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.)
- Alive
- Dust
- Gloom
- Mad
- Mirage
- Piece
- Sleep
- Tackle
- Tendency
- Welcome
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. (And don’t forget to tweet this and share it with your friends.)
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Resources you should check out:
Thesis: Best Damn Theme on the Web
Collective Ink Well: Personalize Your Thesis Theme
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there
{ 69 comments… read them below or add one }
“I feel alive,” says Alex.
“Alive as in breathing or alive as in invigerated and free?” asks Chris.
“The latter. I just feel like dusting today.”
“Dust as in furniture or kick some ass and take names dust?”
“The latter. Death to gloom!”
“Did you say glue ‘um or gloom?” asks Chris.
“The latter. Are you mad or something?”
“Mad as in angry or mad as in off my rocker?
“The latter… Talking to you is like living in a mirage.”
“How would you know, Alex. You’re not even married.”
“No…never mind. God, let me live in peeece away from my friend the idiot.”
“Did you mean peace as in world or piece as in cake?”
“God help me! I need permanent sleep!”
“When you say sleep do you mean a natural periodic state of rest for the mind and body, or a crust of dried tears or mucus normally forming around the inner rim of the eye during sleep?”
“Do you want to get tackled and thrown into a river?” asks Alex.
“Tackle as in fish or football? You know I hate both, Alex.”
“You’re testing my violent tendencies to the max.”
“Who’s Max, Alex?”
“I’m in hell, you know that, Chris? Hell!”
“You’re welcome.” replies Chris, “Let me know when you get back.”
That was great, Shane. (great as in really good, or grate as in “grate on my nerves”?)
@Ma: Ha. Two funny.
I had to read it a second time to find out that the two names had such relevantance to the story.
very good
@Shane-one of your best! Very, very clever!
@Cathy: Thank you kindly. I enjoyed writing this one.
I welcome sleep….It is my friend.
I come alive and problems end.
There is no gloom in shutting down.
I dust my brain in this new town.
My tendency to snack is resting.
Willpower is not prone to testing.
I run and play, without a care
No mirage of chocolate in the air.
No piece of pie to make me mad,
or skipping treats to make me sad.
Just skinny fairies, prancing ’round
And I’m one too, Nordstrom bound!!
@Ma: I hope one day you and Sean start a rhyming, poetry site and dissect the ins and outs of rhyming. I love me some rhyming and I love me some Ma rhymes even more.
No pun intended, Shane, but my rhymes have no rhyme or reason….they just have to sort of make sense and usually be somewhat silly….Glad you enjoy
(I was good all weekend and did not cheat on my diet even once!)
@Ma: Glad to hear you didn’t cheat.
You inspire me Margaret.
@Margaret-loved it as usual-look out Nordstrom!
In order, and strange:
It felt great just to be alive, what with the dust and gloom that was driving everyone mad. In the midst of my observations, a mirage like piece of sleep led me to tackle my tendency to welcome strange events into my life.
Here I was in the middle of the desert, yet I was not thirsty at all. This was because due to some clever sorcery, I had been turned into a camel and my hump stored all the fluid I need. There were also several female camels to hump to my hearts content. The strange part is that the females did not look like camels at all, but rather extremely beautiful human women.
I guess, though I was supposedly a camel myself, the sorcery made me view everything through my human sensibilities, only being aware in the back of my mind that they were actually camels.
I just hope the sorcery is reversible when the dust storm is over, and I can return to my infiltration of the insurgent’s camp.
Moral:
There is always a downside and an upside to a situation.
@Steve: I’d call you a Devil Dog again, but you went and turned into a camel. Well done. Well done indeed.
@Shane – Sometimes I don’t even understand where my mind comes up with things. This is just such an instance. Thanks.
@Steve: As my submission indicates, neither do I.
And I love every second of it.
I’m wondering if anybody will see the significance of the two names I chose.
@sefeug-that is one of the greatest joys about CCC-you never know where the words will steer your mind-well done-I do love your morals to the story!
