By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Chapel Image by KL Caley

She had to get to the Chapel, it was the only place that might offer her refuge. She could not, absolutely not marry some decrepit ogre from another county she had never met.

Yes, at 18 and not married, she’d be too old for marrying soon. None of the suitors her uncle had brought forth previously had, well, suited her.

This time, she’d not been given a choice. The marriage license had been drawn up by her uncle and her intended’s man, whatever that meant. Well, she was having none of it. Not one single bit of it.

She was here to see Father Kilpatrick about joining the Sisters Order. She would become a nun before she let some stinky curmudgeon touch her, anywhere. No one could stop her, no one would.

Fiadh jerked hard on the chapel door handle, it didn’t budge. Using both hands she tugged the ancient door hard, it burst open, tossing her to the ground. She landed amid a sea of her colorful skirts, right on top of the newly turned flower bed.

A man dressed in colors generally reserved for the Royalty, let out a very manly-type expletive before he spied Fiadh sitting and stewing he surmised, in the middle of the moist soil of the chapels garden.

“Look at the state o’you!” he exclaimed, reaching a hand out to help Fiadh right herself.

Her face reddened with embarrassment, turning the skin over her high cheekbones to the most lovely rose color the gentleman had ever seen.

Fiadh released his hand immediately upon gaining her balance, turned to shake off the soil clinging to her skirts and looked up into the face of the most comely man she had ever laid eyes on.

“‘Ere let me help you, Lass.” He held his breath, waiting for a rebuke to his assumption, hope, that she remained unmarried.

“Thank you,” she replied softly, mesmerized by the aqua color of his eyes. “You are most beautiful,” she said quite honestly.

“Your beauty outshines that of any other Lady or Lass in this entire land,” he answered, smiling at her innocent forthrightness.

Fiadh blushed harder, the rose deepening upon her cheeks. They both began speaking, stopped then started again in unison. Once their laughter subsided, the young man introduced himself.

“If I may, my name is Braedyn Farlyn and ‘tis very nice to meet you!” He said, reaching to pick a bit of dirt from her hair.

A thunderous noise engulfed them, from the East to the West. Horses pounded the cold ground in an effort to heed their Master’s wishes.

“Oh no, my uncle,” she was barely able to whisper through her panic.

“My father,” he groaned softly.

They looked at each other questioning, “What?” Simultaneously, which brought answering smiles again.

“Go head, please but hurry Fiadh,” the sound of her name rolling off his tongue in the most lovely tone sounding like fee-a.

“My uncle is trying to marry me off to some old codger to give him sons, but I can’t, I just can’t!”

Her unshed tears were his undoing. What a Lass she was, beautiful aye, but he could see through to her heart and she was a treasure, his treasure. The thought startled him.

“Marry me,” he said. “Say yes quickly Fiadh before my father and his men get here to carry me away to marry some old spinster from a farm near here,” his words stringing together in a mad rush of explanation.

“Yes, yes please Lord Farlyn,” she answered quickly.

“Braedyn,” he said.

“Yes, Braedyn,” she began but her hushed response was cut short when he pressed his lips to hers, sealing their commitment for both contingencies to witness.

Braedyn‘s father arrived only a moment before Fiadh’s uncle galloped up on his prized stud, pulling cruelly on the reigns to halt his charge.

The two older men looked at the couple embracing each other on the chapels threshold. Both let out belly-rolling guffaws before addressing their younger kin.

Braedyn’s father spoke first,
“I see the two of you have met and yer both agreeable to the match?” He said.

“Finally!” Groaned Fiadh’s uncle but not unkindly. In fact, he looked quite pleased.

The young couple pulled away from each other, their eyes full of disbelief and wonder.

“You?” Fiadh asked.

“You?” Braedyn asked.

“Well, get on with it then,” stated Fiadh’s uncle, “We ‘aven’t all day to dilly dally ‘ere!”

The young couple glanced around at the multitude of smiling faces surrounding them, before looking back at each other. Their smiles matching their kins, they stepped into the cool refuge of the chapel. Their hearts now full of joy and hope for the future, their future cocooned in blossoming love.

The End

Night Terror

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to
Fandango’s Story Starter
“I woke from a sound sleep up with a start, turned on my nightstand light, and…”

It was late, hours past midnight. I woke from a sound sleep up with a start, turned on my nightstand light, and couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t catch my breath. His weight on my chest prevented inhalation. I tried pushing him off but he was strong, so very strong. I tried not to panic when his tongue swiped up my neck to my face and he started nibbling on my lip.

“Get off,” I huffed out. This seemed to inspire not deter him. Again another saliva filled lick and nip at my face, his drool ran down my reddening cheeks.

