BET YOU CAN’T do this writing prompt. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying all of them together! And remember: after (if) 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 previous writing prompts, we BET YOU CAN’T do those, either.)
- Do you hear me?
- Gut
- Evil
- Felony
- Revolution
- Riptide
- It’s hard
- Vagrant
- Lush
- Lightning
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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“You’re going to die.” James’ voice was calm and almost pleasant as he pressed the muzzle of his Luger to the man’s forehead and whispered in his ear. He felt no remorse. None at all.
“Do you hear me? I can feel how evil you are in my gut, and you’re going to die.” The man could barely gibber out frightened sounds. “Felony doesn’t even come close to what you’ve done. You’ve created the revolution of Lucifer himself – and I thought that guy was unbeatable.”
James took the gun away from the man’s head and slowly, slowly walked around him, almost lost in thought as he talked away. “You have no idea of the riptide you’ve caused for people. Do you?” The victim shook his head violently.
“That’s too bad,” James sighed sadly. “It’s hard to kill you knowing that you don’t even acknowledge what a vagrant bastard you are. I nearly prayed for some lightning bold of understanding to hit you, but I guess my dreams were too lush.”
He stopped in front of the sweating man again, idly checking his gun. “Ah well. You always did disappoint me, didn’t you. I guess that was your thing. Well, goodbye,” James smiled.
And then he lifted the gun to the man’s head and blew out his brains.
Ok, so after you write the new book with James in it, you have to think of a book title. I like Chartranded
Smiles!
Another great entry!
“Do you hear me?”
In my gut, I knew that nobody could. This wasn’t just bad luck. It was evil, a felony against humanity. But then that’s really what a revolution is. The riptide grabs hold, pulling everyone under, and it’s hard to dig in and claw your way back onto shore no matter who is right or wrong.
I am a vagrant – in their eyes anyway. Something of a lush in this new world of frugality. Should I sit down and obey? The thing about standing up for what you believe in is that whether you effect change or you affect nothing, you will be hit by lightning.
Graham, that…was…awesome. Probably your best yet, in my opinion.
Thanks Shane.
I’m struggling to become part of the “community” this is spawning (life of the freelancer, feast or famine, right? — which explains me in my office on a Sunday morn…) But I do find that when I get a chance to take the CC Challenge, it’s a fine tune up for the day’s events.
~Graham
The way I see it, if you’ve submitted one submission, you are part of the community. I know people are busy, so if they find the time for even one, that’s good enough for me. I’m having a blast and I’m glad people use these as their daily motivators.
Frequent flashes of lightning illuminated the stormy sea. Josh frantically ran down the beach, shielding his eyes from the rain while scanning the rolling surf as best he could. The sinking feeling in his gut portended a bad ending to the night. The local TV news had reported that a strong riptide would be active tonight, in addition to the evil storm that was moving in. “It’s hard to imagine a worse scenario,” he muttered to himself.
“Tina, where are you? Do you hear me?” He continued his anxious scan of the horizon, hoping to glimpse something to boost his hopes. His apprehension grew as seconds ticked by.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Josh turned, startled. A man stood near him, dressed in the ragged clothes of a vagrant. A sudden fear gripped Josh. Had a felony been committed here, on this beach? Was Tina okay, or was she dead? He glanced at his watch. The minute hand had completed an entire revolution while he searched for his missing girlfriend.
“Josh, what are you doing out in this weather?”
Josh whirled around at the familiar sound, forgetting the homeless man. “Tina, where have you been? I’ve been searching for you for over an hour!”
“I had to get out and get some air, and then I noticed the storm was moving in. I turned back as soon as I realized, but it was a long walk back. I’m so sorry to make you worry. Let’s go back to the hotel now and get cleaned up.” A suggestive smile crossed her lush lips.
“Okay, that sounds like a great idea!” He turned to the homeless man, ”Thanks for offering to help. This is the girl I was looking for. I’m so glad she’s safe!”
Karetha, that was an excellent write, too. It read like you really enjoyed writing this one, right? Really good. Thanks.
Yah, this was a quick little easy write. Happy to join in.
We like happy endings–in between all the murders!
Well done!
“Do you hear me? What’s wrong with you, you lazy fucker? Wake up!”
I’ll take a knife to the gut…
I’ll embrace pure evil…
I’ll commit a felony against the elderly…
I’ll start a voilent revolution…
I’ll swim into a riptide…
I’ll switch places with a vagrant…
I’ll swallow a bolt of lightning…
Just to look down at Mr. Winkey, see the lushness return, and shout, “It’s hard, it’s hard!
“Oh my God! It’s getting hard now! I can’t believe it! Thank you, God!”
“So… can you hear me now? Sorry pal, but I’m gonna’ beat you like you owe me money!”
OMG!!! LOL!!!
Being a florist (I really am!) is not as easy as most people would like to believe. Sure, we get to make lots of pretties…that’s what feeds my soul. But the industry has changed. Every type of retail operation has managed to worm its way into our little industry, selling the flowers we have to work so hard to get at wholesale to the public. So here is a story for all you struggling florists out there……
The flower revolution is at hand. It’s hard to make a living when you have to buy your product for the same price as the retail giants are charging. The riptide effect has resulted in massive layoffs at the flower market, the closure of thousands of mom and pop stores and the plowing under of fields by small farmers that just can’t make it anymore. So you do what you have to do.