Ah, Steve….if anybody could manufacture a story incorporating desert bestiality you could!! I do like your strange mind, though.
@margaret – Good to see somebody appreciating my strange mind. Most just shake their heads.
@Steve: I read your comment as “Most just shake their humps.”
Sorry for the duplicate comments…something is going on and they seem to not post and then half an hour later they pop up!
A camel humping a camels hump that isn’t really a camel or even a hump. Sefcug, I nice writing, but I hope a mind like your’s doesn’t cross over to the other side someday and can’t get back.
I walk along the city streets alive with sounds so familiar to me. People pass me by in such a hurry, it seems as if a cloud of dust trails behind them.
I try to smile at a few faces, but their tendency is to either look away or stare at me as if I’ve gone mad. This day, I sense a heaviness in the streets, as if the city is covered with a blanket of gloom.
It’s a beautiful day bright with sunshine, but it might as well be a mirage for nobody seems to notice.
Suddenly,I feel as if I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit in the picture around me.
When I finally reach my home and enter in, I am met with hugs and squeals of laughter.
As I look into my children’s faces, their smiles are a welcome sight.
I know because of their love no matter what tomorrow brings, I can tackle anything!
@Roselee: Welcome to the CCC. I loved your 1st submission, and I know the feeling. Saying hi these days is like jumping out from a bush and scaring them. Same shocked result.
I’ll add your name to the CCC Community Page next. Everyone welcome Roselee to the fun.
Thank you so much for the warm welcome! This was my very first attempt at writing and was quite nervous among you veterans. I enjoy reading the stories and tips from all of you talented, creative people.
@Roselee: Okay Roselee, you’re now a veteran, too. You’ve crushed writer’s block. Now you are ready to kick butt.
@Roselee-welcome to CCC!
If you want to know what it is to be alive, then dust off your keyboard and come on over to CCC. It chases away the gloom and any mad you may feel as you words become a welcomed mirage. You’ll love to read each piece and you’ll learn the joy of peaceful sleep that comes from the satisfaction of sharing your verse.
Each week you can’t wait to tackle the latest challenge and you’ll have a tendency to put off work. It’s an addiction we share, but one that we very much welcome.
Welcome to CCC!
Yo, Shane, typo alert-it should read-If you want to know what it is to be alive
That was great, Roselee! welcome to our little community!
Welcome Roselee. Children can brighten your day. Nice write
Thank you. I enjoy your poems.
Margaret, thanks for the welcome. I love how you can put words together that seem to flow so easily.
Very nice beginning here, Roselee! Welcome!
Thank you Sylvia. I enjoyed reading yours as well.
@ Roselee – I totally agree with the others. This was an excellent start. I look forward to seeing more.
sefcug, thank you. I think you have great imagination with your stories!
@Roselee-well done!
On a dust sprinkled shelf
High above the floor
Placed out of reach
To want nevermore.
Was a golden Twinkie
Filled with cream
The kind sleep welcomed
in a mirage of a dream
Alive with calories
Just a piece would pack
Flab on the buns
Of the Sacroiliac
The tendency to yield
To this delightful sin
Brought gloom and despair
To a soul within
But she failed to tackle
Temptation so bad
So that cream filled Twinkie
Drove Margaret mad
@A Hamilton & @margaret -
I never thought these words would lead to poetry about food and dieting.
I have never been much into poetry, but liked these.
@A: HOLY BLEEPIDY BLEEP! That was most excellent! Your best yet. Take a bow.
Write on.
LOL, A, That was incredibly, mockingly wonderful. Glad I could be your muse. (I once got into a fight with my son because he tried to wrestle PEEPS out of my hand and I ran away laughing and locked myself in the bathroom…he was just trying to help me stay on track)
Thanks guys. Margaret, PEEPS? You ran for sanctuary ove PEEPS? That proves the Twinkie made you mad.
Love it! You are just too clever!
@A-that was one of my favorites of yours! From so many! Loved it, A.
I have a tendency to tackle more than I can reasonably handle. This is true for all areas of my mad, sleep-deprived life.
