Tuesday Tales: Writing Tragic

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 so pleased you can join me today. This week’s word prompt is tragic. I decided to write a short short story for Halloween. Enjoy! Visit the other authors at Tuesday Tales.

Enid rose early, excited to put the final touches to her ghostly tea party. The past two weeks had been manic flashes, and not even a bad cold brought on by the first autumn chill had waylaid her efforts. Undaunted by mere happenstance, she plowed on. The signature event was planned to the last detail, from the auspicious guest list and unique invitations to the sumptuous delicacies from the far corners of the earth. It would be tragic if this year’s gathering was not the most glorious yet.

Despite the growing prestige of her annual get-together, she kept the guest list to an intimate number of interesting ladies from times past. Several were renowned in public circles, while others were lesser known but admired for their accomplishments or historic significance. Waking them up from eternal slumber was no great feat for a spiritualist such as herself, since the veils between flesh and spirit were thin this time of year.

The clock struck nine. Dressed in a floating Victorian concoction, she opened the door at the first knock. They promenaded in, elegant in the finery of their times and with excited whispers of wonder at the trouble she had taken for them. They gazed around admiringly at the delicate hand painted china, selection of exotic teas, finger sandwiches, bonbons, salted nuts, and sugared fruits.

“Choose the cup you desire, ladies, and be seated near the hearth. The various teas and delicacies are in easy reach. Aren’t you gratified we have a warm fire on such a blustery night?”

Mrs. Bradstreet nodded, the firelight glinting off her eyes. “Yes, my dear. We are also pleased you issued the invitations before it was too late.”

Enid frowned. “Too late? I don’t understand.”

Of one accord her guests swept forward, crowding closer to Enid, encircling her, pressing against her so that it was hard to breathe. She gasped, startled.

Lady Alma cackled. “She is not aware. She doesn’t realize.”

Faces suddenly looked emaciated, and grins eerie. Fear clenched her heart, cracking her voice. “Realize what?”

Mrs. Bradstreet turned away from the fire, her eyes glowing red. “Why, that you are one of us now, my dear.”

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

Cheers & Happy Reading!

Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic in Romance