Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. Fittingly for this time of year, the word of the day is gift. The most precious gifts in life are family and friends. Let’s all cherish our connections in the true spirit of Christmas.
This excerpt is from a WIP, book 8 of the Wytchfae series, a paranormal fantasy romance entitled Silver’s Angel. It features a supporting female character from Lord of Fire and a rockstar named Lucien Silver. When you finish the passage, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
With an ample number of catfish on the stringer trailing alongside the skiff, and breakfast a distant memory, Lucien and Cooley dug into the lunch Vaneta had insisted they take. Both men had worked up a hearty appetite. They unwrapped biscuits filled with slices of ham, cakes of leftover grits fried to golden perfection and, to satisfy Lucien’s sweet tooth, a jar of fig preserves.
Lucien stuck with the inevitable chicory coffee. Declaring himself “coffeed out,” Cooley opened a jug of tea. A half hour of silence ensued, punctuated by sounds of chewing, as they enjoyed the meal and allowed the boat to gently meander. When Lucien was full to the brim, he used a final swallow of coffee to wash down a grits cake slathered with preserves. Afterward, he bagged the trash and leaned his elbows on the gunwale with a satisfied grunt. “I could live this way,” he enthused. “You’ve got it made. You work hard. You eat better than most. You’re a lucky man to have your own spot of heaven out here with Vaneta looking out for you.”
Patting his stomach, which had the beginnings of a pooch, Cooley replied, “Don’t I know it, boy!”
Lucien surveyed the sky. It was the bluest of blues, reminding him of Angel’s eyes. Here and there, wisps of barely-there clouds caressed the blue. His fingers itched to paint the picture in music. The faintest hint of a melody tantalized him. He wished Angel were here, enjoying lazing on the river with him. He didn’t know if she’d like it, but he thought she would, at least for a little while. The lifestyle was honest, down to earth, hard-working blended with easy-going. He told Cooley, “This has been a perfect week, man. Thanks again for not chewing my head off for taking so long to get here.”
“I knew you’d be back in your own good time. Just make it quicker from here on out. I’m no spring chicken anymore.”
“I know you think I was a mess when I first showed up, but hell, I was worse before. Angel helped me see some things. I had been thinking I should give up music.”
Cooley shook his head. “Shuck off the parts you don’t like, but not the music. Your magic has always been about music. It’s your soul gift. Treat it like one.”
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word gift. 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
