Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge # 546

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 before and after each of your challenge words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH! Or, as cleverly done by a CCC-er you can CAPITALIZE the challenge words in your piece.

1. Acarology
2. Viticulture
3. Oenology
4. Asteroid
5. Radar
6. Pandora
7. Compost
8. Crepe
9. Remembrance
10. Alteration

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9 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge # 546”

  1. Anklebuster says:

    Gerrie Shamba, Keeper of The Pandora Pillbox, shimmered into Siberia on June 29th, 1908. She removed the time-traveling hat from her head, reached into it and withdrew a handful of infected ticks. She sprinkled them onto the ground before returning the hat to her head. In twelve hours, an asteroid would explode over the region and–Gerrie hoped–destroy the ticks. She hustled back to 2018.

    Back in her acarology class, she suppressed a giggle as the professor frantically searched the lab apparatus for missing ticks. She had prevented him from discovering the cure for tularemia, a nasty bacterial infection that causes lesions and pneumonia. Her mirth faded as she tuned in to the babbling professor:

    “Y’all don’t understand! I was set to test the efficacy of doxycycline. We have to find a cure before the California resurgence spreads!”

    Resurgence? What the hell was he talking about, Gerrie wondered. She flipped through her textbook to find tularemia. She re-read the description of the origins, which she knew was in a county in California. Aghast, she noticed, for the first time, that the disease was discovered in 1911! Her time-line alteration was off by three years!

    What else had she missed during her other expeditio tempus? She slipped out of her seat and left the classroom. The only other class where she had indulged in mischief was Oenology 101. This silly elective was designed to promote responsible interest in viticulture, an important field of study here in the Napa Valley. Gerrie had been bored with the professor’s lecture, which he pompously had entitled, “In Remembrance of Bacchus.”

    During the droning monologue, Gerrie had shimmered into the Prohibition-era Napa Valley and deposited a beakerful of the phylloxera root louse into the compost heap used by the Charles Krug winery. She was certain that she had gotten the date right, because the history books that traced the development of the region mentioned the combined effects of the ruined vines and Prohibition.

    Gerrie had no idea what to make of the 1908/1911 resurgence of tularemia, as there was no corresponding resurgence of the root louse. She decided to try another experiment. This time, she would deliberately “warp” into 1896 Russia, to interfere with Alexander Popov’s discovery of radar.

    She shimmered right into Popov’s kitchen, where he was enjoying his breakfast crepe. He was scribbling notes on scrap paper. As he got up to place his plate into the sink, Gerrie ran over to the table, scribbled out the words, “interference beat, detect object?” and hastily returned to 2018.

    She found herself in a different world. In a nearby shop window, she looked at the scrolling text beneath a newscaster:

    “King Adolph Hitler III vows to end ethnic cleansing; cites pressure from Wal-mart Global, whose employment rate has been in decline since November.”

    • KathleenMK says:

      Mitch ~~~ Okay… wow! I am only on the 2nd sentence and I am intrigued and creep-ed out. Okay, back to reading. :]

      Wow! What a great way to express the ‘what ifs’ in life. Bravo. You had me captivated within the first paragraph.

      Thank you for the escape today.

      Write On,

      Kathleen

    • I love it, Mitch! “What if” we had a bored time traveler armed with the knowledge of history, a heart full of good intentions, and a poor grasp of data science? Maybe it’s just as well we don’t have time travel yet. We have plenty of the other stuff.

  2. KathleenMK says:

    “I sure am glad the asteroid burnt up in the atmosphere,” Shannon said lifting the goblet of golden liquid to her lips. Tilting her head back ever so slightly she took a refreshing sip of blend of the oaky and buttery compressed Chardonnay grapes.

    “No doubt it would have affected the pioneer founders of Acacia and the climate they would have found here in the Los Carneros region,” Rick said in agreement.

    “The reality is … oenology would, most likely, have never been put into practice in this valley. Nappa would not be the California focus of viticulture it is today,” Bonnie added in her own two-cents.

    “Well, let us toast to the pino and the chardonnay, as it goes so well with the brie, the salmon, the salad, the sunset,” Stewart said lifting his glass of pino. “And the cleavage,” he added half under his halted breath as his radar was detecting that which lay, within reach, under the layered peach fabric.

    The four glasses came together hovering above the center of the table. The breeze picked up. The light layers of Bonnie’s crepe skirt fluttered flirtatiously at Stewart. Well, that is, at least how Stewart interpreted it.

    A light clink resounded off of the sand stone patio walls. Each drew their glasses back, lifting them to their lips, fully aware of the long lived unexceptionableness of not sipping from one’s glass after a toast is made. After all, they were not worried, as some in the 17th century, that the wine would contain position and spillage of the possible poisonous liquid into each others’ glasses was necessary; especially since they had been friends for decades now.

    “And in remembrance of the old, let me attempt, without alteration,” Rick began, halting only to look at the notes he had pulled out of his pocket, “to be the dutiful best man,” he said, clearing his throat ceremoniously before speaking again. Lifting his glass he began again, “Here is to your coffins. May they be made of hundred-year-old oaks, which we shall plant tomorrow,” Rick said holding up a gift certificate for the Woodlands Replant Project. “May you both live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live. May the best of your yesterdays be the worst of your tomorrows. Here’s to you both … Mister and Misses Abernathy.”

    Glasses were raised again as Stewart and Bonnie smiled lovingly at each other.

    “Here, here,” Shannon, the made of honor, said, before finishing the contents of her glass.

    It was then that the waiter came to the table.

    “Miss Shannon, may I bring the dessert round at this time?”

    “Yes. Yes that would be perfect,” Shannon said with a smile.

    “Okay, let me get these out of your way,” the waiter said as he collected the dinner plates.

    “What dessert did you set up for us Shannon?” the bride quested of her bestie.

    “Well, I know you did not want an elaborate cake, so it is crepes and port,” Shannon said with a smile as the waiter approached with a tray. A bus boy, quick on the waiter’s heels, unfolded the chrome tray stand. The waiter lowered the 24-inch tray on to the chrome held together by the two straps of black webbing.

    Hey, that looks like a tall version of the suit cases holder in the hotel room, Stewart thought as his mind was beginning to focus on taking his bride back to the Honeymoos Suite.

    The waiter came to the left side of Bonnie, placing a plate down in front of her, “Here you are Misses Abernathy.” Bonnie beamed at the sound of her new title.

    He then moved to the left of Stewart, Shannon, and then Rick – repeating the delivery of the Huckleberry and cream filled rolled wafer-thin egg and milk pancakes. He stepped back to the tray. He rocked the cork back and forth until it gained freedom from the neck of the Tawny Port bottle. Placing a tapered rimmed crystal cordial glass in front of Shannon first, he poured a scant amount into her glass. Shannon, a fan of fine glassware, was drawn to the shape of the 3-ounce clear glass that sat atop a 2-inch stem. She knew that the hippiness of the vessel was beneficial as it gave way to a controlled opening that allowed the consumer of whatever liquid it held to permit one’s nose to enter the opening of the glass. The design of the glass allowed for Shannon to use her olfactory senses to focus on the sweet aromas of the dessert wine.

    After inhaling she lifted the stem tipping the glass until the dark red liquid entered her mouth. The 20-year-old Tawny Port by Taylor Fladgate that she had ordered delivered a rich and elegant set of flavors. She detected dried apricot, butterscotch and white chocolate. Just before she swallowed she sensed smoke and toffee flavors.

    “Yes. Yes this is just as I remembered it,” she said with a nod, approving the pouring of the port. As the waiter began placing cordial glasses in front of the others and filling all four of them to the waist of the glass Shannon directed her comments to the bride, “I think this is the one we had at that house warming a few years ago. I remembered how much you liked that. I hope I choose the right one for you to celebrate this inaugural evening.”

    Bonnie took a sip. “Yyyyuuummmm. This beats acarology any day,” laughter escaped from both of the ladies.

    Rick and Stewart exchanged stares then shook their heads. “It must be a personal joke between the two,” Rick said lifting his glass to his lips.

    “Oh no… it’s a paper … or study …” Stewart tired the libation. “I think threatened to write about a darn near Pandora‘s box of compost where they hoped to breed mites and ticks; let alone convince everyone that it was a valid study.”

    “This is the port I fell in love with at your house! OOOhhhh how sweet of you to get this for us tonight!” Bonnie said willing herself to stop laughing.

    “I hope it goes as well with the Huckleberry crepes as I hoped,” Shannon said, encouraging all to take a bite of the dessert.

    Nearly simultaneously the four picked up their forks and cut into the delicacies that sat waiting for them. Rick put the forkful of creaminess into his mouth. A smile grew. Shannon knew their plan to have a successfully gourmet experience be a memorable highlight of the couple’s wedding day worked out just as she and Rick had planned.

    The waiter came back to the table, silently pouring a second round of port.

    “Well, would you like to take the port back to your room or would you like a bottle of champers or Old Vine Zin?” Rick asked the newlyweeds.

    “Oh man, we don’t want you to have to leave just yet,” Steward said as he devoured the last fork-full of crepe.

    “Oh, we will not be leaving just yet, but the waiter has slipped me a note and that special tub has been all set up for you, just as you asked, and you don’t want the water to get cold, now do you?” Rick replied. Bonnies eyes began to sparkle with excitement.

    “What have you done my love?” she asked.

    “Oooohhhh, nothing yet,” Steward said with a chuckle.

    Rick waved his hand at the couple. “Go. We’ve got this,” Rick encouraged.

    “Go on. It’s your night to celebrate. We will be doing our own celebrating. Don’t you worry,” Shannon said tracing hearts on Rick’s arm.

    Stewart pushed his chair out. Standing, he lightly pulled on the back of Bonnie’s chair. She stood to her full height. It was then a booming voice could be heard.

    “Attention everyone,” the voice commanded. Everyone looked to see the maitr d’ calling all to attention. “I would like all to join me in congratulating and welcoming the newly joined lives of Mister and Misses Abernathy. Please, please join me in lifting a glass and toasting the many years to come for this couple in love.”

    The 20 patrons and staff lifted a glass of water or wine, whatever was handy, waiting for the toast.

    “To many many years of wedded bliss,” the maitr d’ said looking at the couple. Steward nodded, Bonnie curtsied. Moments later clapping erupted.

    “It is time for us to go,” Steward said to his bride as he placed his hand on the small of her back.

    “We will see you tomorrow?” Bonnie asked.

    “Maybe for linner,” Shannon said with a Cheshire grin.

    “Okay,” Bonnie said accenting her words with a school-girls giggle.

    “Don’t forget this,” Rick said handing the half empty bottle of port to Stewart.

    “Honey, would you grab the glasses?”

    “Oh yes, that would be helpful. Wouldn’t it,” she said just before the newlyweds turned to go to their room.


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