Our friend Fandango and I share a fascination with
noir crime and detective stories. He recently wrote
a story called “Five Years Later”; it was great and
I was hooked. If you haven’t read his story, click the
link above. I noticed his MC and a character I have
previously written about share the same last name.
My imagination kicked in and I asked Fan if he’d
mind if I wrote a story that intertwined with his;
he said to go for it. Here it is …. longer than my usual
so make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the read.
Tag: Attraction
I’m Too Sexy
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing
Prompt #408 using the word ‘heart’.
In 11 words exactly, this is my flash.
Lamb Stew
Looking through my early stories, I found one from 2017,
my first year on WordPress, with only 4 likes and no comments;
I thought I’d give it another shot. Any similarity between the MC
and yours truly is very much intended. I hope you enjoy Lamb Stew.
Feeling Lucky
Written for Sammi’s Weekly Writing Prompt #388
in exactly 21 words and incorporating the word “dark”
and for Sue W & Gerry C’s Weekly Prompts Colour
Challenge using the word “grey”. Here is my flash.
A Great Working Relationship
Written for The New, Unofficial, On-Line Writer’s Guild.
This week the three prompts from Aooga at OLWG #388 are
(1) tea coloured eyes, (2) change the words of this poem,
and (3) New Mexico schmerz. We can use them as is,
as an inspiration or not at all. This is my story.
The Escort
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less, using the
photo prompt as inspiration. This is my 250-word story.
Fiona was late for Mass. Seeing an unfamiliar man leaning against the wall outside Sully’s Bar, she quickened her pace. As she passed she heard him chuckle and say “What’s yer hurry, Irish?” She walked even faster, opening the side door to St. Brigid’s.
An hour later Fiona exited the church and noticed the same man from the bar standing at the corner. Had he been waiting for her all this time? Wary, she stepped backwards, teetering on the curb and losing her shoe in the process.
Suddenly the man was by her side. She was taken aback as he reached around her waist and stopped her fall.
“Name’s Harvey Rubin and yer one fine lookin’ dish. Ya need somebody like me to drive ya home, Irish. It can be dangerous for a good Catholic girl like yerself walkin’ alone in this neck o’ the woods.”
“Keep your thoughts …. and hands …. to yourself, buster!” Fiona snapped. “Besides, how do you know I’m a good Catholic girl?”
“Well, I ain’t no Albert Einstein but I seen ya practically racin’ to St. Brigid’s like yer panties was on fire and I’m guessin‘ ya ain’t no altar boy – not with them gorgeous gams.” Harvey replied in an unhurried way.
Glancing down, he smiled at her missing shoe; his tough “Bogie” persona became surprisingly charming. Fiona found it difficult to resist this rough-hewn stranger and she shocked herself by allowing him to escort her home.
She knew her parents would be livid.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Bogie & Bacall: Key Largo” by Bertie Higgins
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Pull
Linda G. Hill has challenged us with another prompt for
JusJoJan using the word “captivating”.
Here is my submission – a Dectina Refrain.
This refrain is written as follows:
1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables
3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone line.
Eyes
of green
like the sea
captivating
and pulling me in
with every crashing wave.
Those eyes frighten and thrill me.
Should I run to them or from them?
The heady allure outweighs the fear.
Eyes of green like the sea captivating.
NAR©2024
This is Kate Wolf with “Green Eyes
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
WINDOW SHOPPING
Waves of glorious flaxen hair rippled over her shoulders, swaying and bouncing with every high-heeled, leggy stride she took.
Never one to shy away from attention, especially that of the male population, she confidently waltzed down Fifth Avenue toward Saks, stunning in red Jimmy Choo thigh-high boots, a snow-white fur coat, and a single strand of pearls.
Admiring looks didn’t intimidate her; they titillated her, challenged her to be more daring and quite a bit risqué. It was all a game and she loved to play.
As she strolled the avenue, stopping to look at the exceptional Christmas displays in the store windows, she noticed the reflection of a man leaning drowsily against a parked car. Accustomed to men looking her way, she thought nothing of it at first but found herself glancing at his image more often than usual. Sliding her Ray Bans a little down her nose, she gave this mystery man’s reflection a furtive peek. Intriguing.
Repositioning her glasses, she continued window shopping, collecting all the longing glances cast her way and storing them in her bag like so many colorful Christmas lights. Every so often she’d linger at a quaint little shop or gallery, acutely aware of her mystery man shadowing her along the way. Now this was starting to get interesting. Slowly she removed her shades and gave his reflection a long look.
Why not? Slipping her sunglasses on, she turned around to a vision that caught her breath …. from head to toe the epitome of elegance and charm. Raven hair, tanned skin, black cashmere coat draped over his arm, charcoal grey pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, black and silver Art Deco tie and Italian shoes …. not black but the exact color of his suit. Nice touch; the paragon of haute couture.
She smiled. He smiled. She turned slowly, giving him ample time to fall into place beside her.
She continued walking, no longer followed by a mysterious shadow but side-by-side with an intriguing companion. Together they would take the road wherever it led them.
NAR © 2023
This is “All I Want For Christmas” by Robyn Adele Anderson, featuring Von Smith
Join me today for a brand new
Christmas edition of
Name That Tune.
Let’s see who gets it right!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
HONEYSUCKLE AND PROVOLONE
The minute she walked into my deli on Arthur Avenue, I was blown away. She knocked my socks off. Even through the crack in the storage room door I was dazzled by this profusion of red hair the color of a bright autumn day, creamy skin with a splash of freckles and captivating emerald eyes. I’ve got a weakness for gingers and I fell head over heels.
