This piece furthers a story I wrote last week. You can read about it here.
Charlotte moved up the staircase towards the sound of music. Her attorney thought the talk of ghosts was nonsense, but it didn't take a medium to feel the energy in the old place. She sat down on the top step, closed her eyes, and focused. The saxophone music grew clearer and was joined by a bass, piano, and drums. The smells of mildew and decay were replaced with smells of lilies, gin, and cigarette smoke. Charlotte could feel the past becoming present.
She turned at the sound of footsteps and saw a bride in white satin walking toward her. Her face was flushed with anger.
“Clara wait!” called a man in a dinner jacket.
“How could you? It's our wedding day. You couldn't even be faithful for the first day.”
“It isn't what you think Sweetheart. I swear.”
“I know what I saw Freddie. You kissed her.”
“She's an old friend.”
“It was more than I friendly kiss Freddie. There's lipstick on your face and it isn't my shade.”
She turned to go and he grabbed her arm.
“Clara I love you.”
“Let me go Freddie. This was a mistake. I should have listened to Daddy.”
“You don't mean that,” he said, still holding on to her arm.
“Freddie you kissed another woman on our wedding night. Now let me go!”
Clara pulled her arm out of his grip and lost her balance. She teetered on the edge of the top step and Freddie tried to catch her. Together they tumbled down the marble staircase. At the bottom, their necks were bent at the same unnatural angle. The angry color gone from her face.
Charlotte sensed another presence. At the top of the stairs stood a woman Charlotte had only seen in aging photographs. The owner of the hotel, Charlotte's great, great, aunt surveyed the grisly scene, heartbreak etched on her face.
I'm linking up with the Trifecta Challenge. Our task is to write a piece 33-333 words long inspired by the third definition of the word color.
3: complexion tint:
3: complexion tint: