Face the color of ripe plum and starched shirt plastered to an obese body.
“It’s time for my mint julep”
Rufus voice broke into falsetto cutting the afternoon silence. He should hear Maribelle downstairs rushing to quench his thirst, and faint sounds from the kitchen where Duke and Della were busy preparing his dinner.
He had woken late; Maribelle no longer there. Rufus chuckled; important men should satisfy their needs with staff. Maribelle was as good as Della once was.
“Maribelle” — faint echo responding.
Only the smell of smoke and locked doors told him that even servants have mothers.
So this week we are back to revenge and murder, it has been a while, but this is what my muse whispered to me.
Friday Fictioneers is a blogging community run be Rochelle-Wisoff field, with the simple and challenging task of writing a story to the same picture in 100 words.
February 11, 2015