As a newlywed, beautiful Celia was graced with all the resplendent Creole characteristics of her genetic heritage. But time had taken its toll. Gravitational forces had also been unkind. Too much alcohol had damaged her skin. Her stately posture was lost to the deplorable menial task she had taken on to dredge forth the mystery of her birth.
Was the mystical wooden box real? In her mind she again overheard Franz’ words to the old groundskeeper, “The box contains her birth records. We can demand a handsome ransom if we can just find the box.” He added as an afterthought, “Riches will materialize at our fingertips.”
“Franz,” she had said, “For a wedding present let me surround myself in a flower garden. I love to work the gardens. The exercise will keep me healthy and beautiful.”
So for twelve years she had shoveled, weeded, seeded, and pruned. Twelve years!
“What’s this?” She bent over. A block of decaying wood. The box and the papers! Both so decayed they would prove nothing. She would tell Franz tonight that she had found an old box and decaying papers in the garden. Twelve years for a moment’s reward as he sees the papers are too decayed to use for a ransom note!
Her reward? That moment – plus the jewels that were undamaged by the years, now safely stored in her travel bag.
Challenge to use at least ten of the following words in a story. Creole, alcohol, dredge, gravitation, deplorable, afterthought, materialize, newlywed, mystical, groundskeeper, wooden box, resplendent
Image Rashid Sadykov, Unsplash