rhodywriter

[rhodywriter]

Murder at the Olympics

"Turn on the tv, you have to see what's happened at the Olympics!" my sister screams as she bursts through the door. I roll my eyes.

"Katya, all you ever talk about is the Olympics and how hot all the athletes are. I hate to break it to you, but most of those guys are taken. Can we please watch something else?" I beg as she slams into the couch and furiously turns on the tv.

"No sis, this is something else," she says ominously. Instead of flipping directly to the Olympics channel, she switches to the local news station.

"Breaking news tonight, Daniel Macintosh, one of the greatest Olympic divers, was found dead face down in the bathtub earlier this evening. No signs of foul play have been discovered, however police have not ruled this out as a homicide..."

As my brain tunes out the rest of the broadcast, I can't help but think of the irony. An athlete who has trained his entire life to be able to withstand great underwater depths was killed in the shallowest water.

No one knows how or why. No marks were found on the body. No one in the swimmers wing of the Olympic village heard a struggle. No water was spilled outside the tub. It was as if he simply put his head underwater and held it there until he died.

All eyes turn to Matthew Corrine, a fellow diver on the team. Matthew is famous for his temper tantrum over losing starting position to Daniel.

"This is rigged," he'd yelled as he stormed out of the qualifiers. Perhaps he was referring to Daniel's parents generous donation to the team travel fund.

Now the world was speculating that Matthew somehow killed Daniel to earn the top spot and finally have a chance at gold.

I snort at this theory. The guy would have to be pretty stupid to murder his teammate at one of the most publicly televised events of the year. But the Tik Tok theorists are already blowing up my feed with crazy conspiracies.

"That poor man," my sister says as she watched the news feed sadly. She's been obsessed with the men's diving team since the Olympics started this week. Not just for the hot guys, she also enjoys the sport.

A shot of Daniel's parents crying at the press conference lights fire in me.

"Hand me my laptop, sis. I need a flight and I need it now."

[rhodywriter]

Saving Myself

The yellow lines on the highway sped by in a blur, and we flew through the night, and we felt free. But we weren't, and we knew it. We were running away from something, and running away was never the path to freedom. I thought about telling John to turn back. I thought about suggesting we turn ourselves in. That would earn me a slap across the face though.

I never wanted this life. John was supposed to be the one who loved me, cared for me. And in the beginning, he was. All smiles and sweetness. Flowers, for no reason. Small gifts here and there, just because he could.

We met in the grocery store, when his carriage accidentally bumped into mine. I thought for sure he would bark at me, but he surprised me with a sheepish look and an apology. I was even more surprised when he asked me for my number.

Three short months we dated. Things moved fast, but I thought it was a whirlwind romance. I had never connected with someone the way I had with him. We had similar interests, such as when I discovered he too liked the same Indie band, and enjoyed reading on sleepy Sunday afternoons.

It wasn't until we moved in together that life took a dramatic turn.

Men would arrive randomly to the apartment at all hours of the day, going with John into the office to talk in hushed whispers. It started sporadically. Once or twice every couple of days. But then it became every day, multiple times. The men were always lowlifes, dirty and angry looking. Not the type of people I wanted to come into my home. When I dared to ask what they were discussing one day, he backhanded me.

"Don't you ask me about my business again," he growled into my ear as I lay sprawled across the linoleum.

Drugs. That was his business. It shouldn't have surprised me given the way he sank further and further into darkness. John was no longer the sweet man I first bumped into. He became haggard looking, eyes bloodshot and teeth stained. It was clear he was using the same product he was selling.

Multiple times I tried to leave. I had money stashed away from my at-home job, hidden in a sock. When John found it, he beat me on the bathroom floor. Another time I tried to call my sister. John found me with the phone and smashed it to pieces. He stomped on my hands in addition to the phone.

Then last night he shoved me off the bed and told me to pack a bag, waving a gun around.

The same gun he holds now.

I jerk the wheel of the car, sending us screeching into the guardrail. Screams come from John, unearthly sounds that I had never heard from him before. At least if I die, I will be free.

