December enters in splendor, with all the fun family festivities! I hope you make time to spend warm, wonderful days with your loved ones. Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word and picture prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. Today’s word prompt is strong. My snippet is from a cozy mystery set in fictional Glisten, Georgia. When you finish reading, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
At the lilting sound of a woman’s voice instructing me to go to the library, I jumped up, ready for bear.
I saw nothing and no one. “Who are you?” I demanded, looking this way and that.
A soft laugh tinkled out into vacant spaces.
I set the book “Cliffs of Gold” on the desk and glared around.
“Get going, girlie!” This was another voice altogether.
I whirled. Except for me, the study was empty. No one stood behind me, neither human nor spirit. Or at least not a spirit I could see. Yet this latter command had been as clear as if the person were right here. An icy chill radiated against the back of my neck. I wasn’t imagining things.
The growling voice had been a man’s. It was dense earthen gravel mixed with tobacco and a teaspoon of whiskey, raspy, gritty, and guttural.
Again, I was struck by the feeling of being watched. I narrowed my eyes. “Well,” I said between gritted teeth, not strong on being told what to do, and especially not by a duo of disembodied voices, “I do believe I’ll go for a walk.”
The cherry sweet, peppery aroma of a cigar assailed my nostrils. An orange streak shot across the floor, streaking within an inch of my ankle, and spun around in circles.
I swiveled and twisted to watch it. Ire overpowered the unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The specter bolted to the wall and disappeared. A gravelly, echoing chortle followed.
“Hey, whoever the blazes you are, why don’t you go bother Luella? See how you like a chunk of her rolling pin!” Before anything else could happen, I grabbed my purse, moved double time out the door, and hurtled myself down the sidewalk.
For a couple of blocks I walked fast, putting distance between me and my beloved inn. My beloved and very much haunted inn. The soft voice with the tinkling laugh might be the floaty lady– who knows? But the growling voice? The orange whirling dervish? I needed a little time away. I might go to the library, and I might not. As I slowed my pace, a cold gust brought on a shiver. I remembered seeing an ad for mulled blackberry wine at the Sidecar Tavern. It suddenly seemed requisite. I punched in a text to Robin. “Free for a drink?”
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word strong. If you haven’t done so already, check out the other excerpts at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories
All rights reserved, copyright @ 2023 Flossie Benton Rogers
That gave me chills just reading it!! Great way to intrigue and spook me at the same time. Now I need to know who those ghosts are. And mulled blackberry wine sounds perfect for a day like today. You put me right into your stories. Great job!
Glad it gave you some chills! Tonight is our coldest night so far, though it will not be freezing, and the mulled wine does sound welcome.
I love this description, “The growling voice had been a man’s. It was dense earthen gravel mixed with tobacco and a teaspoon of whiskey, raspy, gritty, and guttural.” Eerie scene. It takes guts to stand up to a variety of spirits like that. Well done.
So glad you liked that line! Thanks, Susanne.
Oh wow! I still want to know what’s in the book but being ordered by two invisible ghosts would terrify me. Wine sounds good to me too. Great job!
Tonight it’s cold here, and the wine sounds good to me, too. Wish I had a sip.
Love it. So much going on and interesting to see what happens next. I love the hurtling down the sidewalk part. Can see it! Jillian
Glad you find it interesting. Thanks, Jillian!