Smoke in the Air 7

 Smoke in the Air

7

    In the corner of my vision I see Lord Hurston roll his eyes and Mr. Ethan looks towards the windows. "I was sitting next to her, and I felt something hit the table in the dark. I was concerned she might have hurt herself, but when we came out of the tunnel, she was just..." She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, but I don't see any tears nor does the cloth look wet.

    Mr. Ethan clears his throat, "I keep the books for Madam Losster and Lord Hurston. This trip is a good chance to keep them up to date, so I join whenever I can. I was seated between Hurston and Ms. Grace. I was smoking and talking finances with Lord Hurston when we entered the tunnel. My back was madam, so I didn't see the body until Ms. Grace screamed."

    Hannah pats Ms. Grace's back, "Madam's health has been getting worse, and since I'm a trained nurse, I've been accompanying her on longer trips. I was standing behind the Madam when we entered the tunnel. I heard something hit the table and reached out for the Madam, but I couldn't find her. I thought her health had acted up and was going to grab my bag once we were out of the tunnel. But when I saw her face down on the table, I took her pulse and found she was dead."

    I nod, "What kind of person was Madam Losster?" There is a weighty pause, and I raise my eyebrow, "Not the nicest lady then?"

    Hannah sighs, "The Madam could be a difficult person when her temper snapped. It's not rare to see her throw items when she gets upset, many staff have moved on because they couldn't handle it."

    Mr. Ethan nods, "She's never thrown anything at me but we've had many arguments over the finances. If she doesn't like how work is being done she'll tell you right there even if it's in public."

    Lord Hurston puts an unlit pipe in his mouth, "It's been bad for business, word gets around and people talk. I've gotten complaints from customers and employees, and I'm usually the one to break up the arguments between the Madam and Mr. Ethan."

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Smoke in the Air 6

I remembered this time to post in the first week of the month. Go me. November and December are difficult months for me, hopefully you all are doing better than I am.

-Rose B.

Smoke in the Air

6

    I tip my hat to the staff and move to the table Madam Losster rests on. Chips, cards, and drinks are still on the table. I lift the cloth a little and see I was right; it is the woman I ran into before. She's paler, and there's a slight tint of blue to her lips. I put the sheet down and go to the only other occupied table.

    "Excuse me, I'm Jacob Williams and this is my assistant," I gesture to the woman following me and gives a small bow, "I'm offering my assistance to help this terrible situation along. Could you tell me what happened and your connection to the deceased."

    They look at each other, then Lord Hurston speaks, "Are you the Detective Williams that was in the paper a couple months ago?"

    I nod and there is a brief flash of panic across their faces. It's replaced by that odd calmness and Mr. Ethan coughs before speaking, "I guess we were lucky a trustworthy detective was on this train."

    I smile slightly, "I'm just glad I can help, if you don't mind I would like to get started I don't want to take up more of your time than necessary."

     Lord Hurston sits back in his chair, "Very well, I'm Lord Alexander Hurston. I was business partners with the Madam's late husband. She took over after his death, and we regularly take this trip to discuss business and play cards with friends. The dealer usually doesn't have a hand going when we hit the tunnel, so we were having a small break as the tunnel approached. I was sitting farthest from Madam Losster and was chatting with Mr. Ethan. When we came out of the tunnel, she was dead."

    Ms. Grace grabs a glass on the table with a shaky hand and drinks some of the liquid. It doesn't smell, so I assume it's water. "I was to be married to Madam Losster's son, but he died in the war. She had health problems after his death, and even though I couldn't be married into the family anymore, I continued to assist her. She was slowly teaching me about the business, I think she brought me on this trip to announce I was going to take over for her." 

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Smoke in the Air 5

 Smoke in the Air

5

    The conductor glances at the people in the back, "Alright. What do you need?"

    I smile, "I don't want to make any demands without a full understanding of the situation."

    The conductor nods and shoos away the boy before speaking, "Four guests reserved the lounge car until we arrived at Cheston. These two were serving them."

    The staff gave a slight bow. One is an older gentleman with gray hair, and the other looks to be barely of age. The older one picks up the explanation, "These guests regularly reserve this car to play cards without distraction. I've been a dealer for them several times in the past, and they requested me to deal for them again." he gestures to the youth, "He mixed and served drinks with the help of the lady's maid."

    "And you were the only ones in the car?"

    They nod, and the older gentleman continues, "I was going to deal a new hand after we passed through the tunnel, but once we emerged, Madam Losster was slumped over the table. Ms. Grace screamed, and we called for the conductor."

    I turned to the youth, "And you?"

