Rose

 The sky was a deep, swirling red, like blood boiling in a cauldron. It seemed to drip down onto the world below, staining everything it touched with an ominous hue. Even the air felt heavy and oppressive, as if a great weight were pressing down upon the land, waiting for the moment to crush everything beneath it. The wind picked up, howling through the trees and across the fields, rustling leaves and raising dust clouds that danced and swirled like ghosts in the twilight. The sun hung low in the sky, a burning ember of orange and red, casting long, sinister shadows across the land. A flock of crows took flight from a nearby tree, their raucous cries cutting through the air like knives. The world around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

It was in this eerie, expectant silence that Rose awoke. She stretched languidly, arching her back and cracking her neck, before sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The air in the small, windowless room was stuffy and close, and she sighed, wishing for a breath of fresh air. She glanced around, taking in the few meager possessions she owned: a threadbare blanket, a worn wooden chair, a small table, and a candle stuck in an empty wine bottle. The candle flickered weakly, throwing dancing shadows on the rough stone walls.

Outside, the sky continued to darken, the red deepening to a menacing black. Rose rose from her makeshift bed and crossed the room to the single, tiny window. She pushed it open, letting in a cool, crisp breeze that made her shiver. The air smelled like rain and smoke, a strange and unsettling combination. She leaned her elbows on the windowsill, gazing out at the world beyond the walls of her home, wondering what the night might hold.