Tue Tales: Writing Gray Crags | Flossie Benton Rogers, Author

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 the word prompt is gray. My snippet is from a fairy tale. Enjoy the other authors of Tuesday Tales.

The blustery wind howled across the gray crags. Ella drew her shawl tighter, although it gave puny protection from the cold setting in as night approached. Who was this strange old woman barring her way? If only she had stayed home and not bolted out in anger! Now she would be in more trouble than ever and likely denied supper. “If you please, ma’am, allow me to pass.”

A cackle escaped the age-lined lips. “Your impudent tone belies courteous words.”

She lifted her chin. “Who are you?”

“I am called Cyneth. And you are Ella—yes?”

“How is it you know my name? We have never met.”

“Have we not? Come closer, child.”

Swallowing, Ella took a step.

Cyneth wagged a gnarled finger in her direction. “Late for supper again, eh? And scampered out on your chores. The mistress will have the broom awaiting this time.”

“She wouldn’t dare!”

“Or perhaps she will leave it up to the master. I’ll wager he has had enough of your ingratitude.”

A shiver sped up Ella’s spine. Had she really pushed things too far?

Icy gray eyes crinkled with malicious mirth. “Aye, you’ve done it this time, little Ella, but don’t look so stricken. The situation can still be salvaged.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? How?”

“Mayhap I will trade places with you for the night. If you turn back up the hill to my cottage and take my place hearthside, I’ll go down and suffer your punishment.”

“Why would you do that?”

Cyneth gave a lazy shrug. “On occasion I like to display my – let us say – goodwill.”

“But they will know it’s not me.”

“I will assume your size and countenance for the night.”

She frowned, thinking of the many stories about wise women with special powers. Obviously Cyneth was one. “What must I do at your house?”

“Nary a thing except dine on the soup simmering in the kettle, if you’re hungry that is.”

She could not believe her good fortune. “Very well. I heartily agree.” She made to go around the elderly Cyneth.

“Hold! We must shake on the pact.” A gnarled hand was extended.

Ella squeezed lightly with an impatient smile. She thought of encouraging the old woman to hasten and, therefore, perhaps lessen the punishment, but then she realized old Cyneth would be unable to hurry.

As Ella made her way toward Cyneth’s cottage, her breath became labored. The climb was not that steep. Why was she so tired? She seemed to be moving as if in a mire. To her horror, her hand as it pushed opened the door was aged and withered. With a trembling sigh, she half fell into her seat by the hearth. In the far distance she thought she heard the clear tinkling of a girl’s laughter.

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

Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance