Jill finds a shard from a large pot that shows a little man playing the panpipes. The broken clay didn’t make a good photo, but here’s the same motif on a silver jug. PERIL,PASSION, PERU.
She turned it over and over in her hand. “Why, that raised part looks almost like a little figure. He’s playing—what do you call them—the panpipes?”
“Right, the panpipes are ancient. And see how the bottom of the piece is curved? It’s part of a lid, perhaps, broken off a pot. The little guy could be the handle.”
Jill rubbed her thumb over the shard, thrilled at her connection to the past. “How old is it?”
“Hard to tell just from a fragment. From the feel of the clay…maybe eight hundred years.”
“Wow!” She smiled radiantly at Dex, and he grinned back. “Better watch out, you’ll catch the pot-hunting fever.”
Oh no. Frank used this fascination to hook her. She couldn’t let herself be sucked in again. Her head throbbed. Manhattan…books…publishing…the bright lights of Broadway. That was her world, not this blistering sun. Scrunching her eyes tight behind the sunglasses, Jill tried to force the headache back into darkness. Her fingers still clung to the shard.
About Eve Dew Crook
I’ve bounced from East Coast to West Coast with many stops in between, now live in Arizona with my artist husband. Not into sports, though I used to play a mean game of pingpong. Love to travel, read, write, walk with a book on my I-phone while I gaze at the scenery, attend concerts and watch lots of movies. Like to pal around with friends, especially writers and readers, and look forward to hearing from readers of my books. You can find out more about me at http://evedewcrook or e-mail me at email@example.com.
Oh, yes, I also like to write poems. Here’s “The Song of the Lovesick Siren.” I love you, I love you, I love you so madly, If I tried to tell you I’d do it so badly. I love you for will be, for was and for is, If I were a soda, I’d give you my fizz. I love how you think, and I love how you feel, I love you for promise, I love you for real. I love you for touching, I find you enticing, If I were a cupcake, you’d lick off my icing. I love you for dreaming, for taking and giving, I love what you put into warm-blooded living. I love you completely, I’m out of control. If I were a doughnut, I’d give you my whole. ? --Eve Dew Crook Author: Taking the Tumble Peril, Passion, Peru