Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. The word of the day is family. This is from a work in progress, book 8 of the Wytchfae series, a paranormal fantasy romance entitled Silver’s Angel. It features a rockstar named Lucien Silver and Angel, a supporting character from Lord of Fire. When you finish the passage, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
Angel drove slowly down the country lane, her hands tight on the wheel. Though she hadn’t been out here in over a month, the road was familiar. She knew where to veer to the right to avoid the worst of the ruts and where to speed up over the thick deposits of sugar sand. An unmaintained country lane deep in the Florida woods was less likely to be invaded by curiosity seekers, Sunday drivers, or people with bad intentions. It provided an aspect of safety for Finnglaring’s orphan fae familiars.
Her hands were clenched tight for a reason other than wheel control. Like a death knell, Hugo’s taunting words played over and over in her mind.
They had been at dinner in an upscale club, waiting for the band Silver to take the stage. As her manager and watch dog, Hugo expected her to order her signature vodka soda and green salad. She was always attentive because extra weight could easily jeopardize a model’s career. For some reason a streak of rebellion had burst to the surface, and she had ordered French fries. Maybe it was because of the stimulating intro music. Maybe it was because Hugo was acting more like a controlling pompous jerk than usual. Maybe it was because she was hungry for fries.
He accused her of endangering their lucrative enterprise and berated her for being a country mouse who didn’t know anything about anything.
“I know there’s more to life than making money,” she had shot back.
A moment passed during which she could see the icy rage bursting to come out, one foul word at a time. “Tell that to your rag tag clow—family,” he had sneered. “Ten to one they’d disagree.”
Hugo’s words had chilled her to the bone. For years she had kept her true nature a secret. She had kept her family a secret. The safety of the orphan fae familiars depended upon secrecy.
Clowder was the word for a cat family. Hugo had started to say clowder, and then had changed it to family. Had he discovered her secret or had she misheard? She had told no one, absolutely no one in the human world. The dark dread in her abdomen said that her Finnglaring family was no longer safe. She was no longer safe.
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word family. 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 @ 2025 Flossie Benton Rogers