I mean no evil when I stake out lush flora wantonly trailing over the side of a fence in some alley or tufting from some industrial park. I keep a journal of what is growing where, and then prepare for my personal little benefits package.
My gut tells me this is not a felony, but the little angel on my shoulder sometimes keeps screaming “what the hell do you think you’re doing, girl (yes, he says “girl”!)” Hey, knock it off! Do you hear me?” but let’s face it, fuckin’ little angel doesn’t have to pay the bills! Sooo, until things get better, I will dress like a vagrant, arm myself with my trusty little pruning shears and garbage bags and head out to do some creative landscaping, hoping lightning doesn’t strike me! (ok, God, I know you have a sense of humor, because supposedly we were created in your image?)
Margaret, Just tell God you did what you did with those flowers so you could write about it in the CCC. He’ll understand.
This one is the best!
Let’s hope God doesn’t have you pushing up daisies…sorry, bad, very bad…
The lightning was dramatic as she turned lushly toward him.
“Do you hear me?” he grasped. “It’s hard!”
That passion, a revolution for both of them, almost felony-like in its intensity, created sensational riptides in both of them.
She shushed her vagrant mind and gut. “There is no stain of evil here,” she sighed to herself.
this is just plain addictive
Anne, I say this alot, but THAT was your best one so far.
felony-like in its intensity – That was a fantastic line.
Shane, why do you think I keep coming back!
And yeah, I think I’m getting better at this… of course, it’s hard to get worse at something you practice.
And always succint–that takes talent!
“It’s hard to swim against a riptide. Do you hear me?” said the vagrant.
This hit me in the gut, because we were in the middle of the lush park, amidst numerous flashes of lightning, with no ocean in sight.
“I hear you,” I replied.
“Good! It is an important thing to know, just in case you run across a riptide. I was at the beach the other day and almost drowned because I did not know,” he said.
This caused a revolution in me, as I realized it is neither a felony, nor evil, to be a vagrant, just a matter of circumstance. This man was just trying to help someone he doesn’t even know, even if it was not really relevant at the time. Even though his life seems to be abnormal, he is still a good man, and should be treated with kindness.
Steve, did this really happen? Happened or not, I really liked the message here. Enjoyable read for sure.
Not this particular incident, but I don’t just ignore vagrants (homeless). They are people too, and with the right sequence of events it could happen to anyone.
I happen to know a few quite well, as they are always around the same places (the library, in particular). Some are what might be called mentally challenged, but for the most part they are just decent people down on their luck.
I usually will not give them money, but will occasionally buy those I know well a meal, or give them a ride.
I believe in treating others as I would like to be treated in the same circumstances.
Steve (and everyone), watch these two videos about homeless people and our interactions with them (and how the power of what we write can better the world):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RnmNZaW8oVQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-K8bpoDn-8
Jeff Sexton brought these to my attention. He wrote up a great piece on the first video here: http://www.grokdotcom.com/2008/10/06/cause-people-to-realize-the-truth-rather-than-just-tell-them/
Can’t access YouTube at work, but will check out later at home.
omg! Just omg! Well, and a huge thank you Shane!
http://bit.ly/dr7xAc
Welcome. Jeff Sexton did a write up about that video here: http://www.grokdotcom.com/2008/10/06/cause-people-to-realize-the-truth-rather-than-just-tell-them/
Just watched both videos. They are very moving.
Thanks for the links.
Wow—
You’re a good man, Steve. Personally, I’d rather give to them than Uncle Sam.
sefcug… at a minimum I make a point to look them in the eye and at least nod. Often I will say hi or something… and I give money, but that’s for me, not for them. Thanks!
Anne…Good for you. Glad to see I am not the only one, though it does seem that way at times.
And that’s a great way to live
He slowly opened his eyes to see a brilliant, azure sky above him. He blinked at the blinding sun and closed his eyes again as he tried to think, to recall the events of the last few days.
Through the dim mists of a severe headache, he thought back to the voyage on board evil Captain Burgess’s rust bucket. His thoughts went back to his last night on land, before the press gang had dragged him aboard ship at Portsmouth. He had been guilty of no felony, but had been treated like some worthless vagrant by his captors. They had set sail the next morning and he remembered the feeling of desolation in his gut as he had watched the land disappearing into the distance.
He had been forced to work on deck for the past few weeks with scant rations and hardly any sleep. The seas had been calm until that last fateful night when he was on watch and the wind had been building up over the past hours until a might storm got up – the thunder was ear splitting and the lightning lit up the sky, as the waves lashed over the decks in a mighty riptide.
The storm had not abated and the crew were now all on deck, fighting nature in a desperate attempt to keep the ship from overturning into the treacherous waters around them.
They had not won the battle, however, and there was soon the sickening sound of timber splitting and the next moment the ship was sinking, turning over in a mighty revolution so quickly, and without warning, that all the men could do was try to stay alive in the icy waters.
Tom was lucky – he was washed up onshore next day, somehow cheating death, and was now wandering along the beach trying to assess his surroundings and establish if any of his fellow crewmates had survived, as he had.
He called out loudly, rough hands cupped around his mouth, ‘Hello! Do you hear me?’ There was an eery silence as Tom left the beach to disappear into the lush undergrowth. He felt so alone and in despair as he battled his way through the vegetation, in search of food, water – anything to help him keep going until he could work out what to do next. ‘ It’s hard enough to come to terms with my situation,’ he thought sadly, ‘ but I could face all this if only my Mary were here – I miss her so!’ He crumpled finally and fell into a heap sobbing wretchedly.
Carole, I love how you introduced a love story into this submission at the end.
And for some reason, Gordon Lightfoot’s song The wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald came to my mind while reading your story.
Mom: No, I haven’t read yours yet and please don’t call to read it to me.
I love you and will see you at dinner. :)
In order y’all:
“Do you hear me?” asked the little voice that crept into my head
It then went weaving through my gut just like a silky silver thread
It sounded sorta evil, like a felony filled pollution
Begging that I rock my right with wicked revolution
A riptide pulling at your conscience – some times it’s hard to fight
But you’ve gotta keep on keeping on with what you know is right
A hero or a warrior, a vagrant or a lush
Make the right decision, there isn’t any rush
A sudden bolt of lightning could come crashing through your life
Filling it with pain, regret, sorrow, grief and strife
Walk the honored road and then a happy life you’ll lead
Filled with all the pride inside that surely we all need
Man, we think alike. Today was the first day I thought how cool it would be if people not only did the challenge, but did the words in the order they were listed (adding another level of challenge to the challenge). I got all the way to 7 and had to abandon the idea.
Awesomesauce.
I’m a middle child of 7 so I can be very competitive
Do you hear me? In your gut you know you are an evil, felony-waiting-to-happen, pervert caught in a revolution of riptide proportions of evil. It’s hard to deny your image as a worthless vagrant and a lush, when the evidence is so clear. Deny it, if you will but don’t be surprised when you are zapped by lightning. God is all just.
You really do have a gift with words, Sean.
“Do you hear me?” That evil bitch in the cell next door was screaming again.
How the fuck could I NOT hear you? thought Cecily who wanted to gut her like a fish. Maybe I really am a gen-u-wine murderer after all because if I could get my hands on that banshee vagrant I’d rip her head off and shit down her neck.
The lightning flashed again, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. Cecily remembered Sonya was driving down to visit tomorrow. It’s hard to wait, she thought. Glancing around at her lush surroundings, she wondered if the riptide of her hopelessness would pull her down under for the third time.
Cecily decided the real felony was the revolution occurring inside her soul. She was quickly becoming a bonafide psychobitch just like the girl next door.
LOVE IT! Cecily one a bad ass. I think Cecily and James’s Jame character should meet!
What does it say about me that I absolutly love this?
Great job, Loran.
I put my arm around his shoulders like an old buddy. The whole setup was tricky and evil. I didn’t need to shove him hard. Plop. He was in the water.
“Do you hear me?”
It was a gargled plea, not a question.
Eventually, the riptide sucked the vagrant under for the last time. It’s hard to tread water when you’re a lush with a gut full of white lightning.
He was one of them. We were part of us. It’s hard to believe we did it with a straight face, but we tried to claim it was all part of the resistance. They said it was a felony, not an act of revolution–and that we were going down either way.
Last thought: I wouldn’t mind a call from the Governor about now.
Last words: “Do you hear me?”
As always, Carson, it was a pleasure reading your submission. Write on!
Wow.
The Homecoming
Katherine woke up the next day with a splitting headache and her back wasn’t any better. She groaned as she got up from the bedroom floor. Katherine noticed that the dark stain and prophylactic were no longer on the hardwood floor. “What the hell?” Katherine was confused. “What the hell happened last night?” Katherine mumbled to herself.
The sun was shining today. Katherine went outside to get some fresh air and walk on the lush, green grass. She wandered down to the beach. The riptide came in last night and washed up some debris onto the shore. Katherine noticed an old man walking with his dog. He threw a stick and the dog took off; he ran towards Katherine. “Sorry Miss. I didn’t mean for old Charlie to disturb you,” said the old man. “No harm done, I love dogs,” said Katherine. She noticed his clothes. Most people would take him for a vagrant who’s about to commit a felony, but she didn’t get that vibe from him. “Excuse my dress. I don’t like to wear my good clothes when I come to the beach with old Charlie. Sometimes he gets too excited and jumps all over me,” said the old man. “I understand,” said Katherine. “Well, I must be on my way. It was nice to meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name,” said Katherine. “They call me J.T., short for Jonathan Tessier,” said the old man. Katherine didn’t smile. She looked liked she saw a ghost. “Your name is Jonathan Tessier. Any relation to the Tessier family that settled here in the 1800s?” asked Katherine. “Yes ma’am the very ones. Our heritage goes back to ancient times. Some of our ancestors settled on the East Coast, but we don’t speak about them much,” said J.T. Katherine didn’t know what to say. “I’m kidding. Although we are proud of our Southern heritage and the part our family played in the revolution of this country back in the 1700s” said J.T. “Yes, well…I must be going,” said Katherine. She felt a cold chill as she began walking back to the house.
The blue sky suddenly turned dark and gray. She turned on the radio and according to the weather reports another storm was headed for the island. Katherine decided to make a light
lunch of chicken salad and crackers. She glanced out the kitchen window as she began to chop the celery for the chicken salad. The lightning begun to crackle and was reflected back to Katherine in the window. She heard the phone ring and hesitated to answer. “Hello,” said Katherine. She relaxed as she heard the familiar voice of Crystal on the other line. “It’s hard to believe I’m living on Tybee Island,” said Katherine. “When are you coming back to New York? We miss you in the financial district,” said Crystal. “I’m not coming back, I don’t miss it,” said Katherine. She leaned against the counter top and smiled as she spoke to her friend.
