Writing Prompts — Creative Copy Challenge # 397

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 challenge words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH.

  1. Petrichor – the smell of earth after rain
  2. Penumbra
  3. Leisure
  4. Languor
  5. Lagniappe
  6. Inglenook
  7. Ingénue
  8. Felicity
  9. Evocative
  10. Ethereal
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13 Comments on “Writing Prompts — Creative Copy Challenge # 397”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    “The assignment, class, is to deconstruct this computer-generated poem.” Moans greeted this announcement, of course, because Lytton 3000 was as horrible at sonnets as its namesake was at prose. Still, Professor Fenwick could find nothing better to challenge his genetically enhanced students.

    With all the theatrical flair of Quentin Tarrantino, the Professor lowered the lights and raised the presentation from its hard drive hibernation:

    Upon the rug with open book
    Reposed the ingénue.
    Penumbra framed the inglenook
    Defrocked her pinkish hue.

    Instead of fresh felicity
    Our lass looked rather wan.
    Her languor was duplicity
    Tho’ none was there to con.

    Despite the sallow countenance
    Which, after all, was fake,
    She flushed with enforced abstinence
    And swore that vow to break.

    Her nose detected petrichor
    She rose to greet her paramour.

    Somewhere around the middle, several girls began to titter, while the boys shifted uncomfortably in their hard wooden chairs. The professor, delighted with the effect of this evocative selection, offered them a literary lagniappe.

    “Class, this is what you get when you remove the pre-teen filter from the software. Now, at your leisure, you should experiment with explicit filter. I’ll give you the password once you’ve completed this assignment.”

    An ethereal gasp escaped from the student body—a collective sigh—at the teacher’s manipulative treachery.

  2. KathleenMK says:

    Mitch ~~ I love this. I am a teacher like your Mr. Fenwick I believe. (I say with a snicker, snicker, and yet another snicker.)

    “…manipulative treachery.” — yep that describes it best!. Bravo. Now I am off to write an entry these teens might find with the right key.

    heheheheeehehehehheee,

    Kathleen

  3. Sorry I haven’t been around. My 6-month-old computer crashed requiring a new operating system. Then we had family visits. Those are my excuses and I’m sticking with them. 😉
    ======

    The pleasant petrichor of the evening’s rain was an enigma to the unfolding scene. Her heart raced from thoughts creating a penumbra shadow of fear over logic.

    She did not have the leisure of time. The languor of the night seemed to scream its silent threat. Her escape had already provided a lagniappe lapse from where she’d been.

    She lingered as long as she dared in the inglenook of towering oak trees. She had to move. She was no ingénue who passively awaited her fate.

    And so she ran. Her bare feet no longer registering the slaps and stings of the ground debris intent on pain. Her harsh breath became a rhythm of escape. Burning lungs rasped out their support.

    Lights extended a beckoning reach, wrapping her body in the warm felicity of hope. Evocative images of home raced through her against the ethereal backdrop of memories of a better time.

    Home. She wanted to be home.

    “Hello precious. Where are you going?”

  4. KathleenMK says:

    Okay ~~ I had to finish this one before I joined on you all in the next challenge!
    She took a deep breath, breathing in the petichor that wafted up from the previously ground.

    “There is something ssssoooo …” she paused searching her mind for the right word, “… so nearly pure about that smell.” She filled her lungs with it again. I can almost feel the rain’s cleansing my lungs, she thought. “I swear it is the ground’s perfume that is tickled to life by the rain …”

    “Like the scents that waft up from a lady’s cleavage while she is dancing,” Dillon added to his love’s description. “Look,” he said pointing up to the sky and back to the lake’s surface. “Look, where the clouds are parting you can just see the eclipse and if you look on the lake you can see the penumbra as well.

    “Well, that is a lagniappe isn’t it?” Isabella asked knowing how trying her love’s day had been and how he appreciated even the little bonuses in life.

    A smile grew on his face before he turned to her. “I am sorry I was late today. I so wanted to try the lake’s waters with you,” he said stoking her arm; raising more then just goose bumps on her.

    “Please do not worry. I leisurely awaited your arrival, right here on this porch. Me and that book, some good coffee and the sunshine that was interrupted by that wonderful downpour.”

