This week’s prompts are at the bottom. The work below is practice because I like to practice and practice makes perfect. This week the practice veered a bit to the dark side. They had cookies here though so all was not lost.
Slowly Belle became aware of the loud buzzing from her alarm. She swam doggedly to the surface of her deep sleep and slapped at the thing. She slapped it again, and again, and again until finally it was silent. The heels of her hands gravitated, as though with minds of their own, to her temples; where she pressed hard and somehow hoped to ease the pain in her head. She peeked out from behind an eyelid and immediately slammed it shut again but not before she caught the blessed sight of a long, lovely neck of glass, a Vodka bottle on the bedside table.
She groped for it and drank. Drank until there was nothing left. Disgusted, she dropped the empty bottle and as it slid from her finger tips and clanked on the floor she managed to open her eyes; just barely, and turn away from the window. That was when she realized that she wasn’t alone. She stared at a distinctly masculine back, next to her in the bed.
“Damnit!” she searched her memory, “Who? How?”
She looked around in slight panic but was relieved to see the familiar surroundings of her room. The floral arrangements, torn from the pages of magazines and thumb tacked to the wall above the bookshelf, the pile of dirty clothes in the corner, and the broken closet door that didn’t move.
“Hey,” she nudged the man next to her in the bed. She got no response so she prodded harder with her elbow, “hey!” When there was still no acknowledgement she struggled to sit up.
Realizing that she was naked she pulled the threadbare blanket up to cover her breasts and leaned over the man who lay beside her.
“Wake up,” Belle growled, “you can’t stay here.” She was curious to see who he was so, when he still did not respond she grabbed his shoulder and pulled. He rolled over, onto his back and she saw it was Timothy Barr.
“Oh, Jeeze,” Belle rolled her eyes heavenward as though looking for forgiveness. Timmy was the mail boy from work. She wasn’t sure if he was even twenty-one. She shook him.
“Timmy? Wake up. You gotta go, kid.”
Still no response from Timothy, he simply lay there with his mouth open and his eyes not quite shut. He was still – too still. Belle realized that he wasn’t breathing.
“Ahh shit, not again” she lamented. She swung her legs out and put her feet on the wooden floorboards. The floor was cold, but she made her way to the bathroom where she filled the sink with cold water and dunked her head; rubbed the chill on her face until she began to feel human again. Back in the bedroom, she pulled the blanket off of her dead companion and studied him. Hoping she might be mistaken. Hoping he might just be drunk or still sleeping.
She slowly got dressed and rolled Timothy Barr in what remained of the blanket. He’d have to stay here today till it got dark, but when it got dark she could take him out to the wood. She’d leave him with the others and hope that he wouldn’t be missed too soon.
Belle grabbed her keys and her handbag before she stepped out on the landing and locked the door behind her. At the bottom of the stairs she went south on Haven Street and trudged through the morning drizzle. She stopped in at the corner store and bought a pint of Vodka then continued on another half block to the diner. She wanted eggs and sausage. It was going to be a long day and she was going to have to get another blanket. It was supposed to be even colder tonight.
This weeks prompts are:
- not today, thank you
- don’t know enough about it
Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need.