Sick

I'm finally getting better after being sick so I'll be able to post an update this week.
Rose B.

Reporters

    Reporters are trained to develop a sixth sense, a nose for when a story smells fishy. And something about this one wasn't right. First of all, this woman looked a little too excited to see me. No one was ever that excited about an unannounced press visit. We were called vultures, parasites and scum most of the time. I had been called worse things from time to time but welcomed? No, never welcomed. Especially, this close to the discovery. And secondly, the look in the woman's eyes was something closer to satisfaction than sorrow.
    I watched her carefully behind my mask of pleasantness. She gave me the same spiel she gave the police pausing only to ask if I wanted more tea. I wrote it all down despite not believing a word of it. Her smile was barely contained when she expressed shock and despair at hearing how the girl had been beaten and assaulted.
    I uttered sympathy when she explained having to find a new babysitter. Never letting on that I knew she was lying. It all clicked into place when she told me she was thinking of getting a boy sitter this time instead of a girl, but she had yet to mention it to her husband since he locked himself in his room with grief and had yet to emerge.
    I bid her good day and strolled away from the house. My mind spinning as I couldn't wait to tell my boss that the babysitter had been sleeping with the husband and that was probably why the wife had her killed.

Dreamer

I lived in this town my whole life, and most of the time that's fine by me. But in late fall when the sky fills with birds migrating south for the winter, traveling thousands of miles, I get homesick for places I've never been. Places like New York, Rome, and London. Nothing ever happens in this small community and sometimes I just wish for excitement. There are no drastic changes or unexpected surprises here. All the normal stuff happens kids rebel, relationships end but eventually, everyone marries their high school sweetheart and settles down. Very rarely does someone decide to leave but even when that happens it's not surprising.
I doubt I will ever leave this town. I have no reason to leave but it doesn't stop me from wishing something, anything would happen.
My family calls me a dreamer. I think it's the most accurate description. I don't have the courage to be an adventurer or the confidence to be a rebel. No, I sit at home and dream of other things, other places that I'll never go.

Winter

    The wind whispered through the dark, empty trees like a warning in a foreign language. Winter was coming, and with winter, all life would seem to stop. The part would shut down and no travelers would be able to get through the snow. The residents of our port town would stay locked in their homes.
    I breathed in the cooling air. All the merchants selling winter wares would be gone in two days, just before the water froze over and no more ships could get through. I slipped through the trees, silently as possible so as not to startle the wildlife. Just two days left until the world would freeze, and I would no longer be able to enjoy the woods. Then it would be several months until the bravest soul would venture out into the winter.
    I checked a trap I had set out before glancing up at the orange and pink sky. There was still some time before dark I could check the last trap before I had to travel back. As I moved on a shuffling sound came from my right. I froze. It wasn't the wind it sounded almost...human.
    The shuffling came again and I crept towards it, slowly. I stopped behind some bushes and moved a branch to see into the clearing beyond. A boy lay on the freezing ground. I blinked in surprise before moving closer. His clothes were light and clearly weren't meant for the winter. His blond hair was longer than I expected but still short enough to see his eyes were closed.
    He shivered creating the shuffling sound I heard. I felt my lips twitched into a smile, maybe something good had come in with the winter. But first things first, I had to get the mysterious boy somewhere safe and warm.

Flowers and Chocolates

    "How did you know?" I asked, not sure I wanted the answer. I thought I had been careful. I thought she hadn't noticed, been to oblivious to notice. I should have known better.
    Her eyes sparked with rage, "How could I not know? If you thought you were being secretive, you're a bigger fool then I thought. Or did you think I was to stupid to notice!"
    I didn't say anything, answering wouldn't help the situation. She didn't seem to care that I didn't answer and continued speaking.
    "What do you think I thought when things that weren't mine and clearly weren't yours, unless you developed a habit of cross-dressing, showed up around the house. I knew the moment you brought her home and introduced us that she was the one."
    She started pacing on the other side of the kitchen bar. The plates and glasses have been forgotten.
    "You picked a fine looking specimen but does she even have a brain beneath all that hair or did she kill all her brain cells with how much perfume she wears. You couldn't even pick someone interesting. She's such a stereotypical homewrecker type that it's disgusting. Were you even thinking when you choose her or was you're smaller brain taking up to much blood."
    She glared at me as if daring me to defend myself. When I didn't say anything she snatched her keys and purse before moving towards the door, "I'm not going to give you a solution so you better find one on your own otherwise things are going to start burning and I won't care who they belong to."
    The door slammed shut and her car peeled out of the driveway so fast I thought she would leave marks. My shoulders sagged and all the air left my lungs. I collapsed into a chair and stared blankly out the window. Flowers and chocolates weren't going to cut it this time.

