Hello again, and welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales. Each week, the authors in this group use a word or picture prompt to add to their on-going story. This week, our word prompt comes from one of five images, and with that is the 300 word limit. It’s short and sweet, and a lot harder to do that you might think! I’m continuing with Same Time Next Year, and here is the picture I chose.
Here’s this week’s offering:
At this time of year, the sun didn’t set until after nine, but tonight, because of the heavy cloud cover, it was darker than usual. The ear-piercing chirp of a cicada followed by several pings from the bug zapper, death cries, broke the silence. Survival of the fittest.
It was the perfect weather for a thunderstorm. The air was perfumed with the sweet, spicy tang of ozone. Ethan had loved storms, the wilder the better, while she’d hidden under the covers until the clamor died down, coming up for air when she had to, sweat soaked and shivering.
Thank goodness for air conditioning. With it running full tilt, she hadn’t realized how warm and muggy it was. Back in the day, cabins relied on noisy, metal fans and open windows to cool them. No one really complained because it was what everyone was used to.
A young couple so wrapped up in one another that she doubted they even saw her, crossed her path, walking arm and arm, like some four-legged, two-headed creature, ignoring the perspiration beading on their brows and trickling down their backs.
As she sauntered along the fieldstone pathway, solar lights popped on here and there. Like a thousand fireflies in flight, twinkle lights shone from the lower branches of the trees. In the past, the only light at night had come from lampposts scattered around the grounds, leaving lots of dark corners for stolen kisses.
Within ten yards of the main building, a chipmunk ran across her path, stopping in front of her to rearrange the shelled peanuts in his mouth, his cheeks puffed out with their treasure.
“Don’t feed the vermin, Twyla,” her mother’s judgmental voice echoed inside her head. “Those things are filthy, disease carrying rodents—nothing but rats wearing uppity fur coats.”
That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.