I’m Bruno Deluca – or Mr. Monotone compared to the stunning Monarch butterfly that just gaily flew into my market. I have the quintessential Italian look – walnut brown hair, coffee brown eyes and a perpetual deep tan. But I have a sparkling smile and dimples “to die for”, as my Aunt Carmella always says.
This amber goddess stood in front of the meat and cheese display, a bewildered look on her face. Here’s my big chance. I dashed from the back room and positioned myself directly in her line of vision. “Welcome to Deluca’s Salumeria. May I help you with something, miss?” [Smooth, right? Not to mention original!]
She looked up and I flashed her my trademark smile. And she smiled back, blushing winsomely. My knees grew weak when she spoke, her lilting Irish brogue a sweet surprise.
“Everything looks so exotic and delicious! I wouldn’t know what to order, even if could pronounce the names!” And when she laughed I swear I saw musical notes wafting through the air.
“No problem” I replied as I swiftly came around to her side, naming and describing all the meats and cheeses.
She smelled like honeysuckle. I smelled like provolone.
She still couldn’t make up her mind so I tried something radical. “How about I give you a few samples – on the house – if you promise to come back and buy something, even if it’s one slice of salami?”
She hesitated for a second, then laughingly said “You have a deal, Mr…..”
“Deluca. Bruno Deluca. And you are…..?”
She extended a delicate porcelain hand. “Rowan McCourt. Pleased to meet you, Bruno.”
“Rowan, eh? That’s a lovely name. What does it mean?”
Tentatively toying with her hair she said “Little Red-haired One. And what does Bruno mean?”
I shrugged and matter-of-factly stated “Brown” and we both burst out laughing!
I packed up a nice selection of sliced meat and cheese and some of my best Italian bread. “Here ya go, Rowan, and don’t forget…..”
“Oh, no Bruno! This is too much! I couldn’t possibly…..!”
“Go! Enjoy! It’s always good to have leftovers. See you soon!”
The next day I kept glancing at the door; I couldn’t get Rowan out of my head and I was disappointed when she didn’t return. True to her word, though, she was back the following morning.
“Bruno, everything was delicious!” she declared excitedly. “Now what shall I buy?”
She browsed for a minute. “That looks incredible! What is it?”
“That’s lasagna – sheets of wide pasta layered with ricotta, mozzarella, grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, sauteèd chopped beef and sausage in my homemade tomato sauce. It’s already cooked; just heat and enjoy. Would you like to try it?”
“I would indeed! You make it all sound so delicious, Bruno. My mouth is watering!”
“You won’t regret your decision, Rowan. Lasagna is one of our specialties. How much would you like?”
“Enough for a few portions, please” Rowan replied. Her smile was radiant.
“Ah, leftovers. You remembered!” I said, smiling back.
“Actually, Bruno, I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight.”
It took me a second to remember to breath. “I’d love to” I whispered while inside I was shouting “YES! I’d love to!”
“Wonderful! Here’s my address. See you at 7:00. And Bruno, can you bring a bottle of wine and some of your fabulous bread?” Rowan asked.
I stared into her eyes and nodded mutely.
“Bruno, I’m very happy you’ll be joining me tonight.” Taking her bag, Rowan floated out the door. The slightest trace of honeysuckle tickled my nose.
NAR ©2023
Happy Birthday to my guy, my special Mr. Bill 🧡
Please join me today
In The Groove
as we conclude
Motown Memories.
What could be next?
https://rhythmsection.blog/
INEFFABLE
Piano music drifted up to her as she leisurely strolled the aisles of the exclusive Manhattan department store – not the unremarkable, annoying background Muzak one usually hears in waiting rooms and elevators. No, this was definitely different.
Being a devotee of the piano, she was convinced no one else in the world could possibly love its sound more than she. Enchanted, she felt compelled to find the source of the music.
As she approached the escalator, the volume increased minutely. Gliding down, gently floating closer and closer, she realized “this is LIVE music”.
Arriving at the store’s café level, she stood still, tilting her head slightly in the direction of the beckoning music. Sensing an invisible hand on the small of her back, she swayed slightly as the unmistakable melody of “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” trickled above the polite chatter of the ladies who lunch.
“Someone is definitely playing the piano” she thought, quickly adding “Oh, please, don’t let it be one of those self-playing digital pianos.”
Now the music was clearly audible and she followed the winding hallway from the escalator into the center of the café area. Suddenly standing before her in all its glory was a glimmering ebony Steinway baby grand. The lid was open, revealing the hammers and strings, but concealing the pianist .. if there even was one.
As if on cue, she heard a silky rich voice as smooth as Maker’s Mark Bourbon and she imagined Harry Connick or Frank Sinatra. “She’s a fool and don’t I know it but a fool can have her charm.” As she made her way around the curves of the Steinway, the illusive piano man came into view. She kept her eyes downcast, afraid to look, and just listened as this sorcerer cast his spell on her.
Slowly she raised her head to surreptitiously glance at the singer. He wasn’t the handsome, debonair Harry or Frank; actually, he looked more like Billy Joel but when he caught her eye everything fell away and all that mattered was the here and now. She approached him tentatively, her hand gliding along the piano, eyes still locked with his.
Ruefully she thought to herself “Why do I always fall in love with musicians? I would follow this man anywhere.” The feelings deep within her heart, her body, her soul were ineffable; why they happen and where they come from she could not say. She sat beside him on the piano bench, their legs touching.
She laid her head on his shoulder as natural as a helpless infant. “Please don’t ever stop playing for me.”
NAR © 2023
Originally published 2018
The Elephant's Trunk 