    "I-I was m-making ano-another drink for L-Lord Hurston. I-I didn't know any-anything was wrong un-until Ms. Grace sc-screamed."

    I look at the people in the back, "Who is who?"

    The conductor clears his throat, "Ms Grace is the one in the fox fur. Madam Losser brought the maid; her name is Hannah. Lord Hurston is the bigger gentleman with the cane. Mr. Ethan is the dapper young man." 

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Rings

I've already posted this month, but I saw an ad for a smart ring and it reminded me of this piece that I did before. So I thought I would share since it's a short one.

-Rose B.

Rings

    I find David packing in out bedroom. Even though his ring should still tell him I'm right here, he tucks more shirts in the suitcase. I hold my hand to my chest but my ring remains cold to the touch. I didn't know why I expected anything different, for months now it may as well have been a piece of metal. David ignores the pulses of his ring, and closes the suitcase.

    "Davey?"

    He turns to me but his eyes remain cold, "What is it?"

    I clutch my hands tighter wishing some warmth would come through, "Please, can't we talk about this?"

    He grabs the suitcase from the bed and pushes past me, "We've already talked about this."

    I follow him into the hallway, "But Dav--"

    He doesn't even pause, "Alice. You can't stop me from leaving."

    "Do you feel nothing for me anymore?"

    He stops and puts the suitcase down in front of the door, "Your ring should answer that for you."

    "How can you be so cruel!? Can't you feel my pain!?"

    He sighs, "Can we continue this later?"

    He picks up his suitcase and walks out the front door. It gives a hard thunk as it closes, giving a sense of finality despite his words. Through the window I can see him get into a sleek convertible. He kisses the woman in the driver's seat and my ring changes from metal to warmth.

    As the car drives away, I feel him getting father away and the warmth fading. The ring turns back to ordinary metal and I collapse in front of the door. I clutch my right hand as tears drip on to my dress.

Smoke in the Air 4

 Smoke in the Air

4

    His eyes widen, "Really? The one who solved the Crosshair murder?" I nod, and he smiles, "Then please come with me to the conductor."

   We follow him out of the compartment and move through the train cars.

    "Relax Detective, you can just pretend I'm not here," She murmurs, "After all, I can't give you information until you agree to our deal." We reach the lounge car where a big man stands at the door. I straighten my suit before we move into the car. A variation of a scene I've seen hundreds of times greets me.

    Everything appears to be in order except for one table that has a cloth covering the body. I ignore it for the moment and look at a table in the back where four people sit. Two gentlemen, one lady, and the maid I saw earlier, they all look rather calm, a little unusual after being around a corpse. The only emotion I can discern is confusion at my appearance. The lady is younger than the one I saw the maid accompanying before, which means the body is most likely the older lady from before.

    Next to the bar stands the conductor and a couple of staff. The conductor raises an eyebrow as we walk over, "I thought I sent you to explain things to passengers, not bring some to me."

    The boy flinches, "They said they could help."

    I can almost see the vein bulge in the conductor's forehead and step forward before he starts yelling, "I'm Detective Williams. There are some procedures that can't be helped until the Cheston police get here but I can at least speed things along."

    The conductor looks me over and looks at the woman behind me, "And she is?"

    She steps forward and I notice a notebook in her hand, "Ms. Fumée. I'll be acting as an assistant for the detective." 

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Smoke in the Air 3

I might have to get a new computer soon. My current one is freaking out a lot, but I don't want a new one yet.....

             -Rose B.

Smoke in the Air

3

    She puts the cigarette holder to her lips and takes a draw. Her cheeks sink in as if the muscle doesn't exist, showing the bone structure of her jaw through translucent skin. The cabin goes black as we enter a tunnel. I hear her exhale and can feel the smoke hit my face. "Who else can I be but the one you see every day? I've never seen a mortal so involved with me and still breathing. If I didn't know better I would think you were one of my psychopomps."

    My brain doesn't want to accept it but people flash in my head old, young, male, female all wearing her face. How many times had I seen her while working or been around when I was dragged into a murder? My skin crawls as the knowledge sinks in, but I can't bring myself to put a name to her face. There's a flash of light as the train exits the tunnel and pulls me out of my thoughts.

    The train shrieks and comes to a halt. She continues as if nothing happened, "Now then, I can help you but I require something in return."

    "I don't need your help."

    She raises an eyebrow, "Maybe, but the information I can provide will be wholly true and won't be found anywhere else. Of course information provided by Death can't be used in court but at least it will prevent you from hanging an innocent man again." She looks at the door, "You can give me your answer after you see the situation."

    There's a knock at the door and I look up to see who is calling, "Yes?"