Blackness.

[rhodywriter]

Something Doesn't Add Up

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, the police were being too tight-lipped about the case. Three young girls murdered in one week surely warranted warning the public on a suspect. But no press conference, no wanted posters, nothing. Simply three grieving families left to wonder what the police were really doing to bring them justice.

Second of all, the bodies were staged in different ways. My behind-the-scenes access as a reporter gave me the ability to view certain elements of the investigation. This included crime scene photos. The images were a puzzle looking to be solved. The first girl was left in an alley with coins over her eyes. The second was in a public park with a blindfold. And the third in a car with a sleep mask. The police claimed the covering of the eyes were not connected at all. But surely that could not be true. Eyes are the windows to the soul. Clearly the killer wanted to darken those windows forever. How could the police not see that? Even a junior journalist could have sniffed that out.

Finally, each girl was found with a diamond pendant around their neck. The local jeweler estimated the pendants to be worth $10,000 each. Yet the police couldn't tell why they had them on their bodies. What killer drops $30,000 on their victims? Clearly it was someone who came from money. Or had excellent robbing skills.

The families had been reluctant to speak to me. And frankly, I couldn't blame them. How did they know I was someone they could trust? But with little to no answers and the fear of another death looming, they had no choice. One way or another I would do what the police could not. I would uncover the truth and bring the murderer to justice.

[rhodywriter]

Snowy Dreamer

The wind whispered through the dark, empty trees like a warning in a foreign language. Winter was coming, and with winter came ice, death, decay. Every villager knew winter meant six months of hard living. Every villager except Sofie.

At eight years old, she knew nothing of the realities of the cold times. She saw snow, sledding, skating. Her mother disapproved of her bright eyed optimism.

"The girl needs to learn about the real world," she would chide as Sofie spun about the flakes floating to the ground. "She'll never survive in this world if she lives in fairy-tale land." Sofie's mother had a heart hardened by years of hard living. Day after day she had toiled with chores, keeping the cottage in order despite its meager living.

It was Sofie's father who encouraged her dreaming. He didn't let their poverty and labor darken their spirit. He would tell Sofie tales of the fearful north, and she would sit on his knee with wide eyes as the wind roared outside. Each night the fire would flicker as if it could be molded into the shapes and figures from each story.

The snow piled and piled through the night until it was almost waist high. Sofie squealed and twirled through the cold fairy-like flakes. A snow hare came flopping through the clearing in front of the cottage. As she moved forward, the hare continued. On and on they went, traveling further into the forest. She never looked back.

[rhodywriter]

The End of My World

"How did you know?" I asked, not sure I wanted the answer. I thought I had been careful. I thought she wasn't onto me, but clearly I was wrong. In some ways I was grateful. It had been eating away at my innards, all the sneaking around. She was good, and kind, and never wanted to be a burden on anyone. And I? I was the lying bastard who went and cheated on her.

I couldn't even tell you why. Sweethearts since the ninth grade, she was my whole world for most of our adult lives. Romantic date nights with whispers of endless love, petty fights that had us shaking our heads and laughing when it was all over, hopes of a baby that had been dashed...we had been through it all.

But as the years carried on, romance slowly but surely curled in on itself, like a flower shriveling up as winter blows in. Same "Good morning" and kiss on the cheek heading out to work. Same turkey and provolone on wheat sandwiches with an apple and Gatorade for lunch. Same Law and Order playing on tv every night. Then off to bed to repeat it all again the next day.

Maybe it was too easy. Maybe life had lost its luster in my boredom with the same monotony. Maybe my mistress was meant to color the world again. She was dark haired where my wife was blonde, green eyed where my wife was blue, red lipped and smirking where my wife was pink and soft smiles. When my mistress took me to bed, it was fast and rough, nails scratching, teeth biting, headboard banging loudly against the wall. When it was over my heart would pump wildly from the rush of adrenaline.

I admit it was at first exciting, hiding the late night bar receipts and airing my car out of the exotic perfume. My mistress had a quick wit that kept our conversations going for hours. She could keep my mind occupied for hours, making me laugh with her teasing and stories. More than my wife had in years.

But now, seeing my wife's lower lip quiver and her sapphire eyes swim with tears, I realized easy is just that. Easy. And all that excitement wasn't worth breaking her heart.

[rhodywriter]

[rhodywriter]

Cleopatra and Frankenstein: A Review

Spoilers ahead, obviously.

As an avid reader, I cringe to admit I was drawn to this book by the cover (so cliche, right?). The melancholy eyes and sad look on the woman's face reminded me a little bit of me from when I was growing up.

The title was what also drew me in to check out this book. "Cleopatra and Frankenstein" ...what a mismatched pair. And that's exactly what this book is about: a mismatched couple totally wrong for one another. Cleo, the twentysomething year old student artist with a visa about to expire. Frank, the fortysomething year old advertising whiz with an addiction to alcohol. The two find themselves falling in lust and mistake it for love. Together they enter into marriage and navigate the ups and downs of their relationship.

Right from the beginning, I knew Cleo and Frank were wrong for each other. Granted, I'm sure anyone who reads this book could see this. The age gap alone seemed to be a big factor in their differences (no judgement on age gap relationships, but studies have proven they can be harder to keep together). But I found the difference in personalities between Cleo and Frank to be fascinating.

Cleo is young and beautiful, and these two components seem to make life easier for her in the beginning because older men are drawn to her. Between Frank and Anders (Frank's best friend whom Cleo eventually cheats with), Cleo is taken care of in the beginning of the story because of their devotion to her beauty. But her beauty isn't enough to mask the darkness inside of her. Being as young as she is, Cleo never properly dealt with her mother's suicide. That combined with her dependency on men, she is someone who needs self-discovery and to learn how to love herself. I was glad when she finally gains this in her move to Italy. Her art exhibition piece about her attempted suicide seemed to be her way of gaining closure and freedom from her pain.

Frank also has his own pain that he tries to conceal with his alcoholism. His struggles seem to culminate from the lack of traditional love from his mother, as well as the rejection from his father. Frank uses alcohol as a way to deal with his major emotions as well. Whether he is stressed at work or celebrating his big client, he continues to drink. The problem with Frank's alcoholism is it puts an even bigger strain on his marriage to Cleo. When she begs him to cut back or stop drinking, he lashes out and fights with her. He doesn't want to admit he has a problem.

One of the things I liked most about this book was the change in perspective from person to person. It almost reminded me of the movie Love Actually, how all of the stories are interconnected but in the end all come back together. Frank and Cleo's story is woven with that of their friends and loved ones. Frank's sister Zoe, Cleo's best friend Quentin, Frank's coworker/second love interest Eleanor, all are explored through third person. Their struggles, fears, celebrations, and self-explorations are revealed in each chapter.

Zoe's change was one of my favorites by the end of the story. In the beginning she was a party-hard kid living off her brother with no regard to her life. But as the story continues, she realizes she cares too much for her brother to ask him for more money. Despite her extensive social circle, Zoe can't rely on any of her friends because they are all rich and never have had to struggle with finances. Her desperation to pay for her lifestyle drives her to get a sugar daddy. But she finally finds herself, which seems to be sending her on a better path.

Quentin's story broke my heart in the end. The teacher in me wished I could guide him onto a better path. Quentin being from an old-school family means he has to hide his sexuality and gender identity struggles to keep being financed. But keeping all of these things bottled inside forces him to act out by having sex with random men and eventually becoming addicted to meth. I appreciate the fact that the author had Quentin drop off communication with Cleo because of his addiction. It proved not all endings are happy, and that relationships are much more complicated.

This book was different from my usual genres. But I immensely enjoyed it because it was an honest portrayal of human relationships. It examines what drives people to their actions, what causes them to make decisions in the moment, what makes them want to push or pull people into their lives. It also demonstrates how even when relationships don't work out, you can still discover who you are. I recommend this book to anyone who needs to see the realities of love and loss.

