Last month in the Facebook Group, The Charmed Connection, members of Charmed Writers posted some flash fiction short stories in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. Charmed Connection members voted for their favorite stories. The top four stories will be published this
month on A Slice of Orange.
Our last story in this series is by Jaclyn Roche.
Jaclyn lives in the woods of Maine on a Mountain next to a lake and shares her version of utopia with her husband, two sons, two giant fur babies, two tiny feather babies and a few toads! Jaclyn’s short story, “Harvest of Memories” was published in Charmed Writers Presents: Flash Fiction 2019.
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Angela had never been to a Saint Patrick’s Day party and had no idea what to expect having been raised outside of the U.S. She supposed she expected a big grand event rather than the tame one she drove up to. Walking up the sidewalk lined with garden beds, screeching bagpipes drifted out of the opened windows. A squeal of the pipes nearly sent her hands to her ears. No professionals here. Laughter from inside kept tune with the squeaks and shrieks coming her way. Her knees trembled. Angela turned about to head back for her car. The front door to the cottage swung open and the screen door caught the Irish flag before it swung into the house.
“Angie! Welcome!” James’ smile was wide, wider than usual and mossy green eyes brighter than normal. His freckled cheeks tinged with a rosiness he got while drinking or exercising and Angie knew there wasn’t any exercising going on at the moment. He wrapped his long strong arms around her.
“Hey sweetie,” Angie’s feet dangled in the air from his burly bear hug. James smacked her lips with his leaving them wet and tasting of whiskey, “into the good stuff already, I see.” Her feet touched the tile and he grasped her hand dragging her through the one-story home.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my parents. They’re going to love you!” James
spoke fast and his pitch elevated. He skipped off to the kitchen with her in tow.
The pit-pat of her heart now revved up to a fast thudding against her chest. Her breath hitched in her throat as they crossed the threshold into the aromatic room causing Angie’s stomach to growl loudly and uncontrollably. Oh no. Angie bit her trembling lip. Her hand would have shaken if it weren’t still encased in James’. And now that his warm grasp left her it did shake.
“Well, hello there, Angela.” Mrs. O’Conner’s auburn hair was peppered with gray at the temples. Her slight hands reached out to clasp Angie’s darker bronzed one. “Welcome to the family.” She brought Angie in for a hug; her smile genuine. Her eyes kind and caring as she let go and turned towards the buffet stacked with goodies. “Now, let’s get you fed before Boomer here gets onto the table and eats everything.”
Boomer, their French Bulldog, danced around Angie’s feet. The poor thing decked out in a shamrock springy headband that said “Kiss Me” on one clover and “I’m Irish” on the other. Angie burst out with laughter and picked the dog up receiving wet sloppy kisses all over her face. How perfect. Her jitters left and she fell in love all over again with James’ family.
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The Pacific breezes blow many things in from the ocean, this time its power, greed, and murder.More info →
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