Tuesday Tales: Writing Lonely

Tuesday Tales — step inside! Here is where you’ll find entertaining excerpts produced during smiles, tears, and hours of keyboard dancing. These are unedited snippets by a group of hard-working writers, based on word and picture prompts. You can see our works in progress unfold week by week. The current word prompt is lonely. Make sure to visit the other talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

Hesta Chance lived down a narrow, lonely stretch of road. After an eighth of a mile, I downshifted to account for the loose rocks and uneven shoulders. The fields alongside were thick with tangled weeds but also exhibited some nice oaks and surprising patches of firewheel and scarlet catchfly.

She waited on the porch, a hand shading her eyes from the riotous angles of a late afternoon sun.

I removed my shades and hoisted my shoulder bag, greeting her with a smile as I approached. “Ms. Chance?”

She nodded, moving back a step. Her expression was curious but cautious. I couldn’t blame her for that, since I had told her on the phone that I was trying to extract my stepsister from the clink. She ushered me into a wicker chair and took an adjacent seat. “Lemonade?”

“How nice!”

She poured two glassfuls from a striped pitcher. “It’s cooler out here. If you wait a minute you’ll feel the fan stir up a breeze.”

I looked up at the ancient, slow-moving ceiling fan. “I’m fine, thank you.” I shrugged off my bag and freshened my throat with a tangy sip.

She shifted, smoothing her dress over her knees. “What did you want to ask about? I told you on the phone I didn’t know Kitty Varner or your sister.”

“But you knew Naomi Upshaw, didn’t you—the first woman murdered?”

Her head jerked. “I knew her years back. Can’t say I saw her much lately.”

“After she married Cyrus Upshaw, you mean? When was that—about two years ago?”

“About that.” Her face tensed, and her eyes flashed at me. “Didn’t last long though, did it? Drove his car drove off the ridge six months later, doubtless trying to get away from her sharp tongue.”  She shot to her feet. “Who’s filling your head with tales anyway? Yes, Cyrus used to come around visiting before Naomi got her claws in him. I told him it was a mistake and that she’d bring him trouble.” Her legs seemed to fail, and she sank back into the chair. “Now she’s as dead as he is.”

I sipped lemonade as I studied her. She was obviously still in pain over Cyrus. Enough to kill Naomi?”

Seeming to notice the death grip she had on her lemonade, she set down the glass. “What’s Naomi got to do with this latest murder anyway? Are they thinking a serial killer is on the loose?”

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

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories

All rights reserved, copyright @ 2020 Flossie Benton Rogers