Tuesday Tales: Writing String

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 string. Enjoy the other talented authors of Tuesday Tales.

I climbed the stairs, fleetingly aware of the old portraits, landscapes, and other small touches along the way. Miss Opal was all about vintage. It was one of the things that made us, as Dad used to say, simpatico. Following her directions, I arrived at a door at the end of the hall. Peering in, I saw a lovely, immaculate room that smelled of lilacs. The centerpiece was an antique four-poster bed covered with an obviously hand-crocheted spread. I knew basic crochet but had never tackled anything half so intricate.

A creaking came from close by, and then what sounded like the forced closing of a door. Frowning, I tiptoed through the room and into the adjoining dressing room. It was empty. No sign of ghost or human. The room was dimly lit with one ornate lamp. Shadows loomed in the space like giant cobwebs. A small box chest stood on its side, rings sprawling. Clumped on the three-mirrored vanity was a mass of jewelry—mostly strings of pearls, but other types of beads, pendants, and earrings as well.

I pulled myself up short. I wasn’t here to spy on the personal possessions and habits of the lady of the house. Quickly I sorted through the jewelry. Satisfying myself that the peachy signature pearls were not among the cluster, I cast my eyes over the rest of the room. Maybe she had set down the necklace upon being informed of Kitty’s untimely arrival. A gleam on the window sill caught my attention. When I picked up the object, it wasn’t a pearl at all but, rather, part of a man’s cuff link, gold with a tiny green stone set in the middle. Afraid it would be overlooked, I tucked in it my bag to give to Miss Opal.

I jumped when a door slammed. It sounded as if it came from outside but also echoed strangely. Knowing it was probably a dinner guest popping out for a breath of air, I looked out the window anyway. A figure below dashed away from the building and toward a wooded thicket. Shaking my head in puzzlement, I turned with the thought of selecting a substitute string of pearls from those on the vanity. Just then I saw the peachy ones I had been searching for. They were on the floor, protruding from beneath a tall, narrow bookcase.

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

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories

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