Happy Friday, my dear, patient Readers! It’s a hot one here in Columbus.
I’m trying again to get back in the habit of Friday Fictioneers, the writing prompt hosted weekly by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. She challenges us to write a story in 100 words, and bloggers all over the world give it a shot. Here’s mine. Enjoy!
When I was six, there were monsters in Grandma’s cellar.
When I was ten, there was sweet strawberry jam. My sister and I ate a whole jar with a loaf of Grandma’s homemade bread, and Mama whipped us for it later.
When I was sixteen, I kissed Abe Wyatt in the cellar. It was my first kiss. Two weeks later, I cried in the cellar when he ended it.
Grandma’s cellar was special, a place for memories. Now I sit here silently remembering, because Grandma is gone and it feels like this cellar is all I’ve got left of her.
Happy Friday, Readers! And Happy May! I thought now was as good a time as any to resume some Friday Fictioneers. Many thanks (as always) to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our FF host, and to Karen Rawson, who submitted this week’s photo. Enjoy! (Even if it is a sad story.)
When Winter Comes
“Do you remember the first summer we came here?”
He looked encouragingly at his wife, the wind curling escaped wisps of her gray hair around her face. Wrinkles lined her eyes from years of smiling and laughing. His own wrinkles crinkled as he smiled at the woods before them. His wife was silent.
“We walked barefoot all the way down the creek,” he said. He squeezed his wife’s hand. “Do you remember?”
She looked at him. Her smile was bright, but her eyes held no light of remembrance. “I like you,” she said.
He helped her carefully onto the dock, holding her waist to steady her as she stepped out of the canoe. The look on her face was like a storm cloud, dark and ready to burst. The corners of his mouth twitched.
She took a few steps and deliberately wrung out her shirt and hair, not saying a word. He took that opportunity to appreciate the glimpse of her bare stomach and the way her clothes clung to all her curves.
“Well, you did say you would probably tip us over.”
She glared and stomped her foot. “You pushed me in!”
Hello Readers! I’m back again. Sorry for my absence! I hope no one has been wasting away waiting for an update.
I’ve decided to return to writing Friday Fictioneers as individual little stories (keep an eye out for a new story soon!). But for those of you still interested in Nick and Emmeline’s story, I will try to keep up with it with its own little posts here and there. To prove it, here is a little update after our last adventure with the estranged couple, which can be read here.
Constantine is really shaking up Emmeline’s world, it seems.
The Web We Weave
Emmeline’s silent shock and look of fear vanished the instant the policeman turned away to keep other bystanders from advancing too close. Nick winced at the sound of breaking glass behind them as one of the windows in the apartment building burst and half a dozen firemen rushed forward, yelling as they attacked the flames. But Emmeline didn’t even turn around.
Nick studied her, tension radiating from every angle and in every line of her face. She was frowning and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He wanted to say something, but despite the multitude of questions that had plagued him since her declaration – “I’m a spy, Nicholas” – he could find nothing to say. Instead he just stood there on the sidewalk, watching her think.
At last she seemed to come to a decision. She released her bottom lip and her whole face relaxed into an emotionless calm. It was a look unlike any other he had seen on her lovely face, and it terrified him. “Em?” he said at last, still having nothing else to say.
She turned her cool gaze onto him. “I’ve been compromised,” she said in a tone of voice that matched her expressionless face. This terrified him even more. He didn’t know this cold, detached woman. This woman, he realized, he could easily believe to be a spy. “I need to return to my apartment,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil.
“But Constantine already found you there!” said Nick with alarm. He had not forgotten her injury either, and anxiously looked to the place where he knew she was still heavily bandaged. “And you’re still hurt!”
Proving his point, a grimace of pain broke through her calm face. She quickly masked it again, but there was no hiding it from Nick. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Constantine proved his point. He can get to me. He’s isolated me. Now I just have to find out what he wants.”
“Well you’re not going alone,” Nick said firmly.
Emmeline looked at him in surprise, and for a brief moment he imagined her eyes softened when looking at him. He stepped up next to her and decidedly linked her arm through his. She leaned on him gratefully, and they set off back down the sidewalk at a much slower pace than they had come, looking for all the world like any other couple out for a walk.
They said nothing the entire way back to her apartment building. A brief wave of the hand was all they spared when Mary Ann loudly hallooed them from across the lobby before stepping into the elevator. Inside, ritzy jazz music playing over the speakers was jarring in Nick’s ears, but Emmeline appeared not to notice it. She stepped instantly forward the moment the doors opened onto her floor and made for her door.
