#dailyprompt-1996 — Public Fediverse posts

Superstitious? Me? Pfft… Unless the Universe is Listening.

Are you superstitious?

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Am I Superstitious? Let’s Just Say… It’s Complicated.

This morning, my son and his buddies threw out a dangerous question: “Are you superstitious?”

Now, logically, I want to say no. I don’t walk around tossing salt over my shoulder or fearing black cats. But if we’re being honest… I also refuse to say things like “Wow, nothing has gone wrong today!” because I know the universe is listening.

So, am I superstitious? Let’s just say I respect the possibility of unseen forces—but I’m also not afraid to test them.

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Let’s break it down.

1. The ‘Don’t Jinx It’ Rule (AKA, I’m Not Stupid)

You ever confidently say something, only for life to immediately slap you in the face?

🔹 Example: “Ugh, I never get sick.” Boom—suddenly, I’m drowning in tissues and self-pity.
🔹 Pain Level: 9/10. Because why does the universe have to be so petty?

✅ How I Handle It: I knock on wood. Every time. Even if it’s fake. Even if people are watching. If I forget? You best believe I’m mentally whispering “no jinx, no jinx, no jinx” to undo the damage.

2. The ‘Something Feels Off’ Rule (My Sixth Sense is Real)

I don’t know if it’s energy, instinct, or just years of experience with people being sketchy, but if something feels wrong, I listen.

🔹 Example: Walking into a place and feeling an immediate, unexplainable sense of nope.
🔹 Pain Level: 10/10 if ignored. Because the ONE TIME I brushed it off, I ended up in a situation I never should have been in.

✅ How I Handle It: If my gut tells me to leave, I leave. No debating, no justifying. The last thing I need is to become the main character in a bad horror movie.

3. The ‘Ghosts? Prove Me Wrong’ Rule (I’m Ready for This Fight)

Unlike most people, I don’t fear ghosts, Ouija boards, or haunted places—I’m fascinated by them. Do I believe in spirits and the paranormal? Not really.

But am I willing to test it? Hell yes.

🔹 Example: While some people refuse to step foot in a haunted house, I’m the one saying, “Alright, if something’s here, show yourself.”
🔹 Pain Level: TBD. But honestly, if a ghost did prove me wrong, I’d be more excited than scared.

✅ How I Handle It: If the supernatural wants my attention, it better bring receipts. Until then, I’m keeping my skepticism and my curiosity wide open.

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So, Am I Superstitious?

Let’s put it this way—I don’t live in fear of bad luck, but I also don’t poke the bear (except when it comes to ghosts, apparently).

If knocking on wood, trusting my instincts, and challenging the unknown keeps things interesting, then I’m all in.

Now, tell me—are you superstitious?

Or are you the type to laugh in the face of fate?

Drop your thoughts in the comments… but if your luck suddenly changes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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My Secret Obsession: Dark Romance Audiobooks & The Voices That Make Me Swoon

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

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What’s Something Most People Don’t Know About Me?

If you asked Chat Ludlow, the commanding king of the dark Fae and richest man on Earth, what most people don’t know about him, he’d probably smirk and say, “Everything. They only see what I let them.”

That, my friends, is what I’m aiming for here—a little mystery, a little intrigue, and a lot of fun.

So, what’s something most people don’t know about me?

Well, I’m not just a dark romance enthusiast—oh no. I’ve got layers, much like Chat’s intricate plans to make Belle his forever (cue the swoon).

My Secret Obsession? Dark Romance Audiobooks 🎧

Yup, you read that right. While I live for crafting my own sizzling stories, I’ve got another obsession that’s just as intense: dark romance audiobooks. And not just any narrators will do—no, no.

My go-tos are the deliciously deep voices of Aiden Snow and Teddy Hamilton.

There’s something about the way they bring the tension, passion, and raw emotion of a story to life that keeps me hooked for hours.

Think of it as the Chat Ludlow experience—dangerous, seductive, and oh-so-intoxicating. Much like Belle, I can’t help but swoon every time those voices take over my headphones.

Just like how Chat’s deep, commanding voice sends Belle into a fluster, audiobooks narrated by these legends have the power to take any romance to the next level.

If you’re not already obsessed, trust me—you’re missing out on the ultimate audio romance experience.

Why Audiobooks? Because They Let You Escape.

Life, much like the worlds Chat and Belle navigate, can get overwhelming.

Between work, life, and the chaos in between, we all need a way to escape. And for me, that’s pressing play on a dark romance audiobook and letting those velvety voices take me into another world.

It’s a bit like falling headfirst into one of Chat’s steamy power games—except this time, it’s Aiden Snow telling me all the dirty details, and I don’t have to lift a finger.

When you listen to Aiden Snow or Teddy Hamilton, it’s like having your very own Chat Ludlow right in your ear, whispering all those dangerously sweet nothings.