This Isn't a Dream

    Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pinched herself, she would wake up. But she didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream world where nothing could seem to go wrong. In here her looks didn't seem to matter. The boy in front of her waved a hand inches from her face. She blinked and came out of her thoughts.
    "I'm sorry, what did you say?" she asked.
    He smiled slightly, "I wonder if you think this is a dream."
    She blinked again. How had he known. Did he read minds?
    He laughed, "It's written all over your face and the answer is no, this isn't a dream," he stood up from her couch and stretched, "So, Beth, are you going to help me?"
    "This is all very hard to believe. I must be dreaming. handsome men don't just show up on my doorstep wanting help in reality."
    "You don't believe me."
    "I doubt a dream would tell me I'm dreaming."
    He laughed, "I like how you think."
    With mischief lighting up his eyes he reached over and pinched her. She yelped and rubbed her arm.
    "There you can't say you're dreaming anymore."
    She glared at him, "Fine, but that leaves me with thinking I need to call someone to get you some help."
    He smiled, "Just trust your instincts Beth, they'll tell you I'm not lying."
    She looked him over carefully. He looked out of place in her warm homey living room. His dark hair and dark clothes would fit in more with the night outside. His ice colored eyes glitters and his mouth never lost it's slight curve through their whole conversation. She had a feeling he almost always wore that slight smile. Despite his fit build she didn't feel in danger. Just like he said she felt she could trust him.
    "I don't know you're name."
    He grinned, "Roman, my name is Roman."
****
I really like this one and I want to continue it but I also like the way I ended it..... While struggling with indecision I've decided to give you guys this and maybe do a continuation post later.

Rose B.

Oh I forgot to mention that I'm not carefully picking names in these prompts, like I do with other works. So many of them come from characters I've done or people I've known. I'll try not to repeat but it may happen.

"Oil" Prompt

    At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice was a huge house maybe a dog. in a city far away from the place we grew up. But the black liquid wasn't oil, it wasn't the saving grace we thought it was.
    It took us about a week to figure out how to get the liquid out of the hole we found it in. We used a bucket to haul it out and the first thing we noticed is: it didn't shine like oil. We set the bucket down, neither one of us wanting to admit our hopes had been crushed.
    Then it pulsed. It seemed like the world stilled in response. Bugs and birds went silent, the wind stopped as if Mother Nature herself was holding her breath. It pulsed again and again. The only sound left to hear was the beating of our hearts.
    The pulsing matched our hearts rhythm. Screams crawled up our throats but before they emerged from our mouths the black liquid erupted from its hole. It swirled in the air pulling in the part that was in our bucket, to create a mass. We knew then that whatever the black stuff was it wasn't good. Those still left alive argue about it being angry or from space but no one ever says it's good. When it had completed turning itself into something somewhat solid, it awakened.
    Our world was never the same.

Long Time

    It's been a long time dear readers. I'm sorry I just stopped writing Calypso's Rage. To be honest I'm not sure where I want to take the story and my life became very busy. I moved to a new city, had to get a new job, and I've been getting in the groove of reading and writing again. Speaking of, if there are any books you recommend I read, tell me. You can even tell me why you like it but I ask that you at least tell me the title and author.
    Anyway, to get back into the groove of writing I'll start doing writing prompts. I have a book full of them so I thought it would be a good idea to share them with you. Some of them will be short, others long. I'll bold the part the book gives and the rest will be my own.
    Hopefully I can get back into the swing of things and figure out what to do with Calypso's Rage.

Rose B.