The thunder and lightning were performing a symphony outside. “Crystal, I’ve got to go. There’s another storm headed our way and it’s getting eerie outside. I’ll keep in touch. Come and visit me anytime. Goodbye,” said Katherine. She hung up and went back to chopping the celery. She finished making her lunch and placed it on the kitchen table. The wind was whistling and whipping through the trees. A shiver went down Katherine’s spine.
Katherine finished her lunch and settled into an overstuffed chair in the living room. She turned on the light and it flickered. Katherine grabbed her journal and began writing. She became tired from writing and moved to the couch where she fell into a deep sleep. She was transported to the South, could have been 1860s. She looked happy but apprehensive. Katherine didn’t know why. “Do you hear me?” said a soft voice. “Do you hear me?” said the voice again. “Katherine, DO YOU HEAR ME?” Katherine awoke with a start and had a gut feeling that something evil was lurking within her new home or at least inside her mind.
Wow, that’s a great twist at the end. Is it the man with the dog? Is she going crazy? Does she have a stranger under the bed? Love this stuff!!!!
Thank you! And, thanks for this website. I’m having a lot of fun writing these short stories…
The thanks goes to everyone here that submits, without whom this site would be quite a boring collection of bulleted lists!
Love it! I’m with Shane–great twist at the end.
It was around midnight last night and as I was walking on the Boardwalk I saw lightning hit the water and seconds later a swift riptide rushed through without abandon. My gut told me that there was an evil presence nearby and as I continued to walk, I saw two men commit what looked like a felony of major proportions. It’s hard to believe, I’m sure but there was a vagrant nearby and I’m sure he, too, saw what happened. What happened last night caused a revolution in my mind, do you hear me? Well, perhaps you can’t hear me but it doesn’t matter for my mind is now lush with excitement and adventure.
I love this snippet of adventure, Toni. I’d like to see you try and carry this into the next challenge.
Thanks, Shane! Will try, as you mentioned, carry this to the next challenge…This is such fun!
Toni
Dear gut,
It’s hard to write this letter without looking like an evil vagrant defending his latest felony in a riptide of revolution-minded lightning, so I won’t.
Do you hear me?
Sincerely,
Your lush
Jaced. That was awesome. I used to write letters like this to my gut (and my aching head) in college, saying something about never doing it again.
When you weren’t talking to Mr. Winkey?
ok. I laughed out loud just now!!!
“You know what they say about breaking up, right?”
“What?”
“It’s hard to do.”
“Does all your wisdom come from pop songs?”
“Hey man, they wouldn’t make ‘em singles if it wasn’t so true. That shit’s life-changing. 78 revolutions per minute, my friend.”
“I don’t think that’s what that term refers to.”
“Whatever. Drink up.”
I already was. If heartbreak is an itch, then alcohol is the most satisfying way to scratch it. And after awhile, you don’t even have to think about it anymore.
“So, what, she cheated?”
“Yeah.”
“With who?”
“Dan.”
“Who the fuck is Dan?”
“Just some guy.”
“Well, shit, then fuck that evil bitch. She doesn’t deserve to have you moping around for this long. She should be dead to you, man.”
It was true. Her actions would’ve been felony in any other jurisdiction. But even after all these years, she still had impunity in my heart – and for that, I was a fool. My vagrant feelings for her wandered through a once lush garden of displaced memory. Each dead flower still retained enough of its former beauty to make me not want to let go. Each bud, a sorry excuse to have hope.
I had plans to set fire to the place but I knew in my gut I would never be able to do it myself. Instead, I would passively pray for lightning to strike, ignite a dead tree and burn the whole scene to ash. It hadn’t come yet.
“Do you hear me?”
“Hm.”
“Christ, you’re like a fucking narcoleptic. All this daydreaming shit. That’s your problem. You just sit around thinking about her all day.”
“It’s night.”
“Doesn’t matter. You should be doing the opposite. You need to forget her, bro.”
“I’m trying.”
To prove my point, I raised my glass to my lips only to realize that I was empty. I called to the bartender, ordered a double and welcomed the riptide of momentary forgetfulness.
Jack, welcome to the CCC addiction. Awesome submission (and I love what you are doing on your website to force yourself to write 500 words each day). I do believe you know have an avenue to achieve your goal every Monday and Thursday here at the CCC. And thanks for the link-love.
She didn’t have to think long – the decision was soon made for her.
Hannah glanced out of the window and saw a face she had hoped would stay in her past. She felt a riptide of emotions flood her senses and her gut churned as he looked in her direction. Quickly she turned her head and hoped he hadn’t seen her.
Nate didn’t know about this part of her past. She wanted to keep it that way. Hannah had her own little revolution when she moved to this school but the felony conviction is still on her record. It’s hard to hide some things, but thankfully, it’s a locked juvenile record. She shuddered thinking about that evil face that she saw.
“Hey, do you hear me?” Nate’s voice brought her back to her current reality.
“Um, no, sorry, I missed it.” Hannah stammered.
“We were talking about heading to the Outlook. Are you in?” Scott filled in for Nate.
“I’m not …” Hannah didn’t get to finish her thought. The man in the window – that vagrant from her past – was now sitting one table over, watching, lightning flashing in his eyes. Apparently, she didn’t duck quick enough. Either that or her lush red hair gave her away. Why didn’t I wear a hat tonight, she groaned to herself.