[rhodywriter]

[rhodywriter]

[rhodywriter]

[rhodywriter]

"Why did she feel the need to make everyone, even this waiter, like her? What a thing it must be to be indifferent to indifference." - Coco Mellors

[rhodywriter]

Not From Around Here

It had flown overhead some nights ago. Some of the village had claimed it was nothing more than a shooting star, a speck of the heavens returning to mortal lands. Others believed it was a bad omen of a fallen angel cast out by the Holy Lord. The one thing everyone could agree on was that it certainly was not anything good.

Ariana found the prospect of the unknown entity to be fascinating.

"If it really is a fallen angel, shouldn't we find it and learn the secrets of the heavens?" she asked excitedly at dinner one night.

"Blasphemy!" her father had rumbled, slamming a hand on the table. "Whatever it is, we shall not seek it out. The Holy Lord is not to be trifled with."

It had taken everything in Ariana not to roll her eyes. Father and the village were obsessed with the Holy Lord and the preacher who spoke His laws. Ariana never held any interest. She'd rather read of science and mathematics, of theories around evolution and what lay in the sky above. It was why the streaks in the sky fascinated her.

No one else in the village shared her thirst for knowledge. Always the outsider, the stranger.

More whispers echoed across the village square in the coming days. More bolts of light had been spotted streaking through the midnight.

"What could it mean?" they whispered, panicked. "Why is this happening?"

Ariana ignored them, returning her borrowed books to the book shop. The unwilling owner of the shop didn't even look at her as she sat her stack on the counter.

CRASH! A massive boom, like a million thunder crashes rumbling across the sky, shook the ground. Windows rattled, goods fell to the floor, screams of terror echoed outside.

Ariana stumbled outside, pushing past panicked men and women. Some were knelt on the ground, preying to the Holy Lord for an explanation and protection. Off in the distance, thick black smoke billowed above the tree line.

Maybe she was crazy after all. Maybe Father and the village were right to think her need for knowledge would get her into trouble. But Ariana shoved those thoughts aside and dove into the trees circling the village.

Branches scratched and pricked at her skin as she clawed her way through the undergrowth. An acrid smell had her eyes stinging. Despite that and the incessant coughing from the thick vapors, she pushed through.

A sudden break in the trees caused Ariana to stumble. Sharp rocks embedded themselves in her palms as she reached out to catch herself. Little fires burned and set a red haze everywhere. In the middle of the clearing, an enormous hunk of metal sat crashed in the dirt. Half of it was embedded in the Earth. The other half rose up as tall as the tallest oaks.

Ariana's breath hitched as a panel folded down from the front. Small lanterns glittered along the edges of the panel.

Standing at the top of the platform was the tallest woman Ariana had ever seen. Moonlight hair flowed in waves down to her waist. The woman was donned in a sleek silver dress that clung to her lithe form. With each step, the material shimmered and shone like the metal of the craft behind her.

Ariana knew she should be terrified. This stranger looked nothing like anyone she had ever seen, and had fallen from the sky. She could be a soldier of Satan, or an evil beast disguised as a beauty. But Ariana felt no fear. It was as though the presence of the strange woman created a calming aura around her.

The strange being slowly stepped down the rampway. Her movements were sleek, like a gazelle. Ariana shifted, trying to see better, and a twig snapped. The woman paused for a moment, gaze shifting until it found Ariana. Then she continued forward.

It could have been moments, days, weeks, years, eons, Ariana didn't know. Everything had been pinpointed to this inhumanly beautiful woman. Towering over her, long limber limbs and almost translucent skin filled Ariana's vision.

But it was the eyes that sucked her in. Eyes with no pupils, no iris, nothing but inky blackness. A blackness that held the moon, the stars, and the entirety of the universe.

A soft smile crossed the alien's lips. She touched a hand to Ariana's forehead. Then everything went black.

[rhodywriter]

[rhodywriter]

Dreams are extremely important. You can’t do it unless you imagine it.

[rhodywriter]

“What is a wedding, Cleo wondered, if not a private dream made public, a fantasy suspended between two worlds like a cat’s cradle?” - Coco Mellors

[rhodywriter]

[rhodywriter]