Jillian Chantal

This week’s word for Tuesday Tales is rancid. I love it. It was fun to find a way to fit in in. Hope you like it, too.

Be sure to read the other tales here. 

He set the candelabra down in the nearest surface. “I’m done. You wear me out.” He stalked out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, an impossible wind blew into the area. It swirled and danced about the room, sending papers flying about and knocking some of the knick-knacks off the side tables and mantelpiece. A couple of Dresden-like shepherdesses shattered on the hearth.

Stella glanced around. There was no open window that would’ve let in the wind.

Panicked, she tried to run after Max, but another wind–this one smelling rancid and revolting–came out of the fireplace and made itself into a small cyclone. It beat her to the door and slammed it in her face.

She let out a squeal as the door hit the jamb and made even more breakable items fall to the floor. Some broke, some didn’t.

Running to the door, Stella pulled on the handle as the wind continued to swirl around her. She kicked at the bottom of the door, desperate to escape.

A banging from the other side stopped her as well as the wind. “What are you doing in there? Tell me you’re not destroying the place.” Max’s voice.

Stella wanted to smack him. He was so damn logical all the time. Did he really think, she, as a realtor, who was trusted to have free access to her clients’ homes, would trash them because she was mad at some jerk who totally thought of her as a liar? What an arrogant twit he was.

“I’m not tearing up anything. There’s a demon in here. Open the door and let me out.”

Max turned the knob. It jiggled but didn’t open. “Are you holding it shut? I don’t have time for games, Stella. I’m finding those keys and you’re on your own as soon as I lay my hands on them.”

She slumped to the floor. He was really going to leave her there. She had no doubt about that.

Realizing her bag with her supplies from her grandmother were in this room, she crawled over to them. When she was in the corner with her back to the wall. She made a salt barrier around herself. Now she was ready for whatever might come. Well, at least she hoped so.

The word of the week for Tuesday Tales is colorful. We’re a group of authors who write to the same word each week. Different genres, same word. My tale is still the paranormal and we pick up right where we left off last week.

Check out the other tales here.

“There you go again being so very clever. Perhaps you do need some Valium. Do you ever listen and perhaps learn from others? Maybe there are things in this world that your science can’t understand.” Stella snapped her fingers. “If I knew anyone who dealt in psychedelic drugs, maybe I could get you some LSD. A colorful little trip could do you a world of good.”

“I guess I should be thanking God you don’t know anyone like that.” He tapped his mug of cold instant coffee. “I guess you’d be sneaking me a little treat in there.”

“You know it.” She laughed. “I’d pay a lot of money to see you on an acid trip.”

Not sure if she was really joking, Max decided to treat her comment as if she were. Hopefully it would take her mind off the imaginary person and evil birds she thought chased her here. “I imagine that would be a thrill for you since you think I’m so straight-laced.” He smiled. “Confession time?”

She arched her eyebrows. “What could you have to confess to? I see you as a good little boy who never stepped one foot out of line your whole life. Probably never even skipped class.”

“While it’s true I never did that, I did take part in an experiment in medical school where several of us smoked pot to see what effect it had on people. You know, so we’d know ourselves how it affects heart rates and other vitals.”

Stella roared with laughter. Her eyes lit up and her expression was so full of joy, it took Max’s breath away.

“What?” He asked. “What’s so funny?”

It took her a few moments to catch her breath. She was laughing so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks.
When she’d gained control of herself and wiped her eyes, she said, “Only you would think an experiment with drugs in a controlled environment would be something to confess. Like it was a sin or something.” She leaned forward and peered in his eyes. “Tell me, Dr. Edison, is that all you got? You big drug sins boil down to one time with the supervision of your professor.”

Stella had a point. He was an idiot. Thinking he’d impress her with the fact he’d used drugs, he’d failed to see the story was ludicrous.

He shrugged. “You’re right. That’s the extent of my sins.”

She patted his shoulder. “Bless you my son. If I was a priest, I’d say you didn’t need to come into the confession booth for that.”

“Thanks for the absolution.” He grinned.

This week’s word for the Tuesday Tales authors is pick.  I am still working on my paranormal tale.

Check out the other tales here. 

Peering down at it, he realized it was a jar of instant coffee. He opened the lid. It smelled fresh. Turning on the hot water tap, he waited a few moments, but it didn’t get warm. The dead woman’s family must’ve turned off the water heater. If it was still on, even with the power out, it would still have some in the tank. Max had hoped to bring Stella some coffee to maybe help relax her. He thought the caffeine wouldn’t be too bad and he knew a lot of people who used the drink to settle their nerves.

Shrugging, he opened the closest cabinet and located a couple of mugs. The crystals might not dissolve, but perhaps she could use the drink anyway.

After making two cups, he held them in one hand by their handles and made his way to the candelabra.

