This month's
Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by
Charlotte and hosted at
River's blog here. This week's prompts are cold, door, fire engine, tree, jacket, sign and/or candle, cup, egg, roses, window, hazy. Optional additional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month
Jade Green.
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Fiction: A strawberry moon, a fire and a catThe fire engine took almost two hours to arrive but Jane Strong didn't fret as she stood outside in the cold. Staying a few feet away, she started to shout the door was unlocked but too late. The firefighters had smashed her front door off its hinges and the three men trampled on it on their way inside with the hose.
The night air was cool. Jane tucked at the sweater she had hasty put on. It had been a cool June. Most of the townspeople thought Jane had done something to the weather. They believed she was an enchantress. Perhaps it was her use of candles or dressing in black or perhaps owning a black cat. If the wiring in her house didn't often short out, she wouldn't use candles. Dressing in black had been a habit since her teens and why should she change? As for her black cat, she just appeared and made herself at home. Even if none of those reasons existed, the townspeople would find some other reason to believe their own prejudices since they refuse to believe anything she say.
She looked up at the strawberry moon in the sky. Was it a sign? Henry, her husband, believed in signs and he believed almost everything signified bad luck.
Her eyes dropped down to the almost petalless pink roses in front of her house. Henry had planted them when they first moved in last year. People thought Jane made the roses grow with her witchcrafts but all she did was took care of them and the apple tree in her backyard. The townspeople often had trouble growing things and they didn't like that Jane could do what they couldn't.
Someone thrust a paper cup into her hand. There was a boiled egg inside. She glanced up at the middle-age Marvin Hart, the town's newspaper reporter and busybody. "Old Bane said you're welcome to board at his bed and breakfast with a discount," said Hart. Jane wondered why Old Bane would do such a thing when the man was stingy with money.
Hart grinned. "Well, I'll be going now. Good evening, Mrs. Strong." Hart tucked his hands into the pockets of his faded leather jacket, made his way to his beat-up, faded jade green truck and drove off into the darkness. She detested the man. When Henry died eleven months ago, Hart interviewed her and then wrote several articles of how she might had poisoned her husband. The townspeople had believed him and avoided her. The three neighbors on the left and right side of her, moved away. Ever since, only her house was occupied in this far part of town. Even when it came out that a brain aneurysm had caused Henry's sudden demise, people still avoided her. Jane had since decided never to speak to Hart nor in front of him. Sometimes she wondered how Hart kept showing up whenever something bad happened, as if he knew they would happen.
After the firefighters left without speaking to her but had glanced at her as if she was some strange alien, Jane inspected her house. The lower level had broken windows, smashed objects, messes everywhere and almost everything was soaked. She dropped the paper cup with the egg into the trash bin in the kitchen. She refused to accept anything that man gave her. Upstairs, her bedroom was mostly unaffected though the scent of smoke lingered.
"There you are," Jane said, relieved at seeing the black cat lying on her bed but the cat didn't budge. Jane stroked the animal's back and felt no throbbing. The cat wasn't breathing.
About three hours ago, when the cat woke Jane after the fire started, Jane had grabbed the sweater hanging on the chair, ran downstairs, called the fire department and ran outside and forgot the cat. She had told the firefighters to look out for the cat but maybe they didn't care to touch her. Most of the townspeople believed black cats were bad luck.
Her view became hazy and Jane wiped her tears away. "I'm so sorry, Moody." She brushed her hands over the cat's body. The cat had showed up at her front door ten months ago. Jane had fed her scraps and apple slices thinking she would go away but the cat stayed on. After a time, she allowed the cat inside and started feeding her regularly. The name
Moody was stuck in her head and it became the cat's name.
Moody sprung her eyes opened and meowed. Jane cradled her. "Oh, you silly thing, you scared me."
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