Tuesday Tales: Writing Rose

Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring diverse authors posting excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a book hungry bunch that enjoys reading as much as you do. This week’s word prompt is rose.

My excerpt started out to be from the same book I’ve been working on– a paranormal fantasy in which a goddess occasionally inhabits the body of an archaeological assistant. It was going to feature dog roses, an ancient wild rose that thrived in ancient Crete. Instead, the snippet below is what came out. It turned into a different scenario, emotion, and use of the word rose. Whether it still fits into the goddess story is unknown at this point. Read excerpts of the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

From the night’s silence came a few desultory plucks of the strings. And then more, and more, until the streaming moonlight shimmered in silver tinkles. Her muscles tightened. Her cells began to vibrate. Her heartbeat quickened in rhythm with the stirring music. As if awakening to something long forgotten, her body swayed and her head swirled low, hair sweeping over the blue tiled floor. Almost of their own accord, her sandaled feet tapped out a pattern and then skipped in airy abandon. As the notes rose, so did she, leaping toward the white glisten of the high ceiling. The room became a blur as she twirled. On and on. She was one with the music.

Finally, the tune slowed. Intervals stretched out. A last note sounded. She fell upon the padded bench, lightheaded and laughing. She could barely speak. “Why did you stop?”

“Isn’t it time?” He placed the instrument aside and rose from the floor. His black hair and clothing punched the white air. Power surged off him in waves. The intensity of his dark eyes sobered her, held her captive, though her body still vibrated in song.

The dance had been hers, but the music belonged to him. She doubted a lyre was needed. Like a painting the last few moments froze in time and space. Like one of the vivid frescoes adorning the atrium wall. Wouldn’t she always be able to see it, feel it? She thought it must be so. Something had been created outside themselves. Something tangible.

It wasn’t enough.

Moving toward him, she reached out a hand. “You mustn’t leave after one song. There is still much to do.” Her voice cracked. “Stay with me.”

A wisp of sadness settled over his features. “I’d give my last breath to do so.”

I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt rose. Thanks for stopping by. Return to Tuesday Tales.

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance