Chad scrunched his brow, tapping the turntable with a desultory forefinger. The sculpture rotated slowly, displaying all its sides, seeming to delight in its own ineffable shimmer and elegance. It almost winked at him, whispering “You don’t get me, do you?”
He shook his head and turned away to pour another dram of Scotch into the ceramic mug, one of the first pieces Susan’d submitted to apprentice with him. He threw back the Scotch and grimaced at its bite.
This was her crowning glory?
Yet there was something…artistic genius he couldn’t grasp.
The student had bypassed the teacher.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (07/30/2020): In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that uses the phrase “her crowning glory.” It can be in the traditional sense of a woman’s hair or applied to any idea of a best attribute. What happens if you play with the meaning or gender? Go where the prompt leads!
Valley of the Trolls 
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The birth of artistry and not fully understood by the master who was mastered. Like the add of Scotch to the mix. I hope he comes to see he did well, too.
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I enjoyed this so much. I was a potter in another life, I could relate.
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Assuming as Susan… 😀
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