The dust of all this activity never has a chance to settle; it just hovers over me and my little piece of the world from early morning until the gloom of twilight.
I would welcome a little vacation; visions of the North Rim Lodge appear in front of my tired eyes like mirages, and the quest to get there again someday is the only thing that keeps me alive.
@Silvia: Well done. We all need that lodge in whatever place we know it to be.
@Sylvia-I love when the words seem so effortless and just flow-well done.
My sobs echoed in the room, not dampened by the gloom or the darkness. It had happened again. My recent tendency to fight sleep had become the norm. There was too much guilt for me to welcome the rest that my body needed.
As I entered the dark bedroom, I saw the two boys, fast asleep in their beds. Furiously, I blinked back the tears, clearing my blurry vision and erasing the mirage with it. At first I crept quietly to Jared’s bed, gazing at his peacefully still face that still sported the chubby angelic cheeks of youth. But then like a mad woman I fell to my knees at his side, clutching his small form to my chest as tightly as if I were tackling a football player.
I held him tight, promising myself that if there was any possible way, I would never let him go. But I knew he wasn’t really what I wanted. At his sleepy moans of protest renewed guilt flooded over me, for so many things. For waking him. For wishing it wasn’t him I held. For what had happened.
With hot tears streaming down my cheeks, I glanced back over my shoulder at the other twin bed. Thirty-nine days had left a thin layer of dust on the comforter. Even though it was shrouded in darkness, I knew it was there, ornamenting the too-neat piece-work quilt that lay perfectly flat on top, tucked in at the sides.
The glaring truth attacked me the same way it had numerous times over the past month. Alex was still gone. If only I had been there. If only the accident hadn’t happened. If only he was still alive.
Becca your story gave me chills! You really captured my emotions. Bravo!!
@Becca: As a parent, that was a challenge to read. And that’s the beauty of it. Well done.
Thanks, guys. I met someone yesterday who lost a young child and it was rolling around in my head all night. I wondered what it’d be like if that had happened to me. Needless to say, at the end of the night, I was thanking God for the simple blessing of healthy children.
Wow. Well done.
@Becca-Wow-powerful read.
Watching the raindrops through the dark gloom, I’d never felt so alive. It was no mirage; fall has come!
Today I have the urge to ignore my tendency to tackle everything on my list and then some, to avoid sleep in order to dust, work, care-give, and clean; no, instead, I am seized by a mad joy, every piece of me smiling as even the smell of it permeates our home.
Welcome, fall!
@Sara – Well done!
Thank you!
@Sara-beautiful-fall is my favorite season & you really captured the joy if it!
@Sara: Great wording! I could almost smell the fall air as well.
Thanks Roselee! It’s September, yay!
Jake couldn’t tell from his vantage point if the President was alive or dead. Either way a fall like that should put the old man out for a while. Thoughts of trying to wiggle over to a window and bust out that way, or the equally ridiculous notion of trying to grab the gun and use it struggled to overwhelm him. He shoved them down. He hadn’t got where he was in life by being stupid. Risks were acceptable, but they had to be balanced by rewards and there was no good end to either of those attempts.
There was only one thing to do and that was break the cuffs. His eyes tracked to the fireplace. Without thinking through it too carefully he rolled like a log in water, kicking up a far amount of dust from the carpet. Once he reached the room’s sole heat source, he was able to sit upright with his back to the fire. The next few seconds were really going to suck. The angle was horrible and he couldn’t see what he was doing, but he thrust his bound hands back, feeling for the blaze that first warmed and now scorched. At the same time he pulled his hands apart with every ounce of strength he had.
Jake had been burned badly once. A misplaced RPG from a friendly blew up the vehicle he was in. The ensuing inferno left him with third degree burns over a quarter of his body. The gloom he spent the following months in as he recovered was unforgettable. The small part of his rational mind that still operated in this moment used the fear of returning to that madness to energize his muscles. Adrenaline from the pain and fear combined with the plastic warping heat and with agonizing slowness the bonds loosened a fraction. He could feel them slip. With a grunt and a heave Jake redoubled his efforts. Muscles popped. Tendons sang. Blood vessels burst.
