~ Tuesday Tales ~
Hello all! First, let me welcome you to my blog and thank you for coming by. This is my first Tuesday Tales and I am excited and nervous. I am in the company of some truly amazing authors here!
This week's theme is RED. The color alone invokes so many images and it was hard to choose just one. Finally I opted for the beginning of a current WIP, an erotic paranormal entitled Immortal Ink, that's been sitting on the back burner for much too long.
“Hey, isn’t that the chick on the posters? The one that’s been missing for a coupla months? Had a weird name…Amaranth or something like that.”
“That ain’t her. Can’t be. The woman on the flyer looked like Miss High Society. This one…nah. She's a mess. Looks like a damned mummy or something wrapped in all those bandages like that. I think she's dead."
“No, I think it is her dude. Same weird ass red hair…like blood. And look at her earrings. Each one must be a coupla carats. I noticed them in her picture on the poster and wondered what they were worth.”
“Really? You look at the poster of a missing woman and wonder what her earrings are worth? You’re fucked up dude.”
******Her skin felt as if it were on fire, burning with a searing intensity unlike anything she’d ever experienced; the pain threatening to consume her, drag her back to blissful unconsciousness.
The incessant banter of the two boys kept pulling her back to waking and Amara wanted to scream for them to shut up. The simple act of breathing hurt and the only way to escape the pain was to slip back into the blanket of darkness awaiting her. She struggled to speak.
“Shut…up…” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Shit! She’s like…alive. We should call 911 or something.”
“Fuck that! They’ll think we had something to do with this. We gotta get out of here. Pretend like we didn’t see her. Come on!”
“That’s messed up…the chick needs help man. Look at her. How about we leave and then call…hey, whatta ya doing?”
“What? She’s half-dead anyway. I can pawn these rocks for a few thousand bucks.”
“Get the hell away from her. You’ll leave evidence and shit like on those crime shows. Don’t touch anything man!”
Cold, unfamiliar hands brushed against her temple, moving over her ear. She wanted to scream. Leave me alone! Leave me alone! But words wouldn’t come; only a pathetic moan managed to escape dry, cracked lips.
I'd love to hear what you thought so feel free to leave a comment!