Creative Copy Challenge Short and Not So Sweet

Blog conceptNeed my weekly dose of all things non-business.

Creative Copy Challenge, my favorite word prompt site, is the perfect short and sweet treat.

Here are my most recent submissions. The challenge words are in bold.

Creative Copy Challenge #381

The tactile bonding replaced all they could not see.

The vertical leap into rugged terrain left them gasping for breath.

Extending inflamed arms over a field of stubble.

Kissed by a setting sun as it flickered into darkness.

The roof of social despair crashing into the night.

Creative Copy Challenge #382

“After extensive research, I’ve come to a conclusion.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Scott?” Lieutenant Michael Stapleton snapped at his partner.

“Murder, LT. My research of all things murder. I’ve concluded murder sucks.”

“That’s your profound conclusion?”

“Yeah, all the evidence points to it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“True. But a versatile idiot. It’s why you love me.”

Michael shook his head. How had two less-alike individuals been partners for so many years? Without killing each other? Lieutenant Michael Stapleton had been a murder cop for more years than he cared to remember.

His partner of a half dozen years, Detective Jason Scott, often said Mount Rushmore had nothing over the lieutenant’s scowling carved countenance. Always the jokester,that Jason. But a damn fine detective, Michael thought. He’d never let on how much his partner’s wit rescued him from a life filled with too much death.

“Well maybe you can use that versatile idiocy of yours to get into the mind of the killer.”

Legally speaking, the accused killer, but then we’ve overblown the legalities of such things.”

“What is that sound coming out of your mouth? It sure as hell isn’t helping.”

The latest serial killer was working his way through the city. The body count was up to five and they seemed no closer to capture than the day the first body was found floating in the city’s water tower.

The next was dumped on a local beach. A bloated body of blubber from death’s cruel indignities. The least of the victim’s worries. Three more followed. All abandoned in a watery casket for their final resting place. A life stolen from an unknown future by a killer they could not catch. Yet.

Murder enraged Michael. He would remember each victim’s name more than his own. Long before he joined the force, he witnessed the inhumanity of man as no child was meant to see. The victims had become family. And that simple truth drove him.

“Earth to Stapleton.”

“What?”

“Do you think this shirt makes me look fat?”

“You’re an idiot.”

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Live…Laugh…Love

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BigStock Photo Credit

Springtime, Any Time for Creative Copy Challenge

Blog conceptI’m back from sunny San Diego (and I do mean sunny).

I took Mom there for her 92nd birthday. Other than one day when San Diego had record-breaking heat, the trip was quite cool.

So I come back to the first day of Spring and it’s time to catch up on my favorite writing prompt site, Creative Copy Challenge.

The following are the latest submissions. The challenge words are in bold.

Enjoy.

Creative Copy Challenge #377

The shock of yet another battle with her sister left Mary reeling. When had their relationship changed? Their twin-like bond as children had deteriorated into resentment and constant bickering.

Mary’s heart ached as she recalled Sandra’s last call.

“What do you mean you won’t be coming?”

“Sandra, I told you. I’m going to be out of town on business.”

“Nice how you invent these reasons to avoid our family gatherings,” Sandra sneered, “You treat us like an out-of-date coupon that’s lost its value.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Sandra shouted as she slammed down the phone.

Tears tracked down Mary’s face in silent release. She agonized over how she could fix the tarnished chrome of their once shiny relationship.

Endless nights tormented Mary as she tried to solve the mystery that brought them to this place. Satellite visions of past encounters circled in painful review. Sandra had become someone Mary did not know.

Submitting to the hurt only intensified the sense of hopelessness. This was foreign territory. The baby sister had to save the woman she had lost.

Sitting in her car outside Sandra’s home, Mary felt a trickle of sweat track down her spine. Had their sour relationship come so far? Mary fearing her own sister?

With a deep breath, Mary used the increasing pump of her heart to push her from her car. This could not go on.

Mary gasped her sister’s name at the sight of Sandra’s battered face as she collapsed in a sobbing embrace, knocking the sisters to their knees.

Creative Copy Challenge #378

The editing mower choked with the cacophony clang of clamoring commas.

A spray of syncopated syllables silently screamed.

Exclamation points engaged in coughing conflict

As the grammatical growl of words defying edit pushed on.

The punctuation portrait prowled with cat-like prowess

Ready to spring into a word count catastrophe of epic proportions.

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Live…Laugh…Love

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BigStock Photo Credit

 

Creative Copy Challenge Time

Blog conceptI remember as a child singing along with the Howdy Doody song.

