Welcome to Tuesday Tales, powered by a small group of authors, where word prompts inspire passages in the books we’re writing. I’m working on a cozy mystery, Pumpkin Patch Murder. Our word of the day is people. When you finish the passage, make sure to visit all the talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
To my relief I was early for my appointment. I had time for a few deep breaths.
Or so I thought. A voice came from the backseat. “There’s Monroe! Catch him quick. Talk to him. Find out if he did it.” It was ghost Vonna barking orders.
I groaned. “What are you doing here?”
“Go! Go!” she shrieked.
Monroe Dahl had exited the front door of the station and was walking down the steps. I grabbed my purse and hurried to intercept him.
Unfortunately, I miscalculated his direction versus my frenetic speed and, with all the grace of a tipsy elephant, bolted right up against him. The metal buckle and trimmings on my bag slammed into his belly. At least I hadn’t caught him in the you know where.
“Oof!” he blurted, bending over and clutching his stomach. With immense inner fortitude, he closed his eyes and, after a moment, assumed an upright position.
My face flaming, I patted his dark blue, suit-encased arms, as if that would soothe and heal. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Dahl. I wasn’t paying…are you all right? I didn’t mean to…please forgive me.”
Evidently unable to formulate words yet, he blinked and stared at me, his eyes glazed.
I patted him some more. “Are you all right? Would some water help? Do you want to sit down? My car is right here.”
He was nodding, apparently trying to answer my barrage of questions. “Uh, yes.” A look of alarm crossed his features. “No!” He squinted, as if trying to place me. “Oh. Miss Nash, isn’t it? No, I’m, uh, fine.”
His pinched look and gray countenance said otherwise. I mumbled, “Peri.”
“What?”
“Please call me Peri. You’re Monroe Dahl.” Duh! Why was I telling him who he was? Trying to regain some semblance of sanity, I explained, “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“Don’t give it a thought.” His voice was strained, but darned if he didn’t sound gentlemanly. I had the distinct feeling that to get away from the crazy woman was uppermost in his mind.
People were walking by, staring at us. I ignored them. “It’s just that I had to come here today. So did you, and probably others,” I babbled on.
“Uh, yes, well, nice to see you again, Peri.” He moved to continue on his way.
I hopped in front of him. “If you could spare a moment.”
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the piece inspired by the word people. 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
Love it. If her purse is as heavy as mine, it did some damage. LOL great scene.
Right, here, too. I have one that’s all metal-embellished. Talk about a leaning shoulder!
I love the “tipsy elephant” description! So funny but totally believable. Great cliffhanger. I need to know who this guy is and what part he plays in this story. I’m guessing he’s important in some way. Dang. I have to wait to find out.
I’m glad you like the tipsy elephant! Thanks, Jean!
You did it again; grabbed my attention with humor and intrigue.
Thanks– glad you feel the intrigue and humor.
This is the best scene ever! You did a great job with this scene, Flossie. The awkwardness, the embarrassment, the fumbling, the confusion – you captured it all. LOVED THIS!
I appreciate your words so much! Thank you, Trish!
Love this! And I feel for Peri. I, too, stumble like a tipsy elephant when I’m not paying attention. Even though I’m not sure my bag would do that much damage. Great job!
I have done that, too. However, I used to carry heavy purses but don’t any longer. They are too burdensome these days.