Sunday, May 3, 2026
Hello, all and happy May. Thanks for dropping in for another “Cronesboro” writing exercise. Describing a location can add substance to a story. However, it doesn’t have to be multiple paragraphs (or pages) of description. Another way to handle that description is by telling about a character’s reaction to a place. How the character perceives the place can be the picture that speaks a thousand words. Although… the photo the inimitable Kerfe submitted to the Thursday Doors Writing Challenge (#TDWC) does speak volumes.
Anyhow, for this exercise, I’m working with the main character’s reaction to a specific brick & mortar location. Which of the locations that were suggested in comments did I use? Roberta Eaton Cheadle thought of a police station, and that grabbed my attention. So, laying the groundwork, last time I brought in police sirens at the end.
With the locations, I was hoping someone would specifically mention a Chinese restaurant, because I have a half-formed idea, and that would give me the chance to do either some more foreboding, or hints, or red herrings — or maybe all of the above. Happily, in the same comment, Robbie mentioned a “room in a restaurant,” so maybe I can run with it. Yeah buddy, I have several ideas that would relate to that Chinese restaurant. Unfortunately, there’s no Chinese food for us today. Maybe next time.
Enough of my balah-de-blah. Let’s go.
If you want to refresh your mind on the story in the previous two exercises, they’re here:
One: Foreshadowing/Foreboding and Two: Unexpected Locations.
Last Time in Cronesboro
“A security drone got footage of you outside of your car, parked by Chaos Creek,” he went on and I shrugged mutely, but then I recalled the ballcap that had caught my attention where it lay in the dirt.
“There was a dead body in the dry creek bed,” he replied evenly and moved to stand between me and the front door.
The Dragons of Cronesboro: 3
Where’s Billy the Kid When You Need Him?
Ten minutes later, I felt like I had stepped back in time about a hundred years. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see the ghosts of Billy the Kid and Pat Garrett have a shootout on the front steps. The building served Cronesboro as both the county courthouse and the station for local law enforcement. It would not have looked out of place in the fabled Wild West.
Inside, the ceiling was mottled with yellow stains from long ago leaks. The door to the sheriff’s office looked beaten-up with countless nicks in the wood. Although it had a weighty look and it had a frosted window bearing the words, “Hoyt Bigby, Sheriff.”
I looked across the desk at the middle-aged sheriff. His eyes twitched from too much caffeine. Or I assumed that was the cause, based on several empty energy drink cans in the wastebasket. His thumb rubbed the intricate silver setting of the turquoise stone of his bolo tie. It appeared to be a self-soothing gesture.
“Sheriff, why am I here?” I asked, keeping my voice cool and level.
“Oh now, don’t worry. You aren’t under arrest or anything,” he assured me in a patronizing tone that immediately got on my last nerve.
“Then why am I here? You could have asked me these questions in my living room,” I stopped myself for a second, keeping my temper in check. “Sheriff, I’ve had a long drive. I haven’t even unpacked my pajamas, and I’ve told you that the only thing I saw in that dry creek bed was a bright aqua baseball cap.”
“What’s your relationship with the man who was on your front porch? We all know that he wasn’t a delivery man.”
“Wha—? I’ve never seen that man before. I don’t have any knowledge of him, and I certainly don’t have any kind of relationship with him,” I sputtered indignantly.
“Come on now, Trinity… Lovers? Friends with benefits?” he managed to leer, wink, and frown all at the same time. “I know you’re working together. Who are you working for? Or is it all your idea? If you roll on him, I’ll make sure the DA gives you a sweet deal.”
“Of all the absurd— That’s it. I’m leaving. If you want to talk to me, do it through my attorney,” I fired back at the sheriff, but wondered what lawyer I could call, since the one from the real estate office that handled the sale of my new home was the only one I knew.
The door to the dingy office creaked open. The very old, very petite deputy, who had pulled me over for speeding when I drove into town, sauntered into the room. A swirl of smoke trailed behind her.
I automatically put my hand to my face, because tobacco made me sneeze. But the impulse didn’t come to my nose. I was relieved that she must have left the cigarette outside. Although I could strongly smell what had to be the match she had used, at the time it didn’t register with me that I did not smell tobacco.
“Didn’t I just give you a warning a few minutes ago? And here you are already in trouble again?” she demanded of me in a dire tone, but with a twinkle in her eyes, before turning to the sheriff. “Hoyt Bigby, why are you wasting time?”
“This woman is a stranger here,” growled the sheriff, who puffed out his chest, but sounded defensive. “And she was caught on camera looking out at the arroyo where the body was found.”
What a welcome! I thought angrily. No wonder this town is dying if they treat everybody who moves here like a murder suspect.
