Tuesday Tales: Writing Black

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. I’m pleased you stopped by today. This week’s word prompt is black. My snippet is a little flash tale in honor of Halloween. Enjoy the other authors of Tuesday Tales.

He was beginning to think taking the stupid dare for a shortcut through the old Civil War cemetery hadn’t been the best idea in the world. A ten spot or no ten spot, he wished now he had told his jerkwater friends to piss off. It was as dark as the devil’s eyeballs out here. A pale sliver of moon spent most of its time hiding behind puffs of black clouds. When the crescent did occasionally pop free, it did little more than cast an eerie greenish glow on the lifting mist. As it was, he could barely make out the impression of a trail. Every now and then he pressed the tiny penlight on his keychain to make sure a path was still there. It wouldn’t do to fall over a half-sunken headstone.

If only his friends hadn’t been so rowdy, making fun of his usual roundabout route, he’d be on the edge of the road going around the old cemetery instead of plowing right through it. He pushed the button on the penlight again. The path was an old one, worn from past years when folks used to picnic out here where their relatives were laid to rest. He shook his head. What an asinine thing to do. Well, at least he’d get a few bucks for his late night hike. After all, the cemetery wasn’t that big, and the old stories were just that—stories. Men who hadn’t made it home and were never seen again—puh-lease. They had likely beat it across the state line to get away from wives and nagging bosses, or parents who wouldn’t shut up about joining the Army or getting a job.

He looked down at his bare forearms and jerked his hands from his pockets. Shadows cavorted on his flesh. He looked up. The moon was floating above him, still a sliver but casting shadows all around. Sounds of movement filled the air. The shadows grew, crowded around him, and seemed to be marching in unison with him. His heart leapt up to his throat, and he froze stock still. Hands from all sides propelled him forward and a voice spoke up. “Keep marching, Jack. We’re glad to have you join us. We’ll show you an even better trail. Come on now. Come along with us.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt black. Thanks for stopping by. Read the other winning excerpts at Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance

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