Black doesn’t suit her for she craves fuschia, amber, mauve, and cyan.
Peacock feathers and shiny gold beads are the things she needs
yes, needs to weave through her vibrant red hair.
Not this dark, veiled hat that covers her curls and hides her striking blue eyes.
But funerals demand black, scream for tears.
For one day, she’ll provide both.
A trip to Goodwill, menthol smeared beneath her eyes.
Sure, she can be the grieving widow for a day,
smile over tuna casserole and peach pie.
All she has ever wanted is everything he owned.
And, oh yes, now she has it.
Up From the Ashes 
I liked the way you used colour there
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Thank you. I spent quite a few minutes with a color chart.
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Aha. So that’s your secret
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Oh, just one of many, dear man, one of many. 😉
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And now she has it, it seems!
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Yes indeed! When you have time read Bjorn’s story. Ours could be interwoven or mine a postscript or something. Pretty interesting.
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I will pop over and have a read now!
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Oh I hope this is the second part to my story… she might actually deserve it…
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I haven’t read your story yet! Off I go.
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Loved this – so full of imagery and so intriguing. You’ve left me wanting to know more!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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What a wonderful thing to say. Thank you.
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Poignant piece.
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Thank you.
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Interesting stories this week. What triggered this story? I like it but I’m wondering what was the trigger. I was torn between a serial killer and a pick up driving cowboy. Very strange week, nothing predictable. I like it.
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The frisbee cage reminded me of a pillbox hat with netting. The darkness of the scene is somber which invoked a funeral atmosphere. Ta-da “Unbound” was born. You’re right, many interpretations this week. I, too, thought about cowboys, not so much serial killers. Thanks for reading and wondering!
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The merry widow, playing at sadness for a day… hmmm… makes one wonder why she is not overly sad…
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Right!
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Lovely palette of colours and bereavement techniques, Alicia. I couldn’t help liking the woman and admiring the route of your inspiration. That last line doesn’t sit comfortably with me, grammatically, in relation to the line before, though I know what you’re saying.
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Thanks, Sandra. And thanks for the critique. Any suggestions? I’ve reread it and come up with nada.
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I think it’s because ‘does’ doesn’t link to anything in the preceding sentence. The best I can come up with is “All she has ever wanted is everything he owned.
And, oh yes, now she has that.” Because ‘does’ kind of begs ‘does what?’ To my mind, the penultimate sentence would have to read “all she has ever wanted is to have everything he ever owned’ in order for ‘And now she does (have everything he ever owned)’ to read correctly. It’s a nitpicky point which would only be of interest to a pedant like me. 😉 Sorry!
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Good heavens! Don’t be sorry! I love to learn more and more each day. (Plus I hate confusing people with incorrect grammar, even as I hate being confused!) I’ll work on that last sentence. Thank you kindly.
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Lessons from the best are to be treasured, Alicia.
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The Black Widow for the day and then back to technicolor. Beautifully written Lish, love the vibrancy of the descriptions, the colours, her suppressed desires. Not sure if I love her or loathe her – depends what he was like really. Wonderful
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Thanks, as always, Lynn. Have you read Bjorn’s story for the week. He pointed out how well our stories melded.
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Synchronicity of story – lovely stuff. My pleasure Alicia
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It was good of her to go to such lengths to appear the grieving widow, anyway 🙂
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Duty called, she answered. Thanks, Ali.
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Menthol smeared under her eyes. Goodness. What a cold woman!
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I googled how to make fake tears. She is rather harsh. Perhaps for good reason. Somehow the pickup truck in the back made me think of an unkind man although my husband, the nicest guy in the whole world, drives a pickup. It’s mainly a small work truck for his carpentry jobs. Thanks for reading.
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That’s a great story. Reads like a poem. Leaves much unsaid and clear at the same time. Loved it.
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Thanks very much. Alicia
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she doesn’t look like a widow in sorrow deep inside.
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You’re quite right.
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Crying on the outside but smiling within. Ooh she is wicked indeed.
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Exactly. Thanks for reading and commenting. Cheers!
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Your story made me wonder how anyone could rejoice in the death of someone with whom she’d shared a life. Even if the partner had been abusive, they would have been a close human presence. I suppose your MC is, to a certain extent, psychopathic.
Now, I noticed the colours you chose as those she needed in her vibrant red hair. You’re an accomplished writer, and you’ve chosen those colours carefully. Are you using them to indicate something fundamental about her character? (I say this with great trepidation, noting your own vibrant red hair and bearing in mind that you may have picked your own favourite colours…!)
