Tuesday Tales: Writing Prompt

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 prompt. My snippet is from Silver Angel, a Wytchfae prequel to Lord of Fire. Enjoy the other authors of Tuesday Tales.

The old woman led them into a sparse but cozy kitchen and prompted them to sit. Around the table were chairs that looked artistically hand-hewn. She was evidently a person of hospitality but few words, as she turned away to tend a kettle on the stove. She reminded Lucien of a character from an old folktale—homespun but mysterious. He wondered why she lived in the middle of the woods like this, with no roads or discernable paths. His brow furrowed—also, how had Angel known where to find her?

He edged his chair closer to Angel, relieved she had been able to resume her human form. “You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”

“Don’t look so worried.” She patted his hand, managed a smile, and cocked her head toward their hostess. “Hot tea will revive me.”

Their hostess set an oval tray on the table. “And bland crackers. They’ll help settle your stomach.”

Angel reached for a cup. “Thank you…Granny. Mmm, good. Ginger?”

“Yes, with a few other ingredients. My own concoction.” Her eyes glittered. “Don’t care for tea, lad? Maybe a draught of Irish is more your style.”

He brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “Tea is fine.” He picked up his cup and tasted. It was a strong, vibrant brew that tickled his tongue. His surprised look elicited the ghost of a smile from Granny.  He in turn was becoming more flummoxed by the minute. It was as if she had been expecting the two of them to walk miles and drop in for tea.

“And your name?”

“Lucien Silver.”

“We’ll come back to you. You are not why you came.” She looked at Angel, her gaze steady and unrelenting. “Angel. You are fae, but not.”  Her regard deepened. Her words became halting and intoned as if spoken from a well. “You are a type of shifter, but not the usual…a sith perhaps? Are you a fae familiar?”

Angel nodded and squirmed in her chair.

A jolt hit Lucien, and he sought to handle his expression. What the hell was a fae familiar?

Granny gave him a toneless glance and then returned her attention to Angel. One gnarled forefinger tapped the table. “Fated to be bound to your mated fae for a lifetime. Some liken it to a charm, some to a curse.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt prompt. 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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