This October's Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by River at Drifting Through Life over here. This week's prompts are donkey, battleground, spatula, outside, bridge, stars, rescue, scorching and this image:
I had manged to use all the words although
battleground might perhaps not quite fit here. Not sure why I wrote this story but I have been reading murder mysteries.
Fiction: Deaths and Desserts
Mrs. Avalon Bridge's dessert party was one of the neighborhood's favorites every year on Halloween but only a chosen few were invited. Pia Brown, who lived next door to Mrs. Bridge, was delighted to receive her invitation this year but she had to take along her elderly father-in-law, Bob. Most people hated Bob. He was a loud, obnoxious fellow with a bad temper and was always rising a fuss about some small thing. At 87, he was obese and had a rather unhealthy obsession with sweets. His doctors told him to stay away from desserts or else prepare for a heart attack but he refused to listen. He said he was too old to follow rules. There was a rumor that Pia's husband, Bob the second, had died to get away from his father. Pia, on the other hand, was not so lucky. Bob the second, rather stupidly or perhaps cunningly, placed in his will that Pia must take care of his father until his death or else she will not get the money he had left her.
On the night of the party, a light rain was falling. Pia and Bob, carrying umbrellas, walked over to Mrs. Bridge's house. Pia politely smiled and gave a quiet greeting while Bob grunted a hello. Mrs. Bridge, dressed in a long black gown with kimono sleeves and her long, black hair divided in the middle, gave them a kind welcome. No one was certain of her age but she might be in her late thirties. She gathered their outerwears and umbrellas and threw them in the closet.
Inside, the 15 guests were already seated at the large dinning table. Every space was decorated with orange, red and black decors shaped like skulls, witches and pumpkins along with a gray stuffed donkey as the center piece on the table. Pia thought that was strange but then again, Mrs. Bridge was strange. Some had speculated Mr. Bridge might had been murdered by Mrs. Bridge but Mrs. Bridge acted as if Mr. Bridge never existed. All the photographs in her house were of her and no one else.
Mrs. Bridge stood at the head of the table. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted you all came tonight. Dessert as you all know, came from the French word—"
Bob interrupted, "Get on with it, lady. No one's here to hear you babble."
Mrs. Bridge pursed her lips and then smiled. "Yes, of course, Mr. Brown. We might as well start right away. Slay, please serve the first dish."