Good story, Alicia!
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Thanks for wondering all those things, Penny. I think if one is completely selfish and free of emotion they could look at the death of another as “just something that happened.” And this woman certainly is. The colors? I liked the rhythm of them and the fact that they weren’t merely pink or blue or green. And peacock feathers fascinate me no end! Some many shimmering colors!
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I was left wondering for a few seconds if she killed him. Clearly I’m reading too many murder mysteries! 🙂 Brilliant story. So intriguing up to the end.
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Thank you! And, yes, she did kill him, so, no, you’re not reading too many murder mysteries. They’re so fun! Keep reading them.
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I read Bjorn’s story moments before I got here. The two fit nicely together. You painted a beautiful picture of her. I can just see the flaming hair and captivating blue eyes.
The caged bird is free at last!
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It’s always interesting when two writer’s muses are in sync, even if it’s for a brief combination of 200-words. Thanks for reading, Russell.
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Dear Lish,
Don’t know whether she’s a grieving widow or a triumphant gold digger. Beautifully colorful and well written.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks, Rochelle. Hope you’re having fun visiting family and friends.
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The use of colors is simply awesome. Wonderful story.
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Thanks very much. I’m so glad you liked the colors.
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Sure, she can be the grieving widow for a day because after that everything and all the colours will be hers. Loved the vibrancy of the first two lines and the contrasting revelation brought in the second para.
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Thank you, Norma. The picture is so dark. I felt my story needed a splash of color.
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Alicia, you surely filled FF with some bright colours for that dark picture. 🙂
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Smearing menthol under the eyes to feign tears – honestly, Alicia, this Friday Fictioneers game is so totally educational 😉 Loved your black widow and her resolve as she anticipated the funeral tea of tuna casserole and peach pie – which actually sounds quite appetising. Love your stories, Jilly.
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What a wonderful thing to say, Jilly. It’s crazy how, when writing, one suddenly thinks, ‘How the heck does someone produce fake tears?’ Then you Google it and there it is!!! As writers, we must hope no one looks at the trail of thinks we’ve researched. *how to poison someone. *fake tear. *gunshot wounds
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Wonderful story but so sad that someone is loved only for what can be gained from them after death. I’m afraid I don’t like your character Alicia which means you’ve written her well.
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Thanks, Irene, I don’t think I like her either.
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LOL
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What a cold woman. Your writing is so vivid, I can see her, fake tears and all.
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Thank you!
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Ha ha ha, that was a wicked ending.
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Glad you liked it.
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I thought this was great, the selfishness and avarice of the woman came over brilliantly with her yearning for the colours she chose and wanted.
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Thanks for such a lovely comment.
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You’re welcome
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LOL…yes, I think she can do this, for this one day.
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That’s all it will take! Thanks
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Oh, how villainous! She’ll get it all, and whatever consequences there be.
There was a local case years ago where the husband supposedly drowned in a shallow lake — no body ever found. Wife’s word only about what happened. The grieving widow (married only two years) cashed in everything, his prosperous farm and insurance policy, and left the area. But life has a way of snagging people’s plans. She lost the battle with cancer just a few years later, leaving everyone to wonder…
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Black Widows everywhere! Thanks for sharing that story. I can’t imagine doing away with my sweetie.
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Menthol under the eyes says it all. I imagine she will be throwing off her black with gay abandon later, and I’m left wondering if she helped her husband along …
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I think you’re right! Thanks, Sarah Ann.
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I love this piece, it tells so much, yet leaves so much to the reader.
Wonderful
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Thanks for stopping by and leaving such a nice comment. Alicia
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I wonder if she didn’t have a hand in becoming a widow.. She seems cunningly clever.
Great story, very vivid and fun to read!!
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Thanks so much, Rachel. It’s nice to have you back.
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Oooooo creepy motivations here. Well told. Love the vibrant colours mixed with black
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Thanks, Laurie. I’ve always thought wearing black at funerals was more than somber, but then would one wear bright green?
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oh, now this is devious. Good beginning to a longer story.
Phyllis
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Good idea! Thanks.
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What a wonderfully Gothic flavour to your tale Alicia, I can almost hear the widow purring with self-satisfaction !You ‘paint ‘the scene so effectively. Like the touch of menthol smeared beneath her eyes for grief…
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I owe that fact to the internet. It sounds painful to me! Thanks for reading.
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Alicia, what imagery.
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Thank you.
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