Your character is truly coming to life in the CCC. I love this tale you are weaving. Thanks Kool Aid.
For those of you not subscribed to all the comments, there’s some good late submissions in CCC17 you may want to read. Have at it.
“Do you hear me God? Please tell me you are listening? Please!! I beg you, please forgive me? PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE! PLEASE DON”T LET ME DIE!”
Life was slipping way from him now as he lay there in agony, pleading for forgiveness, pleading for life. The lush, green grass and wildflowers beneath him received the bright red blood from the wound in his gut. He tried desperately to keep it from escaping, but there was no point in it. It found its way through each finger with force at first, spraying and spewing as he screamed his pleas to the sky. It ebbed as he finished, seeping in pulses with each remaining heartbeat, with each remaining breath. How did this happened? How did this evil thing happen?
The revolution came fast like lightening. He believed in it with all his heart and soul. And only now in the end does he understand it to be a felony, a fake in every sense of the word. “It’s hard to sacrifice sometimes, but we must!” he could hear himself declare then. How foolish and foreign it sounded to him now. How many nights did he sit at the dinner table rambling on about how important the movement was? How many nights did his wife and poor children endure his ranting and raving? And why wouldn’t they? They adored him. They loved him with everything.
His wife was gorgeous inside and out; a real living angel from head to toe. If only he could go back to tell his wife how much he loved her, how much he desired her every night, how much he loved to stare at her, her beautiful face with lips as soft as clouds, eyes as intoxicating as diamonds, and hair as smooth as silk. And her smell, God did he miss it now. She always smelled of the softest and freshest fragrances. He loved to stand behind her and kiss the back of her neck ever so softly. And she loved it, too. She would stand there still, eyes closed accepting every bit of his advance. He loved to taste and smell her neck and hair. He remembered only now how they once spent entire nights buried in each others’ embrace, how they spent hours kissing. They used to whisper in each other ears to see who would laugh first. She was so ticklish and could never last more than a few seconds. But it was always long enough to whisper “I love You”. He remembered that. How could he have let anything come before her?
And what about his poor boys? What would become of them now? He heard their voices clear as day as he laid there dying. He remembered each night as he entered their simple home after a hard day’s work; how they would run to him and jump into his arms screaming, “Daddy, You’re Home!”. He remembered only now their tiny little voices saying, “I love you Daddy”. They used to fall asleep with him at night, one under each arm snuggled in tightly. Oh, the cozy little sounds they would make – sounds of pure comfort, confidence, happiness, and security. It brought back even earlier memories of each of them shortly after being born; the sounds of them nursing. He remembered now how he and his wife would stare at each other as they listened to the gulping and cooing of their new born babies! What a tragedy to have forgotten.
It was all gone now. All in the name of change. He cursed it now. The revolution was Hell’s riptide and it had sucked him away from his paradise. It carried him out to sea where his soul would be lost to vagrantly wander forever.
Great, touching submission, man. Even better than your CCC17 post.
Everyone welcome Soularch to the tribe.
We didn’t want to be charged with felony, but nevertheless we pushed aside the barricades and walked over the lush garden till we reached the sand. Lightning danced over the horizon. I could see the news story in my brain- A band of vagrant men who claimed to love the beach that was their home, yesterday revealed their evil nature as they smashed police barricades to vandalize the on-going construction at the beachside.
“Do you hear me?” Joe’s voice was gruff. “It’s hard to destroy what you love. But to protect our beach we have to do this.”
I knew deep down in my gut that what he said was true. As we walked down the feisty waves came running to cheer us on. The riptide guided us down to the construction site. This was not a war, but a revolution. People in a society revolting against the system which mindlessly destroyed while it claimed to create. Nothing could stop us now.
Anita, welcome to the CCC! You hit the ground running here. Great submission. I want to hear more. I hope you can try to carry this story into the next challenge on Monday.
Everyone welcome Anita. You’re now hooked.
Dear God. I am hooked! I find myself wandering through the previous challenges and wanting to attempt them all! And Shane, thank you
Do them all. We understand. We’re hopelessly addicted, too.
It’s amazing being the moderator of so many graet submissions from so many writers. I believe we’ve had about 80 submissers thus far.
Alicia Tennpenny had been pacing back in forth in the living room of the house she shared with her husband Lucius. It had been almost an hour since that cryptic call about not being able to bring home a movie.
Why the hell won’t he pick back up his phone?
Lightning bolts of anxiety seared into her gut, twisting her insides and causing a riptide of emotion to wash over her. She placed her hand on her stomach to try to hold the pain inside.
Then she thought of Genesis.
I can’t deal with this. It’s hard enough making it through a day without any drama.
She went to the hallway closet, moved some bed sheets to the side and revealed a bottle of MacCutcheon Scotch.
Alicia had always enjoyed drinking socially, but it wasn’t until the miscarriage that she started abusing it. Lucius and her got in a big fight not long ago about her drinking. He called her a drunk and a lush.
Well he’s not here to tell me right now. He calls me with a cryptic message about not being able to get a movie and he loves me.
Now he won’t pick up the phone?
I don’t care right now, Lucius. I’m going to do what I want! You always say I do it my way anyways.
“DO YOU HEAR ME, LUKE TENNPENNY??”
Before she could pour the drink, there was a knock on the door.
Lucius?