“Of course she’s new here. She just bought Mrs. Askook’s house. Besides that, Hoyt,” the deputy added. “I’ve had eyes on her ever since she got to the detour, hours ago.”
“Sunshine,” the sheriff started, but the woman’s eyebrows climbed dangerously and he corrected himself. “Um, Deputy Benally, you know that detour is unsanctioned.”
“The detour puts people on the safe route to Cronesboro,” she hissed at him.
“Blah, blah,” he replied in a childish peeve. “The silver mine to the south, the holy creek to the north, and the Rez to the west… there’s only one unprotected route, blah, blah. That’s all superstition. The fact is, there’s been a murder, and furthermore, Zia Askook is missing and this woman’s taken possession of her house!” he added, working himself up as he went. “It looks like this woman is connected to all of it.”
Deputy Benally’s eyes widened. Her face was a mask of indignation and anger. She was hard to read, but I thought she might be an ally. Besides, I was always afraid any conflict could get out of control. Hoping to give them a chance to cool off, I said the first thing that popped into my mind.
“Mrs. Askook is missing? So, she isn’t dead? I thought the house was sold as part of her will,” I blurted out quickly.
“Hon, it’s complicated,” the deputy told me but immediately returned her gaze to the sheriff, who no longer seemed to be in charge. “And Hoyt, you know better than to call me Sunshine. Even when you think I can’t hear you.”
“Well, your name’s Aelia, and it means sunshine. Besides, my tongue gets twisted around AY-lee-ah,” he complained, drawing out the syllables of her name.
Sheriff Bigby’s remark did nothing to dim her glare. I’ll give the man credit for knowing the better part of valor, because he blustered and mumbled about having work to do and discretely left the room.
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A girl with long straight black hair poked her head into the office right after the sheriff left. She spoke softly to Deputy Benally. I heard apple martini (and wished I had one) and the name Ladon. That should be Marisol, the casita’s tenant. Rather, I reminded myself, my tenant. She said something else that sounded like WEH-doh. I thought it was a name.
“Get somebody to drive you home tonight, hon. Promise me you won’t be out after dark until I tell you it’s okay,” Deputy Sunshine (I couldn’t think of her as anything else after hearing the ironic name) told the girl in a firm voice, and got a sincere nod in return.
“C’mon,” she said to me. “I’ll give you a lift to the Jade Dragon. Marisol and the Voodoo Ranger will take you home from there. But if you have drinks, watch out for the special sake. Nobody admits anything, but I think they must have put some peyote in it somehow or other,” the deputy told me with a wink.
“Voodoo?” I asked and my voice broke into a squeak which caused the tiny woman to guffaw.
“Ha! His first name’s Ranger — and he’s from New Orleans. It was just a matter of time before somebody hung the Voodoo Ranger handle on him,” she replied and headed out the door causing me to hurry to catch up with her.
Why did I wonder if she was the one who started the voodoo nickname? I gave a rueful shake of my head and followed her.
Outside, I again was aware of the Old West vibe of the place. Hoyt Bigby, was leaving in his four-wheel drive sheriff truck. He paused, blocking the deputy’s cruiser. He put on a pair of “sunglasses” with yellow lenses, which helped with night vision and the glare of lights. He also seemed to think they made him look cool.
I wished the ghost of Billy the Kid would magically materialize and kick his ass. Bigby couldn’t resist a parting shot at me.
“Don’t leave town, Ms. Roy,” he sneered and then burned rubber out of the parking lot.
Sunshine gave a derisive snort. My gaze followed the sheriff’s truck down the road that went through the town. Turning in the opposite direction, I could see the route I had taken into Cronesboro. The streetlights ended at the edge of town. The sky there was dotted with bats. They darted every which way, but never came all the way to the lights. Some of the bats seemed a good deal larger than others.
Go ahead and call me New Agey, but Cronesboro had an energy that was unlike any other place to which I had been. I mean that in a good way. My skin prickled. Only partially aware of my movement, I held my arms out a little way from my sides and drank in the starlit sky.
Deputy Sunshine smirked, but she nodded companionably as if she knew the sensation I was experiencing. She stretched her arms heaven ward and drew in a deep lungful of air. When she exhaled, her breath wafted to me on the nighttime breeze. It was hot and faintly tinged with the scent of matches.
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Do you see what I mean by describing a place vs letting a character react to it? Friendly comments are welcome. Hugs!
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Oh, but wait! Here’s the obligatory shameless self-promotion. This is the second book in set in that quirky magical town, Atonement, Tennessee.
Atonement in Bloom
Universal Purchase Links
Series Link: relinks.me/B087JV25JT
Kindle: rxe.me/5RRBLH
Paperback: relinks.me/1726882128
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Copyright © 2026 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
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