All that tension released and his hands were both suddenly in view. The pain was manageable now which meant when the endorphins bled off he’d be miserable. “No time, no time. Move.”
He had to take care of his feet next. The flex-cuffs there were just as thick, but with one last herculean effort of legs and arms it popped loose. He was free now but his strength was like a mirage.
Movement out of the corner of his eye quickened him. The old man was alive and looked to be coming out of it. Tough old bastard.
Jake moved as quickly as he was able, falling once in his trek to retrieve the gun. Finally he was able to take it in his left hand. His right was like a piece of seared tuna and wouldn’t be usable for days at least. That was alright. He could shoot with either.
The temptation to send President Welborn into that eternal sleep was strong. It was, after all, his mission, but he wanted to know more. Besides, he had one gun with ten rounds and once he was out of bullets even a grandmother would be able to tackle him and make him her bitch.
He slid over to Welborn and nuzzled the gun’s muzzle into thick white hair. “The tendency of people in your place would be to call for help. I’m gonna recommend against it. You’re welcome to take my advice, or leave it.”
@Scott: Wonderful write. I’m lovin’ it. Carry on…please.
Thanks Shane! Working on the next one.
@Scott-I am loving this story-can’t wait for the next one.
Death & the Detective Series
===================
Wasn’t it sweet irony how alive he felt? A soft wind stirred the dust surrounding the lifeless body into a dreary cloud of gloom. Many thought him mad. He thought he was God.
He felt the power surge through his body and closed his eyes to witness his own mirage of pleasure. He smiled to think how well he planned. While the cops bumbled along, trying to solve the puzzle piece he left with the first victim, he had moved on.
Soon he could sleep a blissful sleep. But first, he must tackle the task at hand. Opening his eyes, he slowly moved to the frozen relic of beauty left behind. His tendency was to move swiftly, but he took a moment.
“Welcome to the moment of truth, “ he whispered. “Too bad you won’t be witnessing my glory.”
@Cathy: This is such a bastard character you created! More please.
@Shane-he is pretty creepy, isn’t he?
THE DUSTBUNNY OFFENSIVE
Dust!
The mad tendency to clean everything from top to bottom, upside-down and inside-out, only overtook our household on one occasion when I was growing up: visits from The Grandparents. There was no sleep, no rest at all, while a microscope might detect a single piece of dust or long-hidden crumb in any crevice of our little ranch. The gloom which overcame our mother as she imagined an inspection from The Grandparents was extreme, but not as extreme as the care we were to take as we finished each room, not to step in or breathe in that room again until the visit was over. We imagined that even our breath might leave a speck of dirt behind.
If anyone had asked my grandparents whether they expected such fuss they would have pooh-poohed it as completely overdone, yet when they arrived it was clear that it wasn’t done enough. My grandfather would dust the spotless television console before he could enjoy a Sunday football game, remarking in a vague apology that “glass is such a dust collector”; my grandmother would take out a dish to help make dinner, then head to the sink to scrub the perfectly clean pan for ten minutes or more, trying to remove a film that was, as we knew, only a neurotic’s mirage. Our welcome to them was to make the entire house unassailably perfect, so they could relax and enjoy the visit; their hello to us was to discover or invent its imperfections, unaware of how this crushed my mother’s spirit.
And perhaps, her desire to maintain the neat-as-a-pin abode; we wouldn’t tackle another dustbunny until the next threat of an invasion from The Grandparents.
We were alive and joyous in our slightly dusty, ever-chaotic, well-used… and gently abused… little home.
@Kelly: That was truly funny, and truly sad at the same time. The pain parents put there kids through, huh!
Well done again. You are catching up. I’m so proud of how you’ve caught up. You’re almost there.
Shane,
LOL – chug, chug, chug, the little writer that could is almost there!
It’s a very busy week at MCE but once again, CCC comes through with a break from stress. Catching up is almost better than being caught up, in a way!!