I’m writing this story for the blog, “Teagan’s Books”. This week the subject for the series on the senses in the final sense of “touch”. The website for this entertaining blog is as follows:


Mable Whittenton hugged her wool coat with its warm fur collar close to her as the cooler winter air swirled around her, chilling her sensitive skin. She looked for her first-class car on the long Orient Express that sat in the Paris station.

Her husband, Eric, was waiting in Istanbul. He was now stationed there as a member of the British Embassy.

Her personal steward, Wilson, recognized her and introduced himself as she stepped on board. He personally directed her to her compartment. She felt relief at receiving such excellent service. His warm smile made her feel at home.

What met her eyes in the compartment was the  smooth Cuban mahogany on the walls and gleaming polished brass lamp and wash basin fixtures. She turned on the hot water faucet and warm water flowed over her fingers. The towels hanging beside the immaculate basin felt soft and fluffy.

Mable sat down on the couch and sank into the soft padded comfort. It would be her bed at night.

Eric and she had only been married a year so she felt a mixture of love and excitement at joining him in Istanbul. As she ran her finger over the engraving on the gold ring, memories of their wedding filled her mind.

Soon Wilson came to direct her to the dining car. There she sat in a comfortable chair at a small table covered with a soft linen cloth. Her tableware was shining French silver, beautiful china plates and bowls, and heavy crystal glassware. The food was exquisite. A feeling of fullness made her sleepy.

Back in her compartment, the couch was now made into a bed with the soft white bed linen and a buoyant but warm blanket. She fell asleep dreaming of meeting with Eric at the end of the line.



Written Act of Kindness Award





Photo Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Here we are again this week. Today we’re strolling through a virtual mansion built in the early 19th Century. We’re here to discuss our original stories for the week. This is the Friday Fictioneer’s group. Our hostess, who leads us to a gathering in the massive virtual dining room, is the gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for each of us is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was supplied by Rochelle. Thanks again, Rochelle.

To read the other stories from group members, just click on the little blue frog in the blue box, after clicking on the link. The link for the other stories this week is as follows:

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words


How I wish now I’d never let my cousin Bea talk me into  going to inspect the old Marlowe place. It had been a stunner in its day–all marble, crystal, hand carving, and hardwood flooring. Now it was an empty, dusty, rotting shell, smelling of mold and mildew.

No one had lived in it for decades since the tragedy of the last Marlowes. Mr. Marlowe had gone insane, shooting his wife and three children.

I noticed the chill when we walked in. It was 90 degrees outside.

The worst part was the children heard my name and followed me out.




Written  Act of Kindness Award