He moved slightly, I took a big breath and heaved. He rolled slightly to the side. I took the opening and ticked his stomach to keep his attention off of me. It worked! The big beast was insanely ticklish.

After a moment he rolled over, lifting his head, a gigantic grin on his face.

“You big lug, I was trying to sleep,” I admonished my two-hundred twenty-five pound English Mastiff, Thor. We curled up, spooning like an old married couple, and slept.

Koda (my Pomsky) and Tala (my Wolfdog) – THOR is fictional but I’d love to have one!

The Getaway

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Image credit: Yaopey Yong @ Unsplash

In response to Sadje’s
What Do You See Prompt #146

She needed to pedal faster, but her little brother was barely holding on. Marika promised her mother that she would get her baby brother to safety and she would do it, no matter what. Kiyoshi begged her to slow down, but she could not. He slipped and screamed, with one hand she hauled him up behind her, yelling at him to hold tight around her waist.

Marika risked a quick glance behind her, she gasped. Hundreds and hundreds of citizens ran from the blossoming white cloud that had enveloped the city proper. She pedaled faster, up and up to the top of the mountain and down the other side until she found her private hideaway; a small cave that was just big enough for them, plus the big bicycle her mother had borrowed.

They had only just entered the cave and pulled the over-large bicycle in when the entire mountain began to shake. The wind moaned as though tortured by the ominous white cloud and then a noise so loud, they held their hands tightly over their ears for a very long time. Then there was nothing but painful silence – everywhere.

The Osprey Feather

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photograph by F.E. Jones

An Osprey left a gift today
one you found while walking
along the path on your way

A short walk to get some air
the breeze so nice a slight rain
and the weather so very fair

Upon the trail you happened to see
a long lovely Osprey feather
and gave it to me

Your words this night rang true
was a most beautiful thing to hear
so clear and heartfelt from you

Before I was in your life
and you were in mine
you wore a mantle of strife

Now because your heart and mine
are no longer two but only one
the Osprey feather does us bind

Restless Rita

– A Silly Ditty

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
In response to A Letter A Week – R,
Hosted by NOPE, NOT PAM

Restless Rita ran wherever she went
right up to the red hour
when it was time to hop
into her bright rosey bed

As soon as the moon slipped
away for its daily respite
Restless Rita was up running about
with her best friend Roberta

Roberta and Rita ran quite fast
they ran long and they ran hard
Suddenly Roberta and Rita
realized they had run too far

They’d passed Ruth’s Steak House
and Ruby’s Hair Salon
They’d even gone by Roger’s Inn
On Fifth and Reindeer Street

Rubbing their faces and wondering
what they were going to do
When Roberta’s dad Rubin pulled
up in his old 1958 Rambler A

Both girls received quite a lecture
about playing close to home
He reiterated his point when they
got to Roberta’s house

Rita’s dad was waiting at Roberta’s
a very stern look on his face
After that neither girl could race
with red bottoms and two red faces

Triple O7

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photo prompt @ Sandra Crook

In response to Rochelle Wisoff’s 100 word only – picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers.

The man was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. That white hair and close trimmed beard and mustache, had her salivating and not just from her mouth. Unbelievably, he had chosen her out of the dating group she had been assigned to.

That had been earlier. Dinner was exquisite, the wine expensive and their shared dessert, beyond description. Now they were in his silver 2023 Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut and had bypassed the 100 mph mark all the while driving on the sidewalk no less!

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Triple O7 at your service my love. Hold on!”


By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

An ache awakens so deep
so unquestionably profound
it tramples physical pain
into near non-existence

A lover drives away dust swirling
next interlude unknown to each
the ache begins deep within the heart
where he is held quietly and secretly

Ache expands and explicates
watching the moving van lumber
down the neighborhood street
taking a best friend far away

A child once innocent and sweet
grown into a rapacious adult
her countenance distant and cold
the swelling ache unsustainable

Sitting alone in a darkened room
heartache devours the soul
leaves behind an aged empty shell
so much heartache left there now

Little Seed

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photo By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Little seed I planted deep
Spreading water all around
Up strong and so tall

Or will you stay snug
wrapped in
your soil
covered rug
To stay little and small
at all

Another Jamboree

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #270 – JAMBOREE
in 86 words exactly.

Another jamboree marches by, I smile and I cry and I smile some more. The festival colors, all a flutter in rain or in shine bring a tear of gladness to my eye, a hidden tear of agony to my heart.

Watching people strolling around, dancing around, happy and laughing within the crowd, brings me such joy. You are there walking so free without me, unable to walk by your side, I die inside. Then you look up and smile and I smile again – for you.

(86 Words)