The liquid sloshed over the sides a bit, but he made it back to Stella with most of it still in the mugs. He set them on the table and once he had the candelabra steadied, he pulled the matchbook from his pocket.

“What took you so long? I was thinking that man who followed me here had finally made his way inside and got you.” Stella stood and shook off the blanket. “You knew I was worried yet you didn’t come back fast.”

“I thought I’d make us some instant coffee.” Max nodded to the cups on the table. “Take the one on the left. There was no hot water, but I think I was able to get the crystals stirred in better in that one.”

“Oh no thank you. I’ll take the one on the right.” She stepped over to the table.

“Suit yourself. Pick whichever one makes you happy.”

“Are you sure? Do I really need to have the one on the left?”

Puzzled, he looked at her. “What are you going on about?”

“You don’t think you can fool me, do you? I know you put a tranquilizer in that mug. You think I’m irrational and want to subdue me, but I’m not crazy. I know I saw what I saw.” Stella reached out for the cup on the right then, at the last second, grabbed the one on the left instead. She tipped it toward her lips.

Before she could drink it, Max said, “If you think I drugged the left one—which I didn’t, by the way—why pick it to drink from?”

“Because you think you’re clever and I think you knew I’d catch on and would grab the right one and you’d succeed in getting the Valium in me.”

“Lady, you have some thought processes there.” He laughed. “Quite frankly, if I hadn’t lost the keys to open the deadbolt to get out of this house, I’d go out to my car, grab my medical bag and take all the Xanax I have myself. I could use the rest.”

This week’s Tuesday Tales week is a picture prompt. I’ve not been writing and I can’t even explain all the reasons, but suffice it to say, life has been a zoo. So I am back in my paranormal tale. The hero and heroine are in a house during a storm with no power.

Be sure to check out the other tales here– see what their stories are and what photo they used.

“There’s a five prong candelabra in the room next door. I’ll get it.”

“I hope you have matches. I had some but I’m soaked through so I’m sure they’re ruined.”

Max pulled the blanket he’d found in the hall closet closer to her as he stood. “Will you be all right here for a few minutes? I’ll get the candelabra after I head to the kitchen to scrounge in the drawers for some dry matches.”

“I don’t want to be left alone long. I’m still creeped out by my ordeal getting here.”  A shudder seemed to slide all the way down Stella’s spine as her whole body convulsed.

Unsure if it was fear or the wetness of her garments, he ducked his head before saying, “I don’t want this to come out the wrong way—”

“What? Just say it. You’ve already said you think I’m crazy. Why hold back now?”

Her expression was hard to read. Was she mad, resigned or just weary?

He took a deep breath. “You’re shivering so hard, it may be a good idea to take off your wet clothes while I’m gone.”

“You want me to take off my clothes?”

The shock on her face made Max want to laugh but he knew with a certainty he’d never felt before that laughter would damage their tenuous relationship beyond repair.

Running his hand through his hair, he forced his lips not to smile. “I’m concerned with your health. Sitting in wet clothes isn’t good for you.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Edison?” The snarl on her face let him know exactly how she felt. Not resigned or tired. Angry. Extremely angry.

Max held his hands up. “Suit yourself.”

He turned on his heel and left the room. Let her have some time to cool off… or maybe freak out again.

This week, the authors of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt alone. I am still working on the paranormal book. The heroine is on the phone with her mother talking about the hero. By the way, all the characters in this story have Beatles related names.

Check out the other tales here.

“You stay away from over there, missy. You got the gift like your grandma did. You don’t wanna be attracting no spirit to follow you home and make trouble in your life.” Her mother coughed. “You hearing me, Stella girl? No nonsense, ya hear?”

“Settle down, mamma. I’m not planning to go back. I was wondering how I could help the man who wants to buy the place. He’s a nonbeliever and I’m worried he’s going to get himself hurt.”

“You need to steer clear. Even setting up a ritual to pray for his protection could drag you down.”

Stella sighed. She should’ve known her mother would flip, but she had some of her grandmother’s candles and other items used in ritual that might be of use in casting a protective net around Max Edison. She’d learned the work from her grandmother even though her mother feared it.

“If you’re asking for Grandmother’s box, no. You can’t have it. You need to forget that idea right now.”

When her mother got that tone of voice, Stella knew the pope himself could ask her for the box and she’d say no. Not that the pope believed in Voodoo. At least she didn’t think he did.

Stifling the snort that picture that thought brought to mind and disappointed in the call, Stella sighed. “Go watch your show, Mom.”

“Promise me you’ll leave this alone.”

Knowing she couldn’t do that, Stella made a noncommittal noise and said, “I’ll see you all at Sunday dinner.”

“Promise me.”

Stella glanced up at the kitschy black cat wall clock with the moving eyes and tail. Saved by the time. “You’re missing the first puzzle on Wheel. I’ll let you go.”

“This isn’t over, child.”