I feel like we should create a song for the word prompt site, Creative Copy Challenge.

♫It’s C-C-C time. See how I write now. I write words with no rhyme. It’s simply C-C-C time.♫

Okay, maybe not.

Instead, we’ll just jump into two of the latest challenges.

The challenge words are in bold.

Creative Copy Challenge #375

Time is our turf and our thoughts its functional voice. Do we fill life with holidays or torch the scenic coast?

The keys that form our personal tune are there within our reach. Are we diving in with crescendo delight or spiraling in accidental sound?

What influence will we take? Will our thinking be bold or do we blink in fearful prose?

Creative Copy Challenge #376

The silent walking path meandered through rolling hills of birth. Trees stretched in the early dawn, extending bony fingers of tinder with the first sign of life.

The encounter was as old as time as the vintner made his way down the cellar steps. His roots were European but all he cherished was here along the Russian River.

The startling views peppered by majestic redwoods danced along the shores of the Pacific. Coastal breezes and maritime fog kissed this special space in time.

His safeguard. His home.

The pressure of the past had no foundation here as he prepared his grapes for wine that would make a gourmet weep.

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Live…Laugh…Love

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BigStock Photo Credit

Creative Copy Challenge Time

Blog conceptYep, it’s that time again.

A leap into Creative Copy Challenge, the word prompt site, and this week’s set of words.

I love how I never know where the words will lead me. This was short and maybe not so sweet. But certainly had my murmuring, “Hmm…”

The challenge words are in bold.

Creative Copy Challenge #373

If we could but expand our mind beyond all that is real, would we breach the knowledge that binds?

Could another path hold our attention in the subtle shift toward tomorrow?

By avoiding our past, will our expression change like urban slang rising to a new situation?

Would we stamp out accusation as we mimic a new script in time?

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Live…Laugh…Love

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BigStock Photo Credit

Creative Copy Catch-up

Blog conceptToo much work and too little time has kept me away from my beloved writing prompt site, Creative Copy Challenge.

So, it’s Creative Copy Catch-up time.

The following are my latest submissions –

  • From the most current
  • And going backwards
  • Definitely short – and maybe not so sweet
  • Hey, it’s almost Halloween

The challenge words are in bold.

Creative Copy Challenge #357

As I run through another interview, my inner muse shouts at me for neglecting my CCC. At times, I wish I did not have my hereditary disease of always putting work first.

The dynamics of time swirl words like an ocean wave never reaching shore.

Ideas, the intoxicating liquor of my soul, remain bottled in echoing silence, seeking a systemic release.

My fortune is endless as I look to fill the neglected muse.

Creative Copy Challenge #356

We go sailing along, taking little notice of all we hold dear. Actions become rote, as we reduce all that is not the same.

Our dreams slither home in Anaconda motion to constrict the routine we bank on.

A storm of radical thoughts is brewing. Our functional life is disturbed. We grasp for what we know, fearing all else will render us extinct.

We are in survivor mode. We break free of the treacle sound of complacency.

Creative Copy Challenge #355

The magic Marcus used to levitate his words was gone. Lost in a steroids world of bloat, his enemy spewed a storm of excess.

Brilliance trapped in a cage of his own making, he no longer held the key in the palm of his prose.

The surge of the attack trampled all in its path and many cried out as the horse he rode reared in repugnant victory.

Creative Copy Challenge #354

The gentle breeze kissed her cheek with suspicious tenderness. She inhaled the destruction of a gusty past that settled on her heart like wet sand.

Her thoughts wandered the wilderness of toffee memories, both sweet and darkened with the passage of time.

She would sell all she owned to silence the monotone whispering of all she had known if only to be free at last.

Creative Copy Challenge #353

The architectural debate dissatisfied Michael’s need for control. He listened to the panel drone on, their mouths on a diuretic path with no anecdotes.

How had he gotten here? While others would ostracize him, the ambiguity of being an invited guest did not escape him.

He scanned the audience, resembling a sea of penguins in pretentious suits. All here for philanthropic show.

His festering resentment seeped through the insulation of civility, clearing the way for a crotchety response.

He rose to polite applause.

Creative Copy Challenge #352

The cruel words were a tack in a troubled soul. Cramming their way past the appointed guardians, the protective wall fell like crumbling granite.

Mary rocked back and forth as she crooned a web against the acid attack. Would her feelings ever be rubberized from the caramel flow of abuse?

In her mind, a low shriek drowned out the sound of another moonless night.

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Live…Laugh…Love