31 Days of Halloween Tales - Pick Your Potion

Love is strange in a little tale entitled:

Pick Your Potion

"Yes, I have a love potion, maybe you'd like to give it a try?"

Lisa looked at the bright pink liquid inside the tiny glass bottle. It couldn't be more than a sip, what could it hurt?

She wanted Leo to fall in love with her and if this was the only way it could happen then it was worth the hefty price the gypsy was asking.

"I'll take it." She looked at the size of the bottle again and asked, "Is one bottle enough?"

The old gypsy cackled sending shivers through the girl's body. "Yes, girl. One bottle is plenty. Ya only needs a sip."

Lisa paid the gypsy and slipped discretely out of the carnival tent.

****

Lisa pulled the scarf tighter around her head, close enough to hide the fresh bruises on her cheek. She slipped into the carnival tent only to find the same old gypsy waiting for her inside. She couldn't believe he was still alive, if he was old ten years ago, he was positively ancient now.

"I need a potion to make someone fall out of love with me. Do you have something like that?"

The gypsy didn't say anything but quietly pulled a small bottle filled with a dark blue liquid out from under the counter and slid it across to her.

"This will make someone stop loving you if that is what you wish. Would you like to give it a try?"

Lisa didn't even look at the price this time. She didn't care, she simply paid the old man what he asked and slipped back out of the tent hoping no one recognized her.

****

"As to Count, One Malice Murder the Jury finds the Defendant,  "Guilty."

Lisa stopped listening after the verdict on the first Count, that was the one that really matter. They could sentence her to death for that. And they might.

As it turned out it hadn't mattered to the Jury that she wasn't aware that there had been a lethal poison in the tiny bottle that she had given to her husband, Leo.  And by then, the gypsy carnival was long gone. Nor had it mattered that he was known on occasion to beat her as that only seemed to give her motive in the first place.

What everyone heard over and over again, the Jury included, was how much Leo had loved her. He never stopped telling his family and his co-workers how much he loved Lisa.

And he always said that he would love her till the day he died.

Friday Freebie....

A sneak peek of a work in progress...This is the first draft...just filling the sandbox...

Declan O'Bran

May 4, 1912

I find myself once more at a beginning. The beginning of this writing...the beginning of a new... life? Or what may pass at this moment for life.

My name is Declan O'Bryan and although I am writing this, I am no longer of the living.

The events and memories are foggy and disorganized to me now. I was a traveler, just passing through Salem on my way home to Boston, stopping at the tavern for a drink to take the chill off my bones and find lodgings for the night. I remember this much at least..this much and the woman.

I arrived in Boston only two days ago. Is that possible? Is it possible that only two days have passed since I first walked the narrow streets of the North End? I can say it has been two days but in reality I no longer have any sense of time or urgency that I am aware of the hour. Except for the day's dawning. Of that, I remain keenly aware. I can sense the approaching sunlight beneath my skin, a hot, slithering bile that crawls its way just below the surface, lightly shimmering the blood within my veins. The weather in early Spring is still chilly enough to require a cloak but the chills that devour me have nothing to do with the temperature this morning.

To say she was beautiful would not do her justice. A long dark mane surrounded her heart shape face, a sharp widow's peak pierced her forehead like an arrow. Ebony eyes melded into her copper complexion, shades of mocha and black swirled together in an exotic blend.

I seemed unable to resist her although I am not one to indulge in pleasures of the flesh casually, yet when she took my hand into hers, I followed her to her room above the tavern without question or second thought.

I felt nearly as if I had simply fallen asleep and was wrapped inside the dizziness and desire of a sensuous dream. I could not move and yet I was able to follow her; I could not speak but yet I groaned outwardly. The overwhelming scent of a million spices filled her room and danced on her skin like sweet honey, making my head reel as it became more difficult for me to breathe with each passing second I was in her presence.

She closed and locked the door behind us and began to undress slowly, whispering to me in a language I could not understand but could only grasp the meaning as she smiled. In a moment she stood naked before me, proud, exquisite, long supple legs, full breasts, taunt ripe belly, her dark hair draped around her narrow waist in a sea of thick black waves.

I had never seen such a exquisite woman, nor never have I tasted such exotic flesh. and when she pulled me to her, I drowned within the agony of her embrace.

