Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. Today’s scene is from a cozy mystery set in fictional Glisten, Georgia, and our word of the day is slow. When you finish reading, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
The elderly woman receded in view, a spry figure pedaling slowly up the incline in the road before disappearing over the hill. I worried briefly about her safety but knew she’d been successfully using her preferred mode of transportation for at least a decade. I glanced toward the door of the food bank but opted not to go back in. My hand was still warm where I had clasped the witch’s burr. It was burning a hole in my pocket, and I wanted to look at it. I headed toward my car.
At that moment, however, the shop door opened and the lady in charge came running out. “Did Miss Alma leave?”
I continued edging toward the car but turned to respond politely over my shoulder. “Yes, she was heading back home.”
“Oh dear. I hope she didn’t hurt her back. I usually walk her out and help carry her bag, when her grandson is not with her. But that family came in and couldn’t find a thing they were looking for. I had to help them.”
“No worries. I helped her load up.”
“She’s a bit much, isn’t she?” the woman asked, shaking her head as if in commiseration. “A real character I mean.”
“A ball of energy for sure. Always has been.”
She eyed me with curiosity. “You’ve known her a long time? I’ve lived here five years now and haven’t seen you around before.”
Disinclined to tarry but not wanting to appear rude, I halted outside my car and explained briefly about my recent relocation and invited her to visit Tea Thyme once we reopened.
She readily agreed to do so and expressed her best wishes for my godfather.
At that point I made a mental note to have business cards made up denoting Tea Thyme and also showing my name. They might be useful in reacquainting myself with the fair town of Glisten, and vice versa. Realizing I’d probably forget, since my brain was obviously brimming on overload, I made another mental note to ask Robin about some kind of phone app to record my intentions. I opened the car door, slid in, and pushed the ignition button.
The food bank lady was still talking a mile a minute through my car window as I nodded, waved gaily, and rolled away.
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word slow. 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
Not always easy to get away from talkative people. Well done.
I love this character. Yes, I know how annoying people can be when you want to leave and the insist on continuing the conversation – even if only one-sided. I was wondering if there was anything sinister in her attitude. Decided probably not. Just a lonely lady who needed to talk. I love your characters. So very real!
Oh, people like that can be so irritating. Love how she escaped the talkative woman and I can’t wait to learn more about the Witches Burr. Great job!