http://slow.writerscafe.org/kellawrites The original writings of author Kella Shiells en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776013063 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 "My shoes! Filipo's here with our shoes, Lissa!"  I flattened myself against the wall of the corridor as Mina dashed past, clad only in her yellow kirtle and linen shift. Her hair was half-braided on one side, the rest flowing loosely behind her like the mane of a galloping horse as she disapp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1428722/ Response written in 10-15 minutes. Writing Prompt: M&Ms, unlabeled can of soup, secret crush. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1423006/ “Mina? Mina?! Where is that wretched girl?” Giselle’s annoyance reverberated along the upstairs servant’s corridor, heralding her kitchen approach.  Taking that as his cue to be anywhere else, Gus claimed the last tart as he scurried out of the kitchen. With Cook’.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1394262/ Dinner came to a fairly abrupt halt following Gianni’s departure.  Mendici father and son stiffly accepted the thirty-one golden ducats before insisting that the hour grew late. “Are you quite sure, your grace?” my mother asked as she and I escorted the men to their carriage,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1394259/ Mother had strictly forbidden Cook from sending supper out until Duca Mendici arrived, and we all assembled in the parlor to wait with our spinning or books brought from the library.  The sun had not been seen for the last hour or more, and for that matter neither had the duke.   When pol.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1394255/ Gianni set the last of our baggage on the doorstep.  Beads of sweat dappled his brow, in defiance of the chill sweeping across the stable yard beneath Casa Dalvici’s shadow.  Behind him, Vico waved once more to me as he rode his horse - the prize I had awarded him for his valiant se.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1393089/ “Stefano said you would be out here.” I hastily ran my hand over my cheeks and straightened my shawl around me before turning to meet Gianni’s concerned gaze.  “I just needed some time to think, somewhere quiet…” “Ah, yes.”  His brown eyes .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392169/ The smell of bacon wrested me from Ezio Mendici’s terrifying pursuit, his grasping fingers with the bitten nails and gaudy rings grasping at my skirts as I fled.  As my eyes struggled to open against the blinding morning light, my back registered the presence of a large snuffling nose, g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392150/ My feet practically sang in relief as I released them from the confines of my shoes, rubbing each arch gently before slipping it into the water.  The brook babbled around my ankles, soaking the hem of my skirt where I had not hiked it up high enough.  I didn’t care. After six hours.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392145/ Well into the morning of our fourth day on the road, I stared off into the surrounding forest scenery, toying with the leather straps connecting the falchion's scabbard to my belt.  I very strictly kept from referring to it as 'mine', even in my own head; I would be forced to part with it at t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392143/ Despite the comforting warmth within the tavern, I pulled my cloak tighter about my person.  My coin purse lay heavy against my hip, full of what money Mother felt able to spare.  She had diverted approximately half of the cash collected -- six gold ducats' worth, in varying denominations.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392141/ Filipo met us in the stable yard.  I eased the horses to a halt and Augusto hopped down to help him unhitch and water the animals.   “It is good that you are back, signorina,” Filipo said, his tone betraying a hint of concern.  “The contessa was just asking after yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392140/        “Lissa!  Lissa, wait!” I slowed my pace so Mina could close the distance between us.  Her cheeks were flushed and she was panting hard from the unladylike effort to catch up to me.  Wild tendrils of dark hair shot out from the braid wreathing her.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392138/ Everyone's heard the story of Cinderella, because she's been the one telling it the loudest. Here's the real story you missed... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1392131/ Just a quick "slice-of-life" piece, which may/may not spin off into that historical fiction novel I keep promising myself I'll write one of these days. Originally a response to a college assignment. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/kellawrites/1391132/