I awoke in a strange barn sometime later and she was gone. I was dressed again but could not recall how I had gotten there nor could I remember what had transpired. My body ached with fever and my throat burned with thirst. My stomach clenched as waves of agonizing spasms washed over me, leaving me curled tightly on the dirt floor. I trembled in the chill of the barn yet I could not find the energy to get up to venture to someplace warmer.

I knew I was dying even when I knew nothing else and seemed unable to help my situation.

Ashley Donaghue

July 1, 2013

How do I start this? How do I begin? Dear Diary? To Whom it May Concern?

And what shall I call you? Diary? Journal? My Inner Sanctum? My Subconscious?

I will write because I was told it would help, not because I particularly want to. I do want to feel better however, anything is better than where I am at at the moment.

And where am I exactly? Three months after a very public emotional break down and what the professionals perceived as a suicide attempt. Perceived is the key word here..

I could fail I suppose, return to that dark place that exists inside everyone of us yet no one ever wants to talk about. You know all about that place, don't you? When someone you love and count on is taken from you on an icy road on a cold April morning when all he wanted to do was surprise you with your favorite coffee from Starbucks when you woke up, that dark place is the only place left to go.

I'm strong, stronger than most but this one time I didn't want to be. I wanted silence and to disappear for awhile. I took too many sleeping pills and had too much wine that night but I didn't want to die. They got that part wrong but nobody seemed to care. No one but me.

Flash Fiction Thursday!!!

I have to admit, the song came to mind first before anything else...and then the story developed from there...Enjoy!!

"You would not listen, you did not know how."

The variation on the classic words from Vincent by Don McLean are running through my head as I drive down the interstate. I took some liberties with the lyrics I know, but there is no one to mind, no one who cares.  I don’t blame you, it simply is, and there is no going back now anyway.

Has it been twelve years already? Since we met and married on impulse, driving to Maryland on a cold and dreary Friday in March? It was raining that night I remember, and I was worried about how the pictures would turn out. Silly really, little girl nonsense.

We built a life, we built a home. Our sweetest conversations came not from our lips but from our bodies, we touched when there were no words to say.

The lost of our child built a wall of silence too deafening for our quiet whispers of pain. When I spoke of him, you simply turned your head and pretended not to hear.

Last night we slept in separate beds, in separate rooms, the dying remains of a love disappearing in the gray shadows of ash between us.

Now I drive away on another rainy afternoon in March from an unfamiliar courthouse where a stranger that I hadn’t invited in sat behind a bench and told me we are no longer married and I am no longer a wife.

I wonder what I will be tomorrow.

Happy Valentine's Day Snippet!!!

For all you sexy lovebirds out there...here is a snippet of "Should Have Known"..a little tidbit of Valentine's Day erotic romance..

He grinned and pulled me into his arms. I suddenly realized how much taller he was than me, barefoot, I barely came up to his chest and I stood on tip toes to kiss him. This kiss was different than the others, sweet and gentle as if the urgency had been replaced with something else, something deeper, and something I hadn’t expected.

This gentle giant of a man made me feel like a young girl again.

Hormones? At my age, I know all about them and mine were completely out of control. My knees were wobbly and weak, my heart was pounding like there was a marching band inside my chest and I had trouble remembering who I was.

His kisses were tender, teasing me it seemed, slowly urging me to ask for more. I kissed him back, softly at first but when the heat seared through me like a forest fire, I crushed my mouth onto his, opening my lips slightly so that my tongue could graze his.


The story "Should Have Known" by Emily Keane is available on Amazon...Just in time for Valentine's Day...Enjoy!!

Wednesday Snippet...

I thought I would post a little snippet of a story that I recently wrote...At the moment it lingers on the pages as a short story but it may turn into a novelette in the future.

A heaviness settled over the inn as it does on these evenings when the darkness comes early and lasts an eternity. There was no one else in the tavern spare the four of us and the blazing fire warmed the room so that the traveler's eyelids soon became heavy in the heat. I thought that perhaps the couple would retire to their room once their bellies were full but instead of taking their leave, the young man turned to Clara, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and asked her about the portrait that hung above the heavy oak mantle of the fireplace.

Clara smiled as she always did when asked about the Woman in White. It was a tale she liked to share and a cold winter's night such as this one was perfect for the telling of it. Perfect for a ghost story.