The Curse of a She Wolf

Friday Fictioneers – hosted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields

Read all the stories  HERE

The wonderful Dale has given us a picture of a garlic string to stir our imagination and taste buds. I understand that the greatest benefit from garlic is to eat it raw in salads. Does anyone really eat the cloves raw?

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The Curse of a She Wolf

Radiant with the beauty of eternal youth, Silvia enchanted a fluttering of men like lavender surrounded by buzzing bees.  Four of her husbands died of broken hearts and the fifth during a moment of rampant ecstasy, and she howled pitiless that night. It was her curse to devour the passion from the souls of men.
In Vulcan, the women called her ‘She Wolf’ and fortified their homes with strings of garlic.
Late afternoons, wearing fine leather and furs, she would ride her sleek stallion to lure a lusting youth.
By midnight, her mourning and howling would haunt the mountain villages.

What Lasts Forever?

My apologies I missed last week – I seemed to have run out of ink.

This week’s Friday Fictioneers from Rochelle

Read more contributions with this link.

What Lasts Forever?

It was a dare; we ran naked along the beach.
Months later, the best man embarrassed us. Who told him?
You decorated and choose pictures for our home.
One day you said, “Nothing lasts forever.”
You left and disappeared.
I never liked your taste in art, and I was pleased to dispose of our differences.
But you were wrong.
When I close my eyes, I am with you under the moonlight; swimming.
I dream of us bobbing in the warm water; floating with promises for eternity.
Without your spirit, I flounder in this lonely depth of my dark despairing sea.

Peace on Earth

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple – Friday Fictioneers – click to read more.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Peace on Earth.

I love the solitude of walking in the park; it reminds me of you asking to play ball with me. Afterwards, we grew in love sitting on a bench talking of brilliant futures.
I am alone tonight since Old Joe with his terrier are in the hostel. He once said the park was his kingdom of peace on Earth.
I believe him.
The snow muffles sound, and the crunch of footsteps are reassuring as I retrace my memories.
It has been years, but I can feel you holding my arm and see the snow sink with your footsteps by mine.

Meet Me by the Amaryllis

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisof-Fields

More Stories Found Here

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Meet me by the Amaryllis

Julie called and told me to meet in the Biosphere by the amaryllis flowers.
Don’t be late, her excitement was infectious. I suspected, she had great news from the fertility clinic.
I booked a table at Antonio’s for later.
Emergency vehicles blocked 5th Avenue and because of the long detour I was late.
Where was she?
The flowers were beautiful – I wondered if they would miss one for Julie’s hair.
I could say it had fallen onto the floor.
It’s not like Julie to be late, I checked my iPhone.
I read the news; three dead on 5th Avenue.

Piano For Sale

Friday Fictioneers – Read other stories here.

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Piano for Sale.

‘It’s in the cellar. Each flat has a storage cage.’
She moved the boxes and we squeezed past towards the piano.
Our noses touched. I felt her heat; she brushed against me to open the lid.
‘You should get it tuned.’
As I played “Liebestruam”, I felt her breath in my ear.
‘You play so perfectly.’
She wrapped herself onto me, her chin on my shoulder.
I played on; my knees quavered, my heart in tremolo and I ached for her.
Poco a poco, our breathing accelerando.
‘You must stay.’
We were strangers, in love with music.
Ci baciamo adagio.

**
(We kiss slowly)

Forked Tongue – James McEwan

Forked Tongue

The good people at Literally Stories have picked my contribution – Forked Tongue – as their Sunday read. They have included some background information on what inspired me to write the story from my time living in Berlin.

Please read the story here: Literally Stories – Forked Tongue – James McEwan

Let the Literally Stories team know if you enjoyed the reading experience by leaving a brief comment on their page.

Many thanks to Leila Allison for selecting my work as a re-read on their site.

 

My Grandmother’s Bucket List

Friday Fictioneers – The Gang

PHOTO PROMPT © Linda Kreger

My Grandmother’s Bucket List

She sky-dived, and landing she broke her ankles. The family came to help.
She would race across the Sahara; a push but worth a try. Then she’d climb Kilimanjaro; her second option since her doctor suggested the cold on Everest would aggravate her arthritis.
What does he know?
Her colostomy bag will float as she swims the English Channel. A trek along the Great Wall of China, a canoe up the Amazon and visits to the Taj Mahal and Machu Picchu.
Her bucket list was growing.
If only the gang could navigate the way out of the care home carpark.

Beryl my Zombie Girlfriend

Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Beryl my Zombie Girlfriend.

Meet me in the scary café, she had said. Her favourite place.
I was on my second, deep black death coffee, it was delicious and tasted like reconstituted tar. Where was she?
Yea, what a fun place.
Try the putrid burgers, the dried blood is to die for, she had said. Don’t mind the wiggly maggots, they taste sweet with the  sauce.
Where is she?
People are staring, I fill with a desire to hug them, and stroke their soft necks.
My new overwhelming compulsive urge.
Beryl promised to teach me.
Being alive and dead is awesome, she had said.

Is she coming?

Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Is she coming?

Wait by the plugs, she had said.
Where is she? My stomach tightened, and I strode around the display.
I looked at the tickets; the train leaves in ten minutes.
Her father; did she tell him?
We booked Gretna Green for tomorrow morning.
I saw her and picked up my bag.
‘Come on Aileen, let’s go.’ I took her arm. ‘Where’s your suitcase?’
‘John!’ She stood and squeezed my hand. ‘I can’t.’
Regret rippled down my spine.
‘There is no baby, and my –’ Her eyes were tearful.
A splinter of shame split my heart in two.

---

Why run away to Gretna Green?

Infatuation

 

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Infatuation

The draft wafted a fragrance of jasmine across the counter: I looked up.
‘Carmen!’
‘Hello Joe, can I have one for the matinee?’ She fumbled in her handbag. ‘Usual seat, please.’
‘One? What’s happened to John?’
‘Please, I am in a hurry.’ She passed over the ten-dollar bill and grabbed the ticket. A silver ring rolled from her purse and fell behind the counter.
‘I’ll get that.’ I held it up as she walked away. ‘Carmen, your ring.’
‘Keep it, throw it. I don’t care.’
She slammed the door as she rushed out.
Yes! Tomorrow, I’ll ask her to dinner.

 

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This week I prepared a basic book trailer for my novel MISSING. It is on my author page, if you would like to watch it..

Author Page- James McEwan