Writing Prompts -Creative Copy Challenge #389

This is a writing prompt. Bet you can’t do it! Take the 10 random words below and crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story! And remember: after (if) you finish entering your submission into the comment field, 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.) NOTE: Our bolding plugin is gone, so you’ll have to put<b> before and </b> after each of your words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH.

  1. Moiety – one of two equal parts
  2. Mondegreen – a word/phrase that results from a mishearing of something said
  3. Onomatopoeia
  4. Panacea
  5. Quintessential
  6. Ravel
  7. Sempiternal – eternal and unchanging
  8. Talisman
  9. Untoward – unseemly, inappropriate
  10. Vestigial – in trace amounts

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.)

10 Comments on “Writing Prompts -Creative Copy Challenge #389”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Somewhere near the former town of Clinton, Ohio. The date, if chronology were still relevant, would be noted as Tuesday, February 7th, 3037. Two transcendent humans are chatting.

    *Bleeb*: Have you seen the morning paper? The Question of the Day? The thing I would miss the most if I had been a time-traveler from 1967? Definitely serendipity. I understand those were delightful.

    ^Blob^: Yep. Hard to ravel my glions to sort that. As for me, I would have to say that I would miss having a head around which to wrap such meaty concepts.

    *Bleeb*: If you swim in polyethylene glycol from sunrise to sunset, you’ll be able to sense your vestigial brain stem.

    ^Blob^: You pervert! I would not be so blatantly untoward!

    *Bleeb*: Hey, nothing wrong with a little introspection. Our ancestors called it navel-gazing.

    ^Blob^: You do know that omphaloskepsis was debunked eons ago.

    *Bleeb*: Onomatopoeia? what does that have to do with meditation?

    ^Blob^: ZOMG! Are you guilty of clever punishment or did you pull a mondegreen out of your waxhole?

    *Bleeb*: Having had a split-second to think about it, I call a baker’s six point five.

    ^Blob^: Ah, the moiety of your double-entendre question twists upon itself like the quintessential Möbius strip.

    *Bleeb*: That is very astute, you. Wordplay is an endless loop that—nevertheless—exhibits dual meaning at every point along its sempiternal enamel strip!

    ^Blob^: Ooh, ooh! My turn! The earnest limp permits élan.

    *Bleeb*: Marines lept while airmen slept.

    ^Blob^: Arrgh. You win. Let’s have a look at the Puzzle of the Day … “What is the difference between prevention and cure?”

    *Bleeb*: Duh . One. talisman has 8 letters, panacea has 7.

    ^Blob^: Nope. According to the editor, the answer is fifteen because an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

    • KathleenMK says:

      Mitch ~~ Bravo! You Did IT! All awhile making me chuckle with Bleeb and Blob… I look forward to reading more from them!

      And by the way, great way to use this list and wrap it back around to the beginning.


      • Anklebuster says:

        Thank you, Kathleen. I can see you are going to be a tough curator for whom to write 🙂
        You have inspired the creation of Bleeb and Blob, so they’ll be around. LOL

        Also, thanks for noticing the continuity. I wanted to convey the typical “over the fence”, lazy summer day conversation. Seems even Transcendentals enjoy Creative Challenges 🙂



    • I ♥ your brain, Mitch. Wish I had a moiety of the creativity. 😉 This got me laughing===> Hard to ravel my glions to sort that.===> and the rest just kept me smiling. 🙂

  2. Late again. Ah, look at those words. Reminds me of the old days with Shane. 😉

    If you cannot conquer the challenge, you are only a moiety of the writer I thought you were. What is the worst that could happen? You create a mondegreen moment for the listeners of your words? Your keyboard explodes in onomatopoeia clacking?

    Relax. The challenge is a panacea for a ho-hum world. It offers the quintessential joy of the written word. Yes, meaning may ravel in sempiternal confusion, a talisman to a sound we struggle to pronounce.