    “Well, I am sure glad you decided to stay up here on the mountain you saved yourself from the languor of the valley floor. The temperature did not drop nor was I blessed with any air moving across my skin until I nearly reached the base of the mountain again, on my way home.”

    “But your trip, down the mountain … it was a successful one?” she asked as she sat up.

    “Oooohhhh yes, yes it was,” felicity filled his voice.

    “When are you going to tell me what was so important that you had to go back down the mountain into that oppressive heat when you could have had all of this,” she said fluidly moving her hand in the air above her body like Vanna White with new puzzle to show off.

    The evocative nature of the question had his smile growing.

    “Well, I had to pick something up,” he said raising the bottle of Argentinian red wine, pouring more into both of their goblets. She looked doubting at him. “Okay, this Criss Cross Meritage Red could not be passed up.” She tilted her head to the right a little more. “It is a Bordeaux varietal blended with… oh I am not sure, but it promised to have hints of black fruits – whatever that is – and earth flavors; I had hoped they did not mean dirt – and then some wood.”

    “Humm, will it blend well with your wood,” she said with an ethereal tone that made him stop dead in his preverbal tracks.

    She lifted the glass to her lips, took a sip.
    “UUUmmmm,” she moaned before swallowing.

    “At least it does not taste like Inglenook,” he said with a smirk as he took a drink from his glass.

    “No… no it does not… remember I hid those bottles in the cubby of the inglenook, in the cabin.”

    Dillon leaned his head back and allowed a belly laugh to escape before speaking, “No, I don’t think anyone will think to look beside the fireplace for those bottles of wine,” he said lifting his glass to her’s.

    A light clink could be heard.

    They sat enjoying the wine and the sights in front of them; each other.

    Minutes later the silence was broken, “Would you like to join me in the water?” she said as she set her glass down and rose to her full height. His eyes were transfixed on the form in front of him. She stepped out of her sundress leaving it in a pile where it landed, previously around her bare feet.

    She turned slowly toward the lake and began taking steps toward the water’s edge. A moment’s hesitation interrupted her deception down the bank as she passed and looked back over her shoulder at him.

    “Well? Are you going to just sit there or will you be joining me? Will I have to get wet all by myself?” Isabella purred.

    He kicked off his shoes, stood while unbuckling his pants. As they collected in a clump he stepped out of them as we walked toward her.

    She could see from his body’s attentive reaction, he like what he saw. She smiled and waited while he grew closer.

    “Are you sure the water will not be too cold my love,” Dillon asked of his bride as he wrapped his arms around her bare torso. He hesitated, drew his hands back around her sides disengaging his touch for a moment as he took his shirt off; only to have his hands return to her torso along the same soft path.

    A soft sound escaped her throat as his full frontal plan of warm skin gently made contact with her waiting skin.

    “I don’t think I will notice the temperature of the water,” she said leaning her head back toward him. “But you should take me to the water now, before some random hiker might see how much I love your touch.”

    Slowly, achingly she stepped away from him one slow step at a time. The hungry lover in her reached back to take a hold of his flesh, making sure he would not stay on the sore just watching her.

    As her mere touch encouraged him to follow her. He said, “there is not one thing ingénue about you my love.”

    He brought his hips closer to her; his lips brushed the skin and then she was gone, out of reach, bounding into the water splashing, childlike. She stopped, turned to face him. She smiled with the water settling around her waist as she enticed him.

    Moments later he joined her in the water.
    ….

    • Anklebuster says:

      And a moment after that, I bet the water steamed away! This is good stuff, Kathleen. You plan on publishing these?

      Cheers,

      Mitch

      • KathleenMK says:

        Well thank you Mitch… I bet the water did boil! 🙂

        And well… yes, my plan is to try to have a collection of short stories ready for publishing around Christmas time.

        Working title is:
        Romantic Shorts – For When You Only Have Time For A Quickie

        Hence, also why I have been sticking to the fun stuff instead of other stuff. hehehehehheeeehehehe.

        What do you think? Marketable?

        Kathleen

  5. KathleenMK says:

    Mitch ~~ “Sub-niches” wow… now I have something to look up. And thanks! CCC has been good for me and the Love in the Air!

    Kathleen


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