She swings the door open and it takes a few seconds for her to recognize her visitor.
Nathan Logan?
“Nathan?”
What’s he doing in a suit?
“Hey Alicia..”
Why is he here? Is he still a cop?
“Is this about Lucius??”
It has to be about him, why else would he be here??
“Yeah it is..”
Before Alicia could ask what is going on, Nathan’s phone rang. He held a finger up to apologize and stepped back.
She watched Nathan with intensity. He had to have answers.
“Are you sure??” Nathan questioned the caller.
“Yeah, I just got here. I haven’t told her anything yet.”
Tell me what??
“Okay, I’ll bring her down.”
Tell me what??
Nathan hung up the phone and turned back towards Alicia.
“Tell me what, Nathan??”
“There’s been an accident at the school. Luke was involved.”
Alicia’s head started to spin. Her knees became weak. Her body started a revolution against her will. She wanted to remain standing, to find out what happened, is Lucius okay?
But she just went to black instead.
*******************************************************************
She didn’t know how long she was out or whose couch she was lying on.
I’m in an office?
She noticed a clean desk and unpacked boxes. Then she noticed the name plate on the door.
Detective Nathan Logan?
He made detective?
Alicia peered through the blinds at the hustle and bustle happening outside. A vagrant was being turned away at the front desk. She saw men who probably commit a felony every morning just by waking up being escorted past the office.
She let go of the blinds as Nathan came back in his office.
“Nathan, what’s going on? Where’s Lucius?”
“I need you to come with me, Alicia. I need you to help me identify Luke.”
Identify Lucius? What was he talking about? What evil trick was he playing?
“I’m not going anywhere Nathan, until you tell me what happened to Lucius?”
Nathan signed and stepped closer to Alicia.
“There was a shooting at the school. Luke was shot stopping the shooter.”
He was shot??
“He didn’t make it.”
No No No No No No No!!
First Genesis.. Now Lucius
“He died a hero. Who knows how many more people would have been hurt or killed if Luke didn’t do what he did.”
Denial set in.
“This doesn’t make sense. He called me from his phone. He said he wasn’t going to be able to…”
She trailed off.
“Let’s go downstairs.”
Alicia followed in a George Romero Living Dead Zombie like trance.
They reach the morgue.
Nathan identifies himself to the staff and he walks them to a cot.
The mortician reads off the toe tag.
“Tennpenny, Lucius. This is him.”
Alicia takes a breath.
“I’m sorry, but we need this Alicia.”
Go ahead already.
What else do I have to lose?
Nathan keeps his eyes on Alicia to make sure she doesn’t pass out as he removes the sheet from the body’s face.
Alicia opens her eyes and looks to the face of her husband.
Wait a minute.
“This isn’t Lucius??”
“Just take a minute with it Alicia. I know it’s difficult.”
“No Nathan. You’ve known Lucius as long as I have. That is not him!!”
Nathan looks down at the body.
“Crap!!”
Nathan drops the sheet, grabs his phone and runs off.
“Art, it’s Nate.. There’s been a mix up!! Where’s the shooter?!?”
Alicia looks down at the corpse and shivers go through her body.
What a creepy smile.
WOW!!!
DAMMIT ERIC!!!!!!!! I know what’s going to happen next…I KNOW IT!!!! He’s alive. He’s alive. Damn that I have to wait until Monday to find out I’m right though.
Damn good story.
“The revolution is coming,” he insisted. “Do you hear me???”
It’s hard to deal with him at these times. He’s not listening. He’s not persuadable. He’s not evil, but he is well-armed.
I know in my very gut how all this will end. I can see the felony charges already.
But it seems I can control my destiny as well as a vagrant lush can walk a straight line. I will be swept out to sea by this paranoid riptide, whether I float along passively or raging at the lightning-filled sky.
I watch him as he cleans a gun, his words glancing off of me like bullets off the man of steel. I can’t care.
The revolution… Where? Where is my revolution?
__
Hi
Mel, that was bad-ass. I’d like to see this submission carried over to the next challenge, too. Great to have you here.
Thanks very much! I’ll definitely be participating — it’s too fun to resist
It’s IMPOSSIBLE to resist!
Resistance is futile…you will be assimilated!
Peter’s gut instinct told him not to venture out on Tuesday but it’s hard to get by without food.
The unmistakable aroma of lush green grass filled his nostrils as he wheeled down his path and headed to the store.
Victor the Vagrant was slumped outside as usual, cap in hand. Peter felt angry, nobody had ever given him anything for nothing and he cast an evil stare in Victor’s direction.
Then suddenly like a lightning bolt, the memory of last night hit Peter. The red wine stain now made sense and the least said about the felony he committed the better, it’s only natural to feel lonely sometimes though.
Inside the store an overweight woman in a floral patterned dress screamed at the cashier “I’m no thief, do you hear me?” before making her way surprisingly quickly out into the street where it was now raining.
Peter picked up a carton of orange juice, some bread & a bag of peanuts and paid the cashier who gave him a funny look. Peter looked at the cashier’s name badge, “Perry King” but unfortunately he wasn’t the famous Riptide actor.
As he made his way back home, Peter felt uneasy and with each revolution of his wheels he edged ever closer to familiar despair.
That was great, Jamie. I must know what felony your character committed. You have to carry this on in the next challenge and tell us my friend.
So I’m sittin on the porch eatin’ a big ol’ bowl a gumbo and laughin’ at the little fellar trying to git his wheelchair up on the porch and the wife’s a-yappin in the background yellin’ “Do you hear me?” Of course I hears her, ’bout the only thing bigger than her gut is her damn mouth. She’s always bitchin’ that I don’t pay attention to her or something like that.
Anyways, I’m trying to enjoy my gumbo and she comes running out on the porch… okay, running is probably not an accurate description; more like waddling like a lame duck. Anyways, out onto the porch she comes bitchin’ cuz I ain’t left yet to pick up her cousin’s brother’s sister’s second-cousin’s husband. I don’t know why she’s getting’ all upset over that no-good vagrant anyway – ain’t like he ever did nuttin’ for her. Well there was that one time he went and gives her one of them there wide-screen tv thingys; he said he bought off a friend-a his. I know’d right off the bat he was lyin’ cuz he ain’t got no friends.
Sure ‘nuff, next day the police comes goin’ to charge us with felony possession of stolen property. I tried tellin’ them there coppers the only property I gots is this little patch a bayou my daddy left me. Comes to find out they was talking ‘bout the television so I tells them to take it and git, and take that evil, no good, poor excuse for kin with them cuz he’s a no good liar! Lord a-mighty the wife done went berserk on me cuz I spoke ill of her kin. It’s real easy to knows when her kin folk is lyin – their lips are moving.
Anyways, she done flew into me like riptide during hurricane season. I swore she was firing lightning bolts outta her arsehole. Found out she just had a case of the runs. It’s hard trying to keep a straight face when the missus got a good mad all worked up and she’s crappin’ her shorts ev’ry time she yells. Made the grass all nice and lush but it didn’t do nuttin’ for her temper. She’s callin me every name in the book and spewin’ out words that would make a trucker blush so I says to myself, “Self”, and I recognized the voice right away cuz it sounded just like me. “Self,” I says, “she kinda reminds me of a song.”
Now ya’ll expectin me to say I was singin’ a Beatles song just to squeeze in that there last word wasn’t ya? Well I ain’t gonna give you that satisfaction, but I’ll give ya a piece of advice. When yer wife done got a good mad worked up and is in the middle of belittling you, that ain’t the best time to start singing any song. She done grabbed the broom and broke it clean over my head. Then she went and got mad at me cuz the broom was broke. Actually, she got mad at me cuz I told her it wasn’t no big deal cuz I ain’t never seen her using the broom anyway, but Lord a-mighty, she done used it on me that day. I didn’t mind the hittin’ part, but she done spilt my gumbo! That was the last straw… the war was on. I told her I am the man and I makes the rules! I laid down the law right then and there!
And when I woke up in the hospital I gots to thinkin’ that maybe a revolution wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Kenn, I couldn’t get past “So I’m sittin on the porch” without laughing. This is such a great story. Can it last another challenge? I sure hope so. Fantastic.
Thanks Shane.
I really do enjoy the challenges and all the great posts here. Some very talented writers are showing just how creative they can be and I enjoy reading their stuff. I don’t always get to post comments, but I am reading them.
I hope my little saga of “Bayou Billy” can last many more challenges because right now it’s the only time I allow myself to actually write new fiction. I’m up to my eyeballs editing audio for the podiobook version of my novel and with two other novels that are each about 1/2 way done, I know that if I start writing them again I’ll get sidetracked and the audio will never get edited and I’m working on a deadline – so I have to force myself not to write my other novels and the not writing is driving me up the wall!
The beauty of these challenges, to me, is they not only force me to think outside of the box, but it offers me an opportunity to write something that has no chance of it monopolizing my time because I can only write the challenge and then I have to wait until the next set of words are posted. I started to go back and write the previous challenges and did #14, but right away I wanted to go back to do some more… which would be a lot of fun, but that doesn’t get audio edited. So I had to put that aside for now. I’ll get them done, but not right now.
So in a nutshell, the challenge you guys created is a great avenue for people to really stretch their writing muscles because it forces you to come up with creative ways to use the words. Who knows, maybe some of these stories will be the basis of a brand new book that would never have been if it wasn’t for these challenges.
Once again, Shane, thank you for telling me about this website. I can’t remember when I had so much fun writing… and believe me, writing Bayou Billy is a LOT of fun!
~Kenn
Kenn, I’m glad that they bring as much joy to others as they do me. I couldn’t imagine not having the challenges now. They have become such a big part of my life. Bayou Billy being a nice part of that.
o my, you people are all seriously talented! nice job. :)
He lived in a collapsed shed in a alley in Southwest Washington D.C. where
a group of us met to work on our cars.
We called him, “Smokey,” mainly because he sniffed Sterno, a chemical gel in a can used for keeping food warm. Actually, we thought of Smokey as a lush of a vagrant who would drink any variety of things including rot gut wine and home made white lighting. Once, one of the guys urinated in a dirty old beer bottle and gave it to him, which he unknowingly drank. As far as I’m concerned this particular guy should have been charged with a felony and spent some time in jail for doing such a rotten thing to Smokey.
Smokey love dogs, especially ragged-out, stray puppies that usually formed a revolution about him. Sometimes he could be heard scolding them saying, “Do you hear me?” for one reason or another.
Sadly, one day the news came that Smokey jumped into the Potomac River and drowned while attempting to save one of his puppies that had fallen in. As was common knowledge, there were no riptides in the Potomac River. Smokey drowned because he couldn’t swim a stroke.