    While some will find this an untoward response, others will smile with a vestigial twinkling of understanding.

  3. KathleenMK says:

    “You ever warn handcuffs?”

    Isabella shook her head. Did he just say what I think he said? she questioned silently hoping her ears had heard a mondegreen.

    “That’s a bit of a salty untoward question,” she said, “especially since we are on our first date.”

    “Well, I wanted to see if you were actually listening to me,” Mark said with a smirk. “After all, that ‘Gravity’ song can cause anyone to daydream.

    “Well then,” she said bringing her chocolate and raspberry martini up to her lips. She began pay attention to the song playing over the loudspeaker.

    She listened to the sultry voice of Sara Bareilles: “You hold me without touch, you keep me without chains, I never wanted anything so much….”

    He’s a romantic, hummmm, she thought as she licked her lips at the possibilities that sat in front of her before she took a sip of her drink. He may still have a chance at being the moiety to myself, yes he might.</em

    Months later, after weekly dates had increased to more than three, in any given week, they sat eating yet another meal together. The sun was making its way down to the horizon. He noticed the glowing sphere as he looked in her direction. But the relaxing sunset did not hold his attention long. His eyes followed the large orange ball down, down, down; quickly his line of sight fell upon her. Her sundress allowed him to see bare shoulders. A blue and white spaghetti strap only momentarily interrupted the smooth line of her tan shoulders. His eyes followed the line of her bare neck up, stopping at her chin. He couldn’t help but notice her medium pink tongue escaping her mouth trailing across her tantalizing lips. His tongue played peekaboo in a near involuntary response.

    “Oh my,” she laughed heartily and then, because he liked seeing her laugh so much, especially as it was often a universal panacea, he continued to make a goofy face. “Oh my … ono mato poeia myself… stop! Stop!” Deep breath. Take a deep breath, she coached herself.

    “Are you two interested in desert?” the waitress asked, not sure she should interrupt, but knowing that her boss was watching her she waited for a response. ‘Interact with your customers more,’ his words rang in her ears as if he had just spoken them, when in reality it was two hours earlier.

    “No. No thank you,” Mark offered up. A playful smirk began to grow on his face. “I’ve got desert planned at another location.” Isabella’s eyebrows raised in response.

    They did not wait long for the check to be brought to the table. After paying the bill Mark stood, extended his left hand out to her, “Join me for a walk, along the beach?”

    “Yes. Yes I would like that a lot,” she said laying her hand in his. He allowed his fingers to gently enclose around her fingers and he moved to pull her chair out with his other hand.

    The quintessential gentleman, he laid his hand on the small of her back, lightly guided her to walk in front of him and then beside him as they exited the restaurant.

    “I noticed you are not wearing any stockings this evening … would you like to take your shoes off and walk in the sand barefooted?”

    “Shoes off he took notice of my skin verses stockings… hummm good. … yes that would be fine,” she said looking for a place to sit. She evaluated, decided the rock at the head of the ramp to the look like a possibility. But before she could move closer to it he dropped to a knee in front of her.

    “Let me get those for you,” he said reaching for her left ankle. His hand cupped her about the Alkalis tendon. He lightly increased the pull, by mere ounces and she allowed her foot to lift off the ground. Simultaneously, she leaned forward placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. He slipped the strap from her heal and she slid her foot out of her shoe. He set the shoe on the ground beside him and she placed her bare foot down as well. He next placed his hand around the back of her other foot. She shifted her weight onto the bare foot and he pulled the shoed foot forward placing it on his thigh above his bent knee. As he did, he allowed his hand to travel up her smooth tan leg.

    “I love the feel of your skin,” he said not looking up. She sighed as he began stroking her calf. With each upward stoke his hand traveled higher on her leg. On the fourth, or was it the fifth upward movement his hand caressed the back of her knee and her inner thigh.