What’s not to love? You can dive into a world of Fae kings, ruthless CEOs, and unrelenting passion—all while folding your laundry (because multitasking is key, am I right?).

Everyone loves a good escape.

Whether you’re listening to a podcast or, like me, you’re falling for a brooding fictional alpha on audio, there’s something magical about immersive experiences.

What This Says About Me (and Chat)

Now, I know what you’re thinking—What does an obsession with dark romance audiobooks have to do with writing or being Chat Ludlow’s obsession?

Well, everything, actually. People expect you to be a certain way based on what you create, but there’s always more beneath the surface.

For example, Chat may come off as a dominant, ruthless man in control of everything, but underneath it all, he’s fiercely in love with Belle—someone who softens his edges and makes him vulnerable.

Similarly, when I’m not writing, I’m melting into the worlds created by my favourite narrators, where love, danger, and passion intertwine in a way that’s just so satisfying.

Your Turn: What Don’t People Know About You?

Okay, now it’s your turn. I’ve spilled my secret—dark romance audiobooks narrated by the dreamy Aiden Snow and Teddy Hamilton. Chef’s kiss, right?

What’s something about you that people don’t expect?

Do you also escape into stories when life gets overwhelming, or is there another secret passion you’re hiding?

Drop a comment below and tell me your favourite audiobook narrator or what surprising hobby you’re obsessed with.

You never know—you might just find a fellow audiobook addict (and I’ll definitely be here fangirling alongside you).

#DarkRomance #AudioBooks #AudiobookAddict #SecretObsession #AidenSnow #TeddyHamilton

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Epilogue: A Toast to Treachery

The arrest of Inspector Salomone was a quiet affair, conducted with the discretion that only a small village like Speranza could muster. Inspector Davies, the unassuming but astute officer who had once investigated the death of Elias Thorne, led the disgraced Salomone away in handcuffs. The former guardian of the law did not rage; instead, he wore a look of terrified resignation, muttering about a “higher tempo” and a “conductor” who would not be pleased.

“I was merely the second fiddle, Moira,” Salomone hissed as he was placed into the squad car, his eyes darting toward the bell tower. “The orchestra plays on, with or without me.”

Back at the Coffee Taverna, the atmosphere was one of exhausted relief. The adrenaline that had fueled our escape from the Cigars House had faded, replaced by the heavy, comforting scent of roasted beans and the earthy aroma of Altea’s unlit tobacco.

We gathered around the table to open the bottle of Speranza, Year Zero. Altea, with the reverence of a priestess, used a corkscrew to pull the ancient stopper. It emerged with a satisfying pop, releasing not the smell of vinegar, but a rich, complex bouquet of dark cherries, leather, and… something metallic.

“To the soil of Speranza,” Anna toasted, raising her glass. “And to friendship, the only root that doesn’t rot.”

We drank. The wine was exquisite—velvety and deep. But as I set my glass down, Toe, my sleek black cat, jumped onto the table. He did not look at the wine. He looked at the cork.

With a surgical extend of a single claw, he hooked the cork and batted it toward me. It rolled across the wooden table, coming to rest against the base of the kerosene lamp.

“Look,” I whispered, the Poirot-like instinct twitching in my mind.

Burned into the side of the cork, hidden until it was pulled from the neck of the bottle, was not a vintage year. It was a sequence of musical notes. A specific, haunting trill.

“That’s not just a melody,” Marisa said, her face paling as she recognized the notation. “That is the opening bar of The Devil’s Trill sonata. It’s the signature of the ‘Maestro’—a legendary thief who steals not with silence, but with sound.”

A New dissonance

Before I could respond, the heavy oak door of the Taverna creaked open. The wind from the street blew in, extinguishing the candles and plunging us into a sudden, Hitchcockian gloom.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman, drenched from a sudden squall. She clutched a violin case to her chest as if it were an infant. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the same terror I had seen in Viviana Bellini’s face weeks ago.

“Dr. Hopes?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “They told me you could help. I am the second violinist for the quartet playing at the gala tonight. But… the first chair has vanished.”

She stepped into the light, and Ashwaganda let out a low, warning growl from his perch.

“He didn’t just disappear,” the woman sobbed, placing the violin case on the table next to the branded cork. “He vanished while he was playing a solo on stage. One moment the music was there, and the next… only silence. And in his place, they found this.”

She opened the case. The violin was gone. Resting in the velvet lining was not an instrument, but a perfectly preserved, severed finger of a marble statue—and a single, fresh cacao bean.

I looked at Altea, Anna, and Marisa. The “Conductor” Salomone had warned us about had already begun his performance. The wine was finished, but the overture to a new nightmare had just begun.

“Lock the doors, Anna,” I said, picking up the marble finger. “It seems our quiet life in Speranza is about to get very loud.”

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