Tuesday Tales 2024-1-23 Water

January is flying by! We had a cold weekend and a wonderful family gathering on Saturday, outside by the fire pit under the moon and glittering stars. The Snickerdoodles made smores, while my son grilled delicious turkey breasts. I love family time. Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. Today’s prompt is water. 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.

I did as he said and, after thanking Officer Parrish and dragging a chair to the door for her, I hurried upstairs, undressed, and pinned up my braid. I was careful to pull the plastic cap completely over it before getting into the hot shower. The edges would frizz up anyway, but maybe not as much. I didn’t have time to take it down and redo the braid, much less restyle it loose. Anyway, who cared? There was way too much going on for my hair to be a priority. Afterward, thoughts still racing but feeling slightly refreshed from the shower, I stood with a towel wrapped around me and examined my face in the mirror. The sight made me grimace. I swathed a drop of frizz control gel onto the escaping hairs and swiped a smudge of pale coral lip oil on my mouth. Pants, socks, boots, and a warm sweater constituted my attire.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I headed downstairs and into the kitchen, passing Officer Parrish on the way. She was in the chair, fiddling with her phone and looking serious and alert. On my way out, I gave her a saucer of cookies, a bottle of water, and my phone number in case she needed to reach me before I returned. “Help yourself to coffee or anything in the kitchen,” I offered, and headed to my car. I spotted two other officers still on the scene. Both were in their vehicles, one in the middle of the parking area and the other at the road entrance.

The one and only time I had been in the Glisten police station was back in middle school when a group of us were brought in for truancy. The objective had been to scare us straight. We had skipped the second half of a school day to support a local band making an appearance at the Square. The band had made a record, and three of the members were hometown boys from Glisten—my brother Johnny, Roy Deason, and the third member of Triad, Gage Jardine. They were all fresh out of community college, in their twenties, and had yet to experience the loss of a record deal and eventual tours of duty overseas.

Despite the trouble after Robin’s and my photos appeared on the front of the newspaper the following morning, it had been a stellar and unforgettable day. I could still hear Gage’s husky voice singing lead, see Roy intently picking lead guitar, and my brother having the time of his life on drums. Why couldn’t perfect times stay perfect?

With that unanswerable question tormenting my fittified mind, I drove the half mile, parked, and entered the police station.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word water. 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

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