    There was a vestigial of moister building … on his brow (note to reader – almost gotcha).
    Minutes passed before she stood bare footed in front of him and he rose to a standing position. (And yes, reader, his hand lingered on her skin as he rose to full height.)

    “May I take these to the car?” he said holding up her shoes, “I have something to get from the car before we head down to he sand,” he explained.

    Feeling a little unraveled from his mere touch, she welcomed the break she would get, the time to clear her mind from where his touch had taken her.


    “You’ll wait here… for me, to come back… right?” he asked as he began to head off to the car.
    “I’ll be right back,” he said encouragingly.

    Moments later he returned with a soft sided ice chest, a blanket and a smile.

    “Shall we?” he asked.

    “Yes,” she said smiling from ear to ear, as she took his arm and they walked down to the sand.
    They found a spot that suited them. He unfurled the blanket spreading it out on the sand and invitingly motioned for her to sit. She did and he knelt beside her on the blanket.

    He leaned in close to her and whispered, “The sunset pales in beauty to you.” His lips gently brushed her cheek as he pulled away.

    He unzipped the cooler.

    “I hope you don’t mind me deciding, for you, if you will, to not have desert at the restaurant around others?” he asked as he pulled out two acrylic champagne flutes handing them to Isabelle.

    “Eeeeemmmmm no, no I don’t ever mind spending time with you w of others,” she said as she let her eyes follow the lines of his arms to his chest and down his stomach, onto his thighs. The movement of his arms caught her eyes as he pulled a small blue box out of the bag.

    He turned toward her. She tilted her head and waited as she was not sure what was going on.

    “I know we have been seeing a lot of each other,” he said swallowing hard.

    “Yes,” she said softly.

    “Well, my feelings for you have grown to such a level,” he hesitated, “so much so that they have become sempiternal, I dare say.”

    Raising his head, he stopped when their eyes made contact. Good, she is still here and she isn’t looking at me like I have two heads. She is smiling. Wow. “Well, here. I got you a little something. I hope you don’t mind,” he handed the box to her with shaking hands which gave flight to the butterflies in her stomach.

    “Ooooohhhhh, way… thank you,” she said as her cheeks became flush.

    “Let me fill those,” he said turning to pull the bottle of Chandon Etoile Brut. He nervously began chatting about the wine as he tore the foil off of the long neck and bulbous head, “this was rated a 93. It promises to be smooth, creamy,” like your skin he kept this to himself as he untwisted the wire, and grabbed a hold of the base of the bottle with one hand and the cork with the other and turned the bottle.

    The pressure was building below the cork and aided in the pushing up and out of it. The building pressure was not limited to the bottle. He felt it in his groin.

    Stop thinking about her soft skin. Focus. Focus on the … anything but her lovely soft skin and her shapely legs,” he chided himself as he turned to fill the glasses she held up for him at a slight angle. He poured the lightly golden liquid in the flutes.

    She waited for him to sit before handing him a glass.

    “And here is to a lovely evening, with just the right person and a well-chosen desert,” she said raising her glass to his. They both sipped.

    Unsure the review of this wine was accurate he waited for the liquid to hit their taste buds. Oh I hope they are right. It just can’t taste like swill. This night has to be just right, he thought watching her reactions.

    She sipped and held the liquid in her mouth allowing the bubbles to dance on her tongue. The corners of her mouth raised. She swallowed.

    “UUmmm, not bad,” she said setting her right hand, palm down on the blanket. Leaning back on it she brought her eyes up to meet his gaze. She became flush again. “Do you like it?”

    “Yyeess,” he, “And the Champaign isn’t bad either.” She smirked at his comment.

    “So… what’s in the box?” she asked.

    “Well, I am not going to tell you, that would ruin the surprise, now wouldn’t it.”

    “Can I have a hint?” she coyly said cocking her head toward her right shoulder lifting the glass to her lips again.

    “All I can tell you is … it is a talisman of sorts,” he said leaving her to wonder – a talisman of his or mine or ours.

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