    A boy opens the door, "I'm sorry for the sudden stop, but we've had an incident. I've come to tell you that we'll be stopped here for some time."

    "That is unfortunate," Her voice is softer and I look over to see her in sensible clothes with a hat pinned to her head. The cigarette and it's holder is gone, although the smoke remains. "But maybe we can be of assistance. This is Detective Williams." 

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Smoke in the Air 2

 Smoke in the Air

2

    I jump at her voice and remind myself I'm not at the pictures. Then her words hit me, "Excuse me?"

    She waves a gloved hand, "Calm down. This will be a long trip, and it will be easier if you are more comfortable."

    I sit down opposite her, "A long trip? It's only a couple hours to Cheston."

    She smiles, and it sends chills up my spine, "Maybe on a different trip but not this one, Mr. Williams."

    It feels like the temperature in the room drops by a few degrees, "How..." The face of my old boss flashes in my mind, "Did the lieutenant send you?"

    She chuckles, a terrifying raspy sound, "No, Detective, I'm here because you interest me."

    I frown, "I'm not a detective anymore."

    "You may have been fired, but you can't stop being what you are." She cocks her head as if listening to something, "It should happen soon. Once we leave the tunnel, your skills will be needed."

    "You speak as if someone will be murdered."

    She narrows her eyes, "That's cheating, Mr. Williams, but a death will occur, Just like they always do around you and of course you'll need to solve the mystery."

    "Who are you?" 

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Smoke in the Air 1

This is one of my favorite pieces that I've written recently. I don't usually write mysteries because I end up creating something unsolvable. This wasn't supposed to be a mystery at all, I just wanted to writing something with this female character that has been in my head for a while. But I knew writing from her POV would be really boring and thus the detective came to be. I really like how it ended up and the dynamic between the two is really interesting. I would love to do a series with them but I'm not sure my mystery skills are up to par yet...

                 -Rose B. 

Smoke in the Air

1

    I look at the number above the compartment doors wishing they would match the one on my ticket so I could sit down. The train jolts as it hits an uneven track, and I bump into a high society lady. She turns her nose up at me and frowns.

    "My apologies, madam," I say, bowing my head.

    "Be glad these are my traveling clothes, otherwise you'd be paying for it to be cleaned," she scoffs before continuing past me. Her lady's maid gives me a quick curtsy before scurrying after her.

    I sigh and look down at the nine of my ticket I thought the upper crust had whole train cars to themselves, so they didn't have to mingle with the working class. I didn't ask questions when Thomas gave me the ticket, but maybe I should have. I continue looking at numbers praying there won't be someone inside I have to mind my manners around.

    I look down at my ticket in confirmation. It shimmers in the light coming through the windows, and frown at the four. I rub my eyes, I swear it said nine before. I look at the ticket again but it still says four. This whole situation must have made me more tired than I realized. Finally, I find it; it's the last one in the car. I tense up as I enter the compartment as there is a woman already there. She looks familiar but I don't know a woman that beautiful. Maybe I saw her on screen, She does look like she came straight out of a moving picture with her black hair, white skin, and a dress colored in gray tones. She seems to be wearing the latest fashion that is all the rage among ladies, but there's something not quite right about it. If Dorthy were here, she would know immediately, but she was going to have to find another employer to buy those fashion magazines. A cigarette holder is perched in the lady's hand, smoke curls around her, and she exhales more. I can't remember the last time I've been to the pictures and I feel like I've seen her more recently than that.

    "Finally, now things can begin."

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Red Roses Final

With the way things worked out this part is super small. I suppose I could have made the previous one smaller to allow this one to have more words but that would have cut it in a odd place. I played with the formatting of what was the final paragraph, because why not.

         -Rose B.

Red Roses

final

    Now, I'm here under the thriving roses, watching you plant pansies in the new girl. So she was just fertilizer to you after all. I can't feel her yet like I feel the others. They have become too consumed by the flowers to remember much at all, but I wonder how much she'll remember.

    Will anyone miss her like they miss me? You played the role of a grieving boyfriend well.

    Did you find it ironic when your sister consoled you next to my roses?

    Were some of your sobs full of laughter when she promised to find me?

    I wonder...did you actually care for me?

          What were the lies?

                    How much is true?

    You sit next to my roses on moon lit nights but you never say a word.

    You speak to me during the day so why not at night?

   

Is there something that holds your tongue?

Do you realize...

I can sill hear you?

 

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Roses are Red 6

Roses are Red

6

    I laughed and found a vase, "I don't plan on using flowers as a garnish but if I ever do I'll be sure to keep them separate."

