Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog featuring authors posting excerpts from works in progress based on word and picture prompts. I’m pleased you stopped by today. This week’s word prompt is square. Enjoy the other talented authors of Tuesday Tales.
It seemed odd to see fresh tire tracks out this way. I cracked open the driver’s door and snapped a shot. My reporter friend, Pam, would be impressed. She was always taking pictures of the most innocuous things, most of which she never looked at again.
I drove closer and parked by the cemetery sign hanging askew between two logs. A remnant of a fence surrounding the area had long been weathered down, with only faint traces remaining. With any luck, Your Forgotten Places would call attention to the Goldfinch Cemetery and draw interest for renovation or a fundraising effort. Opal had seemed to think so when I mentioned the shoot to her, especially since some of the graves were reportedly ancestors of Dulcy Tolliver, Grand Dame of the History League. Hopefully, the shoot wouldn’t turn out the opposite and draw only tourists or worse, vandals. That was a chance you took with such a piece. A saving grace, though, was the fact that the cemetery was not terribly easy to access, and my introduction was not going to GPS it.
The after scent of rain was in the air as I exited the SUV. I decided to look for stones with the name Tolliver and soon found three. One, stating “Nettie wife of AG Tolliver,” was poignant with engraved roses. Butted up against it was a flat square marker with the initials HWM. It looked like a foot stone but wasn’t arranged as such. I snapped each stone individually, and then backed up for a shot of all four.
I realized I could hear the faint sound of cars whizzing by on the interstate. On the map it had looked close but was not actually visible from here. Another sound penetrated my consciousness, a low humming, like a big tractor. Well, there were always farms on the side roads around the interstate, lands that hadn’t been bought out or pieces left over from a buyout. I was actively listening,, trying to determine the direction, when I heard something else—the crunching of leaves. Someone was coming.
His face appeared first as he crested the hill. Fair hair, short on the sides but with a tuft hanging down into his eyes. He looked about fifteen or sixteen. He wore a faded tee-shirt and old fashioned overalls. Worn work boots had made the hearty crunching sound. Catching sight of me, he stopped and stared. He spat out a dandelion stalk.
I hope you enjoyed the snippet based on the word prompt square. 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
Excellent descriptions, Love the “spat out” a dandelion stem. Well done.
Oooh, glad you like the “spat”– thanks!
I really enjoyed this. I can’t find a ‘like’ button. Could you direct me to ti for future use? Have a lovely day. Take care.
Katy, the LIKE button is just below the post, beneath the red copyright sentence. Thank you!
Ah! I know he’s a teenager but I’m kind of creeped out. Fantastic job describing the scene. Now I need to know more!
Hmmm, interesting, Tricia! Thank you.
Talk about cliffhanger!! Now I need to know who he is. Love your setting the scene. I swear I can hear the interstate and the tractor, and even the crunch of the leaves! Way to go!
I’m glad you can hear the action in the scene, Jean!
Wow that creeped me out!
hahaha good to hear.