a second chance?
I dare you to say I never loved you while I excuse
myself immersing into shades of Violet, Indigo,
Blue Crystal and Lavender; my colors, as I come
full circle surrounded by love, my love for you.
And that feeling of familiarity and comfort is the
completion of passage that brings return to the
succession of yesterdays, blooming in post-death.
I’ve cleared your path and I now ask,
“Would I lie to you?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Would I lie to you?”
Wow! TEmpressPenguin, that was by far the deepest post we’ve had so far in all the challenges. I sure hope you have a website you can share with us. Do you? If not, get one, and write away on it.
Thank you for joining the fun. Everyone welcome TEmpressPenguin.
O Delight! what a wonderful read. Thank you!
Haunting and gorgeous imagery, wow is right.
Awesome! Truly awesome. Thanks for joining us and ditto what Shane said ~ you should have a website.
Thanks so much to all of you for taking the time to read and comment:) I am going to return the favor. Still getting use to all this. I wouldn’t know how to set the pages and do my own website. I’m not that pc literate. LOL
Blessings!
And thanks again for the warm welcome.
Lol, I just emailed you telling you to get on here! playing catch you this week
fyi guy’s isabelles blog
http://www.isabelleannnewbill.blogspot.com
Lily x
There’ll be a lot more on it soon lol!
The voice was like a thorn in his side. Always teasing him, more vanilla? More vanilla, sir?
He was back in the store three or four times a week at first, but as the addiction deepened, he got on the freeway and flew back in every spare moment. Daily; sometimes more, like a hyperactive child asking for trouble. Sure it’s hard to imagine a longing that rips at your soul so callously that it twists your mind, but would I lie to you? He went from a skeleton to a marshmallow puff in a few short months. What’s the difference, he thought. The ripe beauty behind the counter never noticed him before, and she certainly didn’t now. When he was thin and trying so hard, the rejection he imagined was a dagger; now, his padding protected him from her unfeeling words.
“More vanilla, sir?” she asked, but in his love-perverted mind he heard, “I dare you.”
He took the dare one too many times, and right past 450 pounds, his sad heart gave up. Dead from vanilla ice cream.
oh dear! a warning to us all. How bout chocolate? Is chocolate safe?
Of course chocolate is safe!
oya sure you betcha…would you lie to me…
Chocolate would have got him the girl.
No way in Hades would I have thought anybody would write a story about food addiction with this challenge. Outstanding!
What I love the most about this story is “More vanilla, sir?” The power and weight that you gave these words with your story was the “awesome sauce.” It’s almost like these three words became the climax.
ps. I was wondering where you were!
Shane,
Hiding deep in the wilderness of Québec on vacation. Takes about fifty years to drive here, so I didn’t see the challenge until this morning.
I never know what I’m going to write. I wait until the words talk to me. After “The voice was like a thorn in his side,” I just sat for a few minutes until I heard her say “More vanilla, sir?” and then the rest wrote itself.
That is so neat how ideas just come into focus. Knowing this added more context to what you wrote. Cool. have fun up north.
Now that’s maximum customer experience!
~Graham
Ah, the challenges just aren’t as sweet without you!
That vanilla ice cream was drizzled with awesome sauce.
Sean,
The addiction is strong—I actually missed it yesterday! You provide the awesome, I’ll do my best to sauce it. LOL.
Graham,
Oh, yeah, she’s definitely a loyal reader. Deliver delight and keep ‘em coming back, eh?
Chocolate is a food group, right?
Nice one, Kelly.
In my world, Stacey, chocolate is THE food group. Everything else is just condiments.
Dagger through my hyperactive heart,
A breezy freeway I should have closed long ago.
“Would I lie to you?” she asks, a twisting thorn in itself
But then all beauty has its points.
The voice, vanilla and soft whispers:
“I dare you.”
I no longer have the guts, like a skeleton.
Excellent final line, Graham.
Graham,
Nice! I love “A breezy freeway I should have closed long ago.” You can really feel the desperation in that line.
Thanks both! Kinda likey myself…
~Graham
That highway line is money, Graham!
Very nice write.
The CCC passed 1000 comments already!!!!!
Thank you so much everyone for making this such a wonderful, kick-bleep site!
I’m logging off for a few hours, and when I get back, I’ll probably have to moderate another 1000 comments! Whooohoo!
I think I musta been jonesing for a creative fix because two came out this time. Hope that’s ok.
“Would I lie to you?”
The voice was sweet and comforting like vanilla ice cream sliding down the back of your throat on a hot summer night.