    In the spring I helped you plant Annuals and replace the dead Perennials. You did the actual planting while I watered the new plants. It took us a couple weeks but when we were done two-thirds of your backyard was covered in green plants. As we surveyed our work I noticed a patch of dirt near the house.

    I pointed at it, "What are we going to put there?"

    You ran your hand through your hair, "Not sure, flowers I've tried in the past have had a hard time."

    "What about roses? There's not a single rose in your garden."

    You thought about it and agreed. I help you order the roses and you told me that you would prepare a special fertilizer to help them. I was curious but you just winked at me and said I'd have to wait until the roses arrived.

    I enjoyed that time of sitting in your garden, feeling the sun on my skin watching you take care of the flowers. You fit in with the garden just like you had in Starbucks. The flowers seemed to shine for you and you would smile at them. The sunlight made you glow with life, sometimes out of the corner of my eye it seemed like you had a halo. In those moments you really looked like a fallen angel. I once asked you how you got the flowers to grow so well and you smiled at one of the daisies in front of you and said, "Because I talk to them."

    That smile was different from the ones you gave to me, there was more of an edge to it, a darkness. I assumed it was bitterness and sorrow, so I left it alone. That smile is the only one I see now. Back then I thought you were smiling at the flowers, but you weren't were you. You were smiling at what was underneath.

    The day the roses came it was warm and sunny. I drove over to your house as soon as I could. You laughed at my excitement and called me adorable. The truck was bigger than I expected as were the rose bushes. I watched as they were unloaded and you directed the workers where to leave the plants. I wanted to plant them right away but you said it would be easier after it had cooled off a little. We went inside and you made some tea your mother had given you. The last thing I remember is the tea tasted more bitter than I remembered.

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Foreteller

Extra post for my birthday month. It's longer than my usual posts but I didn't want to do more than one extra post this month.

             -Rose B.

Foreteller

    The first one is never easy, but there is always one that never leaves you. At the time it may seem no different than any other, but no matter how many songs you'll sing the memory of it will never fade. It will come to you in the most mundane moments, keep you up at night, and make you wonder if you are going insane. Even as I lay here barely breathing on my own, I still see it as if it happened only moments ago...

    The first time I saw him is the image that haunts me the most. Summer was beginning it counterattack against winter. Patches of grass triumphed over the snow's reign. The sky shifted between gray clouds and the blue sky. He was at a table with friends surrounded by the sun's warmth, and when he laughed the sunlight was almost blinding. I was so startled by his smile I almost dropped my books into the dirty melting snow. The skin on his arm was already gray. Every time he moved the Ash fell from him and vanished before reaching the ground. I gave a moment to mourn before continuing on my way.

    Honestly, in that first interaction, he was like any other stranger. I didn't have a sense of foreboding about singing for him. I only spoke a handful of words to him and I don't even remember his name. I know child, it's odd that he is the one that sticks with me. I've spent many hours trying to figure out why but I've never reached an answer.

I didn't see him again until winter was in its final struggle. Small pockets of snow only existed in the coldest of shadows where the heat of the clear sky couldn't reach. I bumped into him as he was coming out of a building. the Ash had reached his neck, almost his whole arm looked like peeling paint. I jumped into the shade, trying not to show anything on my face.

    He smiled, "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

    "It's alright," I murmured, my voice little more than a whisper. He didn't reply and maybe he didn't hear me. On my hand, Ash sunk into my skin looking for the similar darkness in me. My eyes followed his carefree back until he turned a corner and I knew I couldn't avoid this any longer.

    I saw him more frequently after that, the Ash slowly increasing and smoke pouring from the cracks. I wondered if some part of him knew what was coming. Was his skin rough where the Ash had claimed him? Did his joints creak, bones ache, and muscles spasm? Could he feel pieces of him falling away like old memories? I imagined his smile looking forced as summer progressed but none of his friends seemed to worry or even notice.

    Songs are never abrupt, spur of the moment things. The urge always occurs before. You might be able to ignore it for a time but it won't go away. It will only crescendo as the song does. It will feel like it's tearing your throat apart but if you sing to early you won't be able to stop until it's over...

    The urge started in the height of summer's rule when the sun beat down, and everything struggled under the heat. Most of his body was covered in Ash but his smile was just as bright. I told myself it wasn't time yet and swallowed the song. The urge grew into a need and I withdrew from conversations, afraid that if I opened my mouth the song would spill out in place of my words. In these moments my throat is so dry it feels like it's sticking together. I hear the melody in my sleep and catch myself humming the haunting tune.

    You won't miss the timing to sing, the song won't let you. The song resides in us but it does not belong to us. You will never forget it, but even if you try to sing it any other time you won't be able to. We are just the messengers and when it is time the song will flow like spring water.