Nick hastily moved up beside her to help her inside, but she entered before he could do anything.
The flowers were gone.
Nick’s eyes widened upon seeing the spotless apartment, not a single trace of the dozens of bouquets that had filled it earlier, not even a faint smell in the air. He glanced at Emmeline, who showed not the slightest surprise at the missing flowers. She grimaced again and limped forward towards the table. Instantly Nick was there to pull out a chair.
“For God’s sake, Em, sit down and let me help you.” He helped her gently into the seat.
“Don’t swear,” Emmeline scolded, suddenly sounding like her old self. It was such a welcome change that Nick smiled.
“I’m sorry, Emmeline.”
Suddenly recollecting the prescription he had picked up earlier, he pulled the crumpled bag out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, breaking the seal and twisting off the cap. “Take some for your pain. And don’t tell me it’s not bad, because I can see that it is. I’ll get some water.”
Emmeline said nothing. Obediently she swallowed the two pills, gulped down with a glass of water.
Constantine’s messages were still on the table. With a grim air, she leaned over and picked them up and immediately noticed a new one tucked into the middle of the pile.
Nick was hovering anxiously at her elbow. There would be no way to read it without him seeing. “Nicholas?” she said.
He was instantly attentive.”Yes?”
“Could you…” she trailed off for a moment, unsure what request to make. “Could you go into my room and get my tan sweater? I’ve got a chill. All this excitement hasn’t been good for me, I think.” She blushed, as though she were embarrassed to send him into her bedroom. Nick said nothing, just moved towards the hall to her room. Inside, Emmeline cringed at the blatant lie and wondered at his quiet compliance – the day had been nothing but a whirlwind of strange events and her behavior, she knew, had been completely out of character.
The moment he disappeared in to her bedroom, Emmeline pulled out the new message. It was in a pale blue envelope. Without hesitating, she broke the seal and pulled out the card inside. It was a thick heavy paper. Her heart leapt to her throat despite her efforts to remain calm.
The only thing written on the card was an address, and below that the words, “When you’re ready, my dear.”
Happy Friday, Readers! Sorry to leave you hanging with my last story (Emmeline is a spy? Who knew?) but we’re making a jump back in time this week with Friday Fictioneers. We’re visiting a scene from Emmeline’s past. But don’t worry, I’ll return to the present soon. Enjoy!
Happy Friday, Readers! We’ve made it through another week! Now it’s time for Friday Fictioneers (which again, I am so sorry for skipping last week). Back to Nick and Emmeline’s story. I am sorry (not sorry) to say the cliffhangers are just going to keep on coming. Special thanks to Rochelle for providing the prompt, and to J Hardy Carroll for this week’s photo. Enjoy!
P.S. For those of you who celebrate it, Happy Michaelmas!
Price, Emmeline Price
He’s a what?”
Nick stared at Emmeline, mouth open. She squeezed his hand again. “Stay calm, dear. Whatever I tell you, just react as if we were having a normal conversation over breakfast.”
He took a large sip of his coffee and scaled his tongue. Wincing, he said in lower tones, “How the hell did you get mixed up with an Armenian weapons dealer?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
“Then I guess I’ll start at the beginning.” She gazed at their entwined hands, but didn’t say more.
Hello my dear, sweet, and patient Readers! I apologize for not posting anything for a terrible long stretch of weeks, especially after leaving you with that last cliffhanger (Who is Constantine?! What’s up with all those flowers? What is going on in Emmeline’s life and why is it suddenly so dangerous? Will Nick stick around?) but life has been crazy and busy and brilliant, and all my writing time had to be momentarily pushed to the side. But hopefully now I will get back into a regular posting schedule, even though I am sure life will not stop being busy and crazy.
First, some news! I am engaged! (that’s the brilliant part). I am overwhelmingly happy and so excited to start this new part of my life with my fiancé, Aaron!
And with that happy news imparted, let us continue on to Friday Fictioneers (at long last). Thank you very much to Rochelle for faithfully providing us bloggers with a prompt week after week all year long, and this week thank you to Kelvin M. Knight for providing the photo!
Do You Like Bagels?
Emmeline immediately spun around and winced, clutching her side as she hobbled away from her apartment.
“Woah! Where are you going?” Nick let the door close and ran after her, reaching out to steady her. “Em, slow down. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
She stopped. “Do you like bagels?” she said a bit wildly. “I like bagels. I’m hungry. Let’s go to breakfast.”
Nick looked bewildered. “Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he insisted. “Em, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Constantine,” she said, a quaver in her voice. “He’s found me, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to kill me.”