My mind was a whirling dervish of hyperactive thoughts. Yes. No. Maybe. Probably. He had posed this question a thousand times before. Logically, the voice in my head told me that the answer was an emphatic YES YOU WOULD!, but the whisper of my heart always wanted to believe that he was my knight in shining armor. That what we had was an inner beauty that people on the outside could never understand, despite the constant daggers of deceit he would drive into my soul. Our relationship had been a freeway of chaos; one flaming wreckage after another, skeleton upon skeleton straddling the white line and remnants of my broken heart littering the blacktop. God how I wanted to believe that it would be different this time; that the beauty of the rose would not come with the inevitable bloody prick from the thorn.
I turned away, the tears quietly falling down my face. I knew it had to be over if I wanted to retain any sense of sanity. The rollercoaster of emotional highs and lows had taken its toll on my self-respect and I knew that if I was to survive another day, I would have to leave. Now.
“I DARE YOU TO LEAVE. I JUST FUCKING DARE YOU!” he roared in a rage that I knew all too well. The sound of his fist leaving another hole in the dingy apartment wall made me cringe but I willed myself to not turn around, to not apologize and cry into his chest asking for him to tell me things would be ok. The tension radiated through the air and I felt that familiar pang of fear welling up in the pit of my stomach, building and building like a wild beast wanting to force its way out. This beast of fear had kept me hostage long enough. Today I had discovered my knightly armor of courage and discovered that it fit me quite well. I was going to be ok.
—-
He always was a hyperactive kid. “I dare you.” This seemed to be his mantra, he was always trying to push the envelope. He could be such a thorn in my side but my God, how he taught me about the beauty of life. When watching him play, I could forget all of the skeletons of my past for a time, their dirty bones gathering dust in my closets. My son’s imagination took him to far-off worlds in my living room, to freeways built on my carpet, and he was always singing. He had the voice of an angel.
Yesterday, I told him to stay in the backyard when he had wanted to go play near the train yard. “I will, I will… sheesh Mom, I’m 6 and a half now. I’m not a baby,” he replied smartly. I was tired and short with him. “I mean it!”, I yelled. “Would I lie to you?” he mumbled on his way out the patio doors with our dog Shep.
Tracing the outline of a vanilla ice cream stain dripped from sticky fingers on my couch, I can’t believe that he is gone. This stain is only a day old. Daggers of grief embed themselves permanently in my heart. Maybe the pain will lessen someday and the scars will fade but today I cannot fathom the truth. Shep whimpers and puts his muzzle on my lap. We sit quietly by the window while the sun sets in a blood red sky, listening intently for the voice of angels.
Lisa,
The first one was good but the second one was awesome. Really powerful. It’s so easy to insert myself in the story and feel what she’s feeling. Wow.
So many great things about these two I don’t know where to begin.
“whirling dervish”
“daggers of deceit”
“skeleton upon skeleton straddling the white line”
“freeways built on my carpet”
I’m making a swipe file of all the great usage of words from everyone here (the above included). Any wannabe writer that stumbles upon the CCC should do likewise. I’m so humbled by the talent in here. Truly fantastic everyone!
crap… how did this get added twice?? help. please delete me!!!
A skeleton, a dagger lies
Alone on a freeway ramp
All that remains
All to be found
Once a rare beauty
The rose without a single thorn
Is a beauty no more
Alone on the exit of life
The voice whispers of hope
Quieting the hyperactive world
I dare you to believe
I am not gone
The silky, vanilla-smooth voice
Whispers once more
Would I lie to you
You, my only love
Follow me and you will see
Follow me and you will believe
You, my only love
I loved the flow of this one Cathy.
Fantastic!
Thanks, Shane! Keep ‘em coming.
Sorry, this is a long one, but I got carried away.
Carrie and Paulie Sutter had walked this way home from school every day since they were in Kindergarten. The schoolhouse was just a few miles from their farm, on the other side of the creek. It was great fun running down the path through the woods. There was adventure behind every rock and mystery in every tree.
Today was Friday and they had to hurry home quickly. They were having a party and mamma was making vanilla ice cream. Off they ran out the schoolhouse, so fast they didn’t hear the voice of their teacher Mr. Appleby yelling at them across the road. “See you children on Monday and mind you get that homework done.”
Carrie was 10, two years older than her younger sister, Pauline. Two girls with a hyperactive imagination. Today’s adventure came from a story Mr. Appleby had read to them in class. All about knights and princesses and fire-breathing dragons. “Hurry up, Carrie the dragon is chasing us”, said Paulie. “Bet you can’t catch me….Bet I can…I dare you…” And she was off; running so fast she didn’t notice the thorn bush and ripped a hole in her calico dress. ‘Now look what you’ve done’, screamed Carrie; you done tore your dress all to pieces…Mamma’s going to kill you! But Paulie wasn’t listening. “Look here Carrie, look at this rock. It’s a beauty”. Paulie had picked up a rock on the edge of the creek bed.
It didn’t look like other rocks. There were bright golden speckles in it. “It’s a beauty alright” said Carrie. ‘speck there’s any more like it?” I reckon so. They gathered as many of the golden rocks as they could carry in their hands and ran off home, past their daddy’s mill and through the woods.