    It was a day of dark skies, threatening rain when it arrived. I watched from the roof as he chatted with friends. His stride unhindered, unburdened, even though he was covered in smoke and I wondered how he hadn't fallen apart from the Ash alone. Thunder rolled through the air obscuring the sound of the truck. In the next breath, the song burst from my lungs as he was dragged under. The notes started soft but grew with the screams. Rain cooled the air as it waltzed to the shifting melody. Unnoticed by the commotion below, the slow refrain filled up the empty places. Carried on by the sirens it pierced the hearts of all those who heard it. Skin prickled and hair stood on end as the chill settled in their bones.

Roses are Red 5

Roses are Red

5

    On Thanksgiving you met Mama and Papa. Mama was overjoyed, she hugged us several times and couldn't stop talking about how good we looked together and we were obviously meant to be. Papa peppered you with random questions throughout dinner, but he calmed down a bit once he discovered you were a law student. It was obvious mam loved you as she would use anything as an excuse to talk more with you. Papa slowly warmed up but seemed content by the time we left. On the sidewalk you said my family was lovely and I wondered if you really thought that. Now I think you were telling the truth as you still see my mother on occasion.

    Some time before December I met your sister, when she suddenly stopped by to visit you. She was just as energetic as I imagined and just like you warned she called you nothing but Lucy. When you ran out to grab lunch I asked her for the story behind your nickname. She smiled and said there wasn't much to tell. She thought you were a huge jerk as a teenager and would secretly call you Lucifer. You made her so mad one day that she almost blurred it out with your parents in the room. She quickly shortened it to Lucy and it caught on. You came back and quietly added that now everytime she calls you it, it gives her a good laugh.

    I met your mother at Christmas. She was sweet woman and it was obvious you loved her. She loved the homemade fudge I brought anad asked me for the recipe. Sometimes I wonder if she makes it, and if it reminds you of me or if you've forgotten I was the one who introduced it to your family.

    New years we spent together. I made food and you brought roses and lilies. I told you it reminded me of the cheesy poem. You laughed and almost sang to me,

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Lilies are pure

And I love you

I don't think I was ever happier in my life then in that moment. Life seemed perfect and the future seemed laid out before me.

    Valentine's Day you brought me a bouquet of snap dragons and two flowers I didn't recognize. One was clusters of small purple pink flowers the other were fluffy looking light pink flowers.

    "What are these?" I asked.

    You smiled and pointed at the light pink flowers, "These are Begonias, I've heard that sometimes they are used for garnish on food." You switched to the clusters, "these are Rhododendron. They are slightly poisonous so don't eat them."

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Roses are Red 4

Roses are Red

4

    "Does your sister help out with the flower shop too?"

    "When she can, She's a cop so it's harder for her to drop everything and come help. What about you, do you have any siblings?"

    "No it's just me and my parents, they wanted more kids but, as mom likes to day, it just wasn't in the cards for them."

    We reached the door of the dessert shop and you opened the door for me. The shop was surprisingly empty, besides the two employees there was only two other customers. We ordered cookies and a slice of cake and picked a table. Once we were situated you started the conversation again. "You know I do gardening but what do you like to do in your free time?"

    "I read books or watch whatever is on tv. What do you do in the winter when there are no plants to take care of?"

    "I'm sad to say I read law books and sleep."

    I laughed, "So you must really want to practice law."

    You smile at me, "More like I just want to be done with school. Why did you choose business?"

    "It was mostly to help my parents but they needed me before I completed the degree."

    The night grew longer as we talked. I don't remember most of the conversation topics, the things I learned about you in the beginning now seem like things i always knew. I do remember on the small porch of my town-home you told me you found me interesting and wanted to get to know me better. It seemed like a dream to me, I fully expected to wake up the next day to find me life had returned to normal. It wasn't a dream, though now sometimes I wish you had been. We were too busy to see each other often but we talked through messages and phone calls. When we had time we would see movies or visit local restaurants. You gave gardening tips and I showed you how to cook.

    The first time I visited your house, I was amazed at how clean everything was. You promised it was because you weren't here enough to get it dirty. On your mantle I noticed only the photos of your dad were older. You explained that your dad had died of cancer a couple years ago, leaving your mom to take care of the flower shop. You said the first year was especially tough but your mom has been doing better recently. I didn't really know what to say as the only death I had experienced was that of a pet cat. The darkness in your eyes seemed to deep and old for me to traverse lightly, so I just stood next to you and looked at the photos. We eventually moved onto other topics but that was the first time I noticed that you hide things behind your smile.

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