There was an extensive write-up in the newspapers about the tragedy of Smokey‘s death and life. It‘s hard to believe, still, that Smokey had been a professor at a prestigious college. He was an academic who spoke several languages fluently with a masters in mathematics among several other degrees.
In all, Smokey gave his last lecture/lesson, to us in the alley, on the evils of drugs and alcohol that consumed his life.
A true story.
That’s a touching story, A. Hamilton. Give us more.
After his last serial murder case, Detective Brett Connors took a much-needed break. He climbed into his fully restored 1965 Ford Mustang Coupe with the vintage pony seats, reveling in the power of more than 3000 Revolutions Per Minute. A vagrant traveler caught in a riptide of emotions, Brett discovered it’s hard to outrace your thoughts – even at lightning speed.
As he drove past hillsides lush from winter rains, his thoughts whispered, “do you hear me?” But, it wasn’t his voice he heard. It was the voice of a killer. The sound of one so evil, one so vile, his acts ranked their own brand of felony. In his gut, Brett knew the hollow pain of arriving too late. He knew no matter how far he traveled or how fast he drove, he could never turn back the clock. He would always arrive too late.
Cathy, that was just super!!!
As Bob Marley once said, “You can’t run away from yourself.”
his acts ranked their own brand of felony – my fav line!
Thanks, Shane, and love the Marley line!
“Do you hear me?” cried the tyrant in his sleep. His gut wrenched with the evil of the felony he had committed during the revolution. The riptide had washed the body amd evidence of his crime away. It’s hard for a man like him to find peace. He was just a vagrant wandering in the lush landscape, trying to avoid the lightning and hail in the worst of storms. Now he was the dictator. Again and again he muttered “I’ve crossed many rivers.”
“Do you hear me?” The voice comes slow and raspy in my ear, just a whisper barely perceptible.
I squeeze my eyes tight and clasp my hands over my ears. “Go away, go away, go away,” I mutter through clenched teeth. Rocking back and forth sometimes helps shut out the voice but it’s hard to maintain a semblance of sanity when you act like a nut. You see, it’s all about appearances and how you look to the outside world. Perception is reality. Maybe if I can fool all of them, then perhaps I can actually fool myself into believing the opposite of what my gut tells me; that I am infected with pure evil. Maybe if I can just grasp self-control I will be able to stem the riptide of insanity.
“The revolution is coming.” The voice raises its level a decibel and cackles with laughter, taunting me.
With lightning speed, I bring my closed fist with as much force as I can muster, to impact right between my eyes. Bright spots pock my vision and the edges of my peripheral vision go fuzzy. I look around guiltily. Did anyone see me?
A vagrant is rifling through the garbage bin in front of the library, perhaps looking for bottles to refund or maybe even a morsel to eat, The lush scenery of the library and the surrounding park seem to contradict the poverty and squalor that this dirty little man exists within daily. I can smell the pungent odour emanating from him; a combination of stale booze, sweat, grime and desperation. His rough exterior and garb of rags tell a tale of living against the code of society for many moons. I glance around in every direction to ensure that we are alone.
The voice breaks through at a full roar, “It is not a felony to assist a fellow man reach the land of utopia.”
Reaching deep into my pocket, I pull out the blade.
Lisa, that was super intense. I felt that read. Love when that happens.
How you been?
Thanks Shane,
Been missing these rooms lately, just haven’t had much chance to take some downtime and do much writing. Have been incredibly busy with work and as I’m sure many know, the world of freelance is usually only two speeds: full throttle or at a complete standstill. So, I’m trying to make hay while the sun shines while the work is available. A tad stressful at times but generally it helps that I have a passion for what I do for a living.
I see that the submissions are continuing to grow which is absolutely awesome! Kudos for moderating a great site! Thanks again!
And thank you again. I’m loving this place because of all of you.
dang it. i can’t remember wherei left off. see what happens when you get out of the ccc loop??
Velvet directed me to the Riptide—a seedy bar on the waterfront—for my next assignment.
“Viva la Revolution!” The vagrant at the end of the bar drooled. Then he slid off his bar stool and collapsed in a heap on the floor.
“It’s hard to watch a man drink his life away,” said the character behind the bar. “He’s lush, but he doesn’t deserve to die.”
“Did you ever consider not serving him that rot gut.” I pointed to the bottle sitting on the bar.
“Mister,” he leaned forward. “Serving white lightning isn’t a felony. I’m just doing my job! Do you hear me? I’m just doing my job, nothing evil.”
That was true enough. Still, I wrote off the old bastard. Then I swept his residue away.
hahaha. Poor old bastard indeed.
“Do you hear me?” he asked, loudly, again. “Hurry up or I’ll take you away!”
Of course I hear you, my dear officer. It’s hard not to, as you’re two inches from my nose and yelling at the top of your lungs. Your badge is shiny. Your gun is huge. I’m not impressed. You see so little.
And it’s more than a felony, it’s a revolution! Let the riptide of democracy wash away these political vagrants! Let lightning strike the evil gut of the lushes drunk on power and priviledge! It’s “by the People, and for the People,” not “sacrifice the People, ignore the People,” as they will soon realize.
I reluctantly let it go. My ballot dropped into the box. I walked outside a free man, and went home a hero.
@Steven: Well said. I always thought it would be a good rule to simple vote all incumbents out, regardless of party. Think about it. It would be quite a message sent.