Friday Fictioneers–The Sangria 4 comments


“He dropped me when I was forty. She was even younger,” said the lite beer motioning towards a Scotch-rocks at a nearby table, “I bet he’s already got another one lined up.”

“Why would he leave me for her?” wailed the marguerite, eyeing a tall sangria.

“Quiet. Here she comes.”

The sangria joined them under the yellow umbrella on the patio, the silence as icy as the fresh round of drinks.

“I suggest we work together,” said the sangria, smiling a Cheshire cat smile, “The bastard will be asleep by ten.”

“I’ll bring the shovel,” said the lite beer.


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About Sorchia

I’m S.K. Dubois—writer, editor, and unapologetic lover of all things wonderfully weird and magically delicious. I call the Missouri Ozarks my home, where the misty woods and mysterious hills inspire my tales of urban fantasy, paranormal mysteries, and otherworldly mayhem. When I’m not conjuring up stories, I’m helping fellow authors polish their manuscripts, especially if they involve magic, murder, or things that go bump in the night.

4 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers–The Sangria

  • Nan Claire Falkner

    I think I used the wrong box too – Sorry – but this is a cute story – and funny. Maybe a bartender (?) was listening to a conversation by women in the bar and named them by their orders. I, myself, am a Double Vodka lime. Really good!

  • rochellewisoff

    Dear Kay,

    I made a comment but think I used the wrong box. So if you get two from me you’ll know why. I said that your story gives new meaning to the term “Evil Spirits.” Nice one.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

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