A Rose Williams
Bio
This human decided that she wants to be heard a little louder.
Stories (32/0)
The Sales Associate
Corrinne stirred, waking up to her alarm one eye at a time, reaching to stop the demanding green light flashing on her clock. She sat at the edge of her bed, pulling her mind from dreams to reality and the demands of her Saturday. In the restroom, as she looked in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose, squinting to try and find a flicker of the fire at the prospect of the possibilities of a new day. She decided not to waste time on such things and pulled her hair into a tight, sensible ponytail and pulled her itchy pantsuit from the wardrobe along with the company logo t-shirt. She threw a forgettable frozen lunch into her bag and pulled turkey from the freezer to thaw, embarrassed that she had once considered being a chef, and headed for the car.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Humans
The Lead Man's Journal
The Lead Man’s Journal 5/14/22 New Orleans, Louisiana Congratulations little black Moleskine notebook - you just became the landing strip of the thoughts nobody else will hear, but must be expressed. Ever since I blacked out after the Mardi Gras concert two months ago, I’ve been poked and prodded by doctors, only for them to say it was all in my head. They told me to write, so I’m writing. Derrick, my manager is so obsessed with getting me right only because his job depends on me. Otherwise, I think he’d throw me to the wolves and get a brand new model. He still may. I’m the front man, so if I go, the band would have to have a complete overhaul. Rebranding, new merchandise, maybe even a new name. You think the bet’s worth the hand? Honestly, when I landed this gig, it was like winning the lottery to me. Now I feel like I’ve traded my life for a blur of an existence and a miser who’s in charge of my piggy bank.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Beat
Marked
Marked Jared stood smuggly on the platform at the doctor’s window. This was his favorite part - watching his marks notice their missing articles and his waving it as they are whisked to the next stop. He waited for the doctor to wake when they announced the stop for the second time...nothing. If he didn’t wake up soon, Jared would miss his chance. A minute later, the last call was announced and the doctor lay with his head pressed against the window, mouth open and eyes shut. Jared jumped back onto the train just as the doors were closing. He walked to the seat and kicked his foot as he pretended to sit - nothing. The train jerked violently and his mark fell over, lifeless. It was then that Jared noticed the small blushed area under the doctor’s right ear. “Tickets!” yelled the conductor as he walked down the aisle. Jared leaned over to see the puncture wound and sat back abruptly. This man wasn’t asleep - he was dead. “Tickets!” Not just dead - he was killed….murdered…..offed….. There was a murderer on this train and whoever it was murdered his mark. In all his years of lifting, Jared had never come across anything like this. The job was simple - get close, lift, gloat and leave. It kept him eating, clothed and sheltered for 4 years. This, however, was a completely different level of illegal. “Tickets!” He would have to make a run for it. He turned to dash to the restroom and stood eye to eye with the conductor. “Your ticket, sir.” Thinking quickly, he pulled the wallet and the little black Moleskine notebook he lifted from his pocket and opened them to reveal his mark’s ticket. “Dr. Worley?” Jared answered in the affirmative. “You seem a little young to be a doctor.” The conductor looked at him sideways. “I get that all the time. Sometimes it gets me out of meetings!” His laugh seemed too contrived, even for him, but he took back the ticket and stuffed it into the notebook and put it and the wallet in his pocket. The conductor’s eyes followed. He then asked about the “sleepy-head”. “My assistant - first time on a business trip and he can’t hack it. I may have to fire him. If it's all the same to you, I”ll not fish for his ticket in his pants pocket while he sleeps - seems suspiciously inappropriate.” The conductor gave an unsure nod but proceeded down the aisle.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Criminal
Sultana
Sultana Kimi sat in the laundromat and turned her eyes away from the television screen that interrupted their regularly scheduled programming to announce the death of a prominent Arabian ruler. She didn’t want to be bothered with other peoples’ grief. She had plenty of her own at the ripe age of 31. LIfe just seemed to happen to her - no rhyme or reason, just disappointment and the stubbornness to keep going until it was over. She counted the change from the pocket of her worn jeans once again, debating whether to use the dryer or let the clothes air dry by hanging around the room she rented at the motel. $65 a night and she was already behind payments by 8 weeks. The people there were kind and understanding, but she knew business people don’t stay like that for long. This was not her first motel. It felt like a luxury to even have her clothes clean. Then again, what good would $1.75 do except a meal that would last only one day? How long can someone live on a cheeseburger and fries, minus the soda? She was pulled from her thoughts as someone tugged on her jacket. “ ‘Scuse me, miss.” A girl, about 17 years old managed to claim the seat next to her without her notice. “Can you spare some change? I ain’t eat since 2 days ago.” The girl’s brown eyes looked tired and void of hope - judged way too many times to try to explain anymore, rejected way too much to expect anything good, yet, she tried again. Kimi could almost see her reflection in them. Seems the decision was made for her. The girl walked away and wet clothes were packed into plastic bags to be hung around the motel room 2 blocks away.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Humans
Sultana
Kimi sat in the laundromat and turned her eyes away from the television screen that interrupted their regularly scheduled programming to announce the death of a prominent Arabian ruler. She didn’t want to be bothered with other peoples’ grief. She had plenty of her own at the ripe age of 31. LIfe just seemed to happen to her - no rhyme or reason, just disappointment and the stubbornness to keep going until it was over. She counted the change from the pocket of her worn jeans once again, debating whether to use the dryer or let the clothes air dry by hanging around the room she rented at the motel. $65 a night and she was already behind payments by 8 weeks. The people there were kind and understanding, but she knew business people don’t stay like that for long. This was not her first motel. It felt like a luxury to even have her clothes clean. Then again, what good would $1.75 do except a meal that would last only one day? How long can someone live on a cheeseburger and fries, minus the soda? She was pulled from her thoughts as someone tugged on her jacket. “ ‘Scuse me, miss.” A girl, about 17 years old managed to claim the seat next to her without her notice. “Can you spare some change? I ain’t eat since 2 days ago.” The girl’s brown eyes looked tired and void of hope - judged way too many times to try to explain anymore, rejected way too much to expect anything good, yet, she tried again. Kimi could almost see her reflection in them. Seems the decision was made for her. The girl walked away and wet clothes were packed into plastic bags to be hung around the motel room 2 blocks away.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Humans
Gifts Worth Giving
Gifts Worth Giving There’s something about the look on someone’s face when they have received a gift that really hits home. Their eyes go bright and maybe even a bit teary. They take in one of those cleansing breaths, like they have been waiting to inhale all their lives. It takes a moment for them to come out of their euphoria enough to reacquaint themselves with words. When they try to speak, it may come out in a number of different ways, which eventually can be translated as the never-enough “thank you”. This is usually followed up with questions like “how did you know?” and “where did you find something like this?”.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Families
A Thankful Perspective
A Thankful Perspective Once upon a time, when I was young, my parents created an environment of security and I was carefree. My church family created an environment of support and I was brave. My schools created an environment of challenge and I was ambitious. My neighborhood created an environment of belonging and I was free to roam.
By A Rose Williams3 years ago in Motivation