James Marshall had watched them from his cabin of the other side of mill. “What’s them little gals is looking at?, he wondered. Then he saw it in Carrie’s hand. But he had to sure. Down at the creek he saw them there, glistening through water. GOLD! He collected some of the precious stones and ran back to his cabin and locked them away in a box. He held the skeleton key close to his breast. If them there rocks is what I think they is, I am rich man. But if anyone found out…If anyone found out. Them little Sutter gals is bound to tell someone what they found. He had to stop them. He took the dagger from the shelf and hide it in his boot and took off through the woods to Sutter’s Mill.
He caught up with them just the other side of Freeway Creek. “good, they ain’t been home yet”. Hey you gal, he yelled. Can you help me?”
Sure thang Mr. Marshall, said Carrie. What you need?
I been huntin’ birds with my slingshot and I done run out of rocks. You girls got any?
Sure do said Paulie, reaching into her pocket. Hush up said Carrie.
No sir, Mr. Marshall. We ain’t got any rocks fit for bird huntin’
You for sure?
Carrie was getting uneasy now, why would old man Marshall care about a few sparkly rocks? Would I lie to you?
That’s a great story Clara. Of course you know now I must know what happens with Carrie and Pauline. I hope you pick up with it in another challenge.
Nice indeed.
I have no idea what happens next. I am just makin’ stuff up. lol. Now that I hooked on these creative copy challenges, it might be an extra challenge to do a continuing story.
Indeed. A couple of people are doing so. It’s fun to read.
ps. What do you supposed makes the CCC so addictive to you?
The rusty dagger lay between the ribs of the skeleton. My hyperactive son had found the body this morning while paying a game of “I Dare You” near the freeway with his friend Vanilla. Would I lie to you? That really is his name. The voice in my head keeps saying that no one would call their kid that. But hey, his mom’s name is Thorn and she is a real beauty!
(How about 1st word, last word, 2nd word, 9th, etc, etc….)
Cleve, that…was…awesome. For you to do the challenge in that order is super cool. I never would have thought to do that. Truly a challenge within a challenge.
The DJ was spinning In the Name of Love when we entered Club Clobber, a popular haunt for allegedly flattish characters.
“Do you wanna dance,” I asked, putting on my best Joey Ramone.
“Your stupidity is disappointing, Winter,” she said. “We aren’t in kindergarten. And by the way, that goatee isn’t working for you.”
Her gunpowder perfume was exquisite and she wielded her chrome quill like a switchblade.
The characters at the bar didn’t stand a chance.
Shan Earth Ur was beginning to feel more like a deathtrap than an asylum.
My heart filled with sorrow and I began to wonder if I would make it out alive.
The movie in my head that this story is creating is awesome. Continue on.
She drove a vanilla white sedan, completely nondescript save the rose skeleton hanging from the rearview mirror. It looked a bit like Jerry Garcia—the skeleton rose thing. The sedan looked like the kind of vehicle the FBI or CIA might employ, or perhaps the SEU Authorities. I couldn’t bear the thought. I’d rather take a dagger in the groin than admit that this hyperactive beauty could in fact be an SEU Agent.
But then again, it made perfect sense.
Song sensed my uneasiness. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“You really don’t like the goatee?” I returned.
“Would I lie to you?” She was really quite beautiful.
I knew she would and I thought about telling her as much, but then I thought better of it.
“I dare you,” said the voice inside my head. I couldn’t resist.
The next thing I knew, I was bound and gagged in the trunk of Song’s sedan, careening down the freeway.
“You are really starting to become a thorn in my side, Winter,” she said.
What can I say that I already have not. I love this story, Troy.
“I dare you to touch it!” The voice of Bobby, always hyperactive, whistled in my ear.
I wasn’t so sure. We were on the freeway, after all, and if I stuck out my hand that far, I would surely tear it off.
“It’ll be fun! Come on. Would I lie to you?” Bobby’s enthusiasm was hard to resist.
I reached out the driver’s side window, ready to grasp the thorny bush. Edging my car closer and closer to the wall where the vanilla-scented vines draped down, I was struck with the sudden realization that Bobby wasn’t with me.
Bobby was dead.
He’d died months ago, on this very same road, the shattered glass of his windshield pierced through his chest like a dagger as he’d attempted this same dare–
My dare.
I sobbed, seeing his face, his beauty, in the seat next to me replaced by a cold, lifeless skeleton–
And then the wall was in my face.
@Sara: You are on fire today!
You know, your writing reminds me of @James Chartrand’s. You two should chat writing sometime.
Thanks Shane!
We’d leave mayhem and chaos in our wake
@James: So when can I be expecting that?
James, I’m thinking of starting an online course called “Endless PesterFest 101: How to force, through sheer annoying repetition, someone to do something you want.”
Wow, James, your site is just awesome!