The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
by Rie Sheridan Rose
“No, really, Josh. I’d love to do it. Consider it a wedding present,” I purred into the phone, imbuing my voice with every bit of sincerity I could muster. “I’ve been dying to do a big wedding, and this is the perfect opportunity.”
Even if it was the last gig I ever got.
My ex continued to waffle on the other end of the line, so I ramped up the offer. “I’ll do the entire reception. Won’t cost you a penny. You can put that savings toward the honeymoon.”
That ought to get him. Joshua Morgan was known for how hard he could pinch a penny.
I held my breath, crossing my fingers until he finally sighed and accepted my offer. Plan B would have been a whole lot messier.
“I saw a post on Instagram or somewhere. Yeah, a charity in Africa is planning on planting orchards from the seeds, so if you eat any apples, just save me the core. I’ll come pick them up.”
I repeated basically the same line to everyone I knew or met—except Josh and Bridezilla, of course. The cores piled up, making my pantry smell like a cider press. It wasn’t unpleasant.
At night, I carefully extracted the seeds that had come in that day, and added them to my collection. Google had offered the information I wanted after some persuasion. 18-40 apples each…good thing I’d started early.
Y’know, apple seeds are harder to pulverize than you might think.
The big day. Or should I say, their big day. That little ‘ir’ on the end made such a difference. I was up all night baking. I really was beginning to get a rep as a great event baker. They would never have been able to afford me if I hadn’t comped the whole affair. It was a Spring themed wedding. Lots of pastels. Light and flowery. I decided to go with the theme, and make cupcakes instead of a big cake. Easier to make sure they all had the right ingredients that way.
Pretty little cupcakes with spiraling crowns of buttercream and some of those little mints Josh was so fond of on top. After all, I didn’t want to disappoint.
Dozens and dozens of my special cupcakes. One for each guest. Each one with just the right amount of the secret ingredient.
Just call me Joanna Appleseed.
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
Overheard in Hell:
Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…
…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.