Rachel Roe Writing

  Complete and utter darkness surrounded me. The air smelled damp and musty. I could hear the sound of water dripping down the walls. It was pooling on the floor next to me in a stagnant puddle.  I pulled fruitlessly on the chains that held my wrists above my head. The metal cuffs bit into my wrist but did not give an inch. After a few more angry pulls, I gave up.  Hanging my head in defeat, I sent a silent prayer to whoever or whatever was listening.  “Don’t pray. Whatever the fuck you do, do not pray, because the ones that are listening, you do not want them to answer.” said a gruff voice from the darkness.  I yelped in surprise, realizing for the first time that I had no idea who or what was in the darkness.  “Wh-who is listening?” I stuttered.  All I heard in response was a brief grunt.  I leaned back against the wall and tried to remember how I had gotten here. The last thing I remembered was turning the key in my apartment door, then a shoot...

A loud thud reverberates next to my ear as the blade of the knife sinks into the high back of my chair. I calmly take another bite of my steak, perfectly prepared as always. I do need to remember to compliment my chef, Gustavo. He always makes the most delectable meals for me.  “How was your day darling? You look thirsty. Shall I pour you another glass?” my dear Annalise asks me. Her voice is sickeningly sweet as she rises from the table.  “Oh, it was alright. Nothing too exciting. Though that merger I was telling you about is looking promising.” I reply as I hand her my glass to refill. “How was yours?” “I had a wonderful day my dear,” she coos in my ear as she hands me a glass of my favorite whiskey. “And it’s only getting better now that you’re home.” I smile at her and take a long draw of the amber liquid. Relishing the burn as it travels down my throat and settles in my belly. I can see her watching me intently, though she’s pretending not to. I love the way she stares at...

I sat my mug gently on the desk, watching the steam rise from my freshly made cup of tea. Marcus was so sweet to have made me a whole pot of my favorite tea before work. As I settled into my chair and began proofreading the latest novel to come across my desk, Willow hopped into my lap. Scratching her behind the ears I quickly became absorbed in my work. As I absentmindedly went to take a sip of my tea, the cat suddenly jumped up and knocked the mug out of my hand.  “Willow!” I exclaimed as I nudged her to the floor.  I sighed deeply, picked up the mug, and went to the kitchen to fetch some more. As I approached the counter where the teapot had been resting, I could see it had spilled all over the counter and kitchen floor.  “I guess I wasn’t meant to have tea today” I lament to the likely culprit of tea destruction.  I opt instead to make myself a pot of coffee. As I wait for it to brew, I begin to clean up the spilled tea, all the while Willow winds around my feet....

  The fire caught quickly. It spread up the bundles of sticks and was soon dancing around her toes. The bindings held her arms tight behind her back. She flexed her wrists, testing for any weaknesses she could exploit. The men who dragged her up here had done their duty by these knots.  As the flames rose higher and higher she looked out into the sneering crowd around her. The faces of those she had known all her life looking at her with hatred, disgust, and no small amount of fear. They hurled insults like knives to her chest.  “Daughter of the Devil!” the crowd jeered.  She took a deep breath and tried again unsuccessfully to release the ropes that held her tight to the stake. The smoke that began to fill her lungs burned her throat as if she was swallowing the flames that surrounded her.  She could hear many people shouting, “Burn! Burn! Burn!” Her skirts were beginning to singe as the flames grew ever higher. Filling the air with an acrid smoke, her tattered...