Modeled after Giovanni Boccaccio's classic from the 14th Century, this collection similarly brought 100+ short stories to Wattpad readers. The original's premise was simple: ten individuals entertained themselves over a span of ten days by telling a...
I took a deep breath. It was my turn to tell a tale. A fierce wind rattled the leaded windows in their frames. Flurries of snow concealed the earth in a wintry blanket. How many days had we sat here? Five? Seven? I'd lost count after the electricity zapped out, leaving us to pass the time telling stories.
"All right," I said to the nine expectant faces. "I'll tell you about Nora."
***
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The tiny seaplane bumped and shuttered, jarring me from horrified daydreams of death by crash landing. I removed the battered note from my pocket and read it again.
Kelley
A free ticket begs for travel.
Love,
Nora
For the last ten years, I'd meant to visit Nora on Salt Spring Island, but life kept getting in the way. Then the certified letter arrived with a free ticket and the note nestled inside. Nora sure knew how to get her way. I smiled at her neat script and pocketed the note again.
Another bump shook the tin can on wings, and I wished I'd grabbed a shot of something strong and brown before boarding the flying coffin. I chanced a glance out the foggy, oval window, and the most spectacular view greeted me. For a moment I forgot my desire to scratch my last will and testament into the seat in front of me. I gazed out over the emerald beauty of the island reminiscent of Maxime Maufra's staggering landscapes.
A few minutes later, our tiny vessel skittered its pontoons onto the surface of Ganges Harbour and taxied to the dock where Nora waited.
She looked stunning. Bright streaks of silver highlighted her shoulder length hair, sparkling in the afternoon sun. A brick-red tank top and beige skirt hugged her trim waist. We'd both become obsessed with cycling back in college, and her firm, forty-four-year-old frame was a testament to her dedication to the two-wheeled machines.
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"I'm so happy you're here!" she squealed. We hugged the hug of long-lost friends.
"Don't act surprised," I said. "You knew I wouldn't pass up a free ride. Blame it on the Irish. I'm told we're cheap."
