Tuesday, October 02, 2007

A bright harvest moon beamed down over the cornfield. Bloody shadows flickered over the corn sheathes that stood like scary sentinels, leaving ragged shadows that moved nervously in the windy night.

But all was bright and happy in the church hall by the road where the Harvest Dance was being held. The musicians tirelessly worked their banjos, fiddles and dulcimers. Bright voices sang loudly dispelling the fall chill. Pretty Bessie’s bright blond hair flew and whipped around her shoulders as she danced around the floor. She swayed and changed from partner to partner, each hoping for a fond glance from her bright blue eyes.

But Bessie had eyes for no one and laughed in delight at the music. She had no thought but the freedom of her movement. So she didn’t notice the man in the corner watching her hungrily. Watching her with the want of a starving man.

The dance was soon over and Bessie bent over where she stood and breathed heavily. Then she stood and her sparkling laughter boomed out breathless into the hall.

The man watched and waited.

Other girls were there, but none so lovely as Bessie. Her dress was a exquisite example of her needlework, which won many a prize at the local fair. Her quilts were prized for their workmanship and many wondered how at such a tender age she had mastered skills that only the grannies seemed to excel in.

The other girls stood in a group at the edge of the dance floor while the musician took a break. Some sipped glasses of cider and they whispered behind their hands and cut their eyes at Bessie.

“Who does she think she is?”

“No shame, that’s what she’s got. No shame!”

“ I heard she led on Jenny’s beau and met him out by the milk house!”

“I heard she drank likker after church last Sunday with Billy!”

“ I heard she kissed Dottie’s fella and he didn’t even want her to!”

Tiny bright Bessie walked over to the girls, laughing.

“Lawd!” she cried, “That sure was fun, weren't it!”

All of the girls looked at Bessie like they smelled something bad and turned their backs on her, pretending to talk about something else.

Bessie’s beautiful face frowned briefly at the snub, then she went to get some cider.

It was too lovely a night to waste on the likes of this lot.

And the man's eyes followed every move she made.

Stir with a Knife ~ Part Two

4 Comments:

  1. Elvis Drinkmo said...
    Excellent work, Rosie!
    SusieQ said...
    Another story to follow? Goodie.
    Chris said...
    Where did you get your inspiration from in this case?
    Hobo Stripper said...
    Double suspense? No fair.

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