Cindy Calder
Bio
From Charleston SC - "I am still learning." Michelangelo
Stories (234/0)
Dark Masquerade
The night was unseasonably warm for February. Though Adrienne had not yet danced, her face behind the mask was finely misted with perspiration and beads of sweat were also running between her breasts. Eighteenth Century Attire, just as Angelique had specified in the invitation. Adrienne sighed, fanning herself with the intricate fan that had come with her rented costume. She dearly loved her eccentric friend, but for the love of God, could Angelique not have picked a cooler night for festivities requiring such heavy garments?
By Cindy Calderabout a month ago in Fiction
The Man in the Trench Coat
Adelaide visited the same café, bright and early every morning. She sat, for the most part, unnoticed, just as she preferred, sipping a cup of coffee and struggling to write her novel on a laptop. And each morning, she looked forward to seeing him, the man in the trench coat. He arrived every morning at nine o'clock on the dot, and without fail, he always wore the same trench coat. He cut quite an impressive figure, exceedingly handsome and confident in both his attire and demeanor. He never looked her way, but from where she sat seated in the corner, Adelaide would watch him through half-shuttered lashes. What was beneath the trench coat, she could not help but wonder, her mind running rampant with the possibilities.
By Cindy Calderabout a month ago in Fiction
Dia de los Muertos
It was November 2nd, the last day of el Dia de los Muertos. Carmen Maria Isabella Sande Junquera entered the cathedral, pausing to dip her fingers in the holy water basin and bow to the crucifix while crossing herself. Candles lit the cathedral as far as she could see, their lights bouncing off the massive 24-karat décor. Though it was dimly lit, Carmen observed the church appeared to be vacant. Where was everyone? This was abuela’s funeral mass and her abuelita knew more than half the town. It was unthinkable that no one had shown up for it save her granddaughter.
By Cindy Calderabout a month ago in Fiction
Unspoken Understanding
I look up and spy him just mere inches from where I lay propped in the bed, reading my book. He’s elegantly situated just down from me. His step was so soft and silent, I didn’t hear or feel him as he entered the room and jumped onto the bed. He’s such a beautiful, sweet boy. So soft, sleek and elegant with every move he makes.
By Cindy Calderabout a month ago in Humans
