A Deity Rose: Nature's Wrath

Chapter 1 - Memories

There was something about the aged cottage in front of Calla Moro that let unease run wild in her stomach. She had a growing list, from the birds singing, to the warm afternoon glow scattered through the trees. Everything gave her a churning mess of mixed emotions and memories that she didn't want to think about. It only made her miss her mom that much more. Her vivid blue eyes scanned the outside of the cottage, grateful that it didn't need much work. Her mom had an immense love for gardening. Even her old age never stopped her from being in the garden all day. Their family home could have been straight from a fairy tale, it was that picturesque.

The lawn was bright and green, all on its own, Calla's mom, Nancy, had prided herself in that. Nancy did have to hire someone for leaf and snow removal, but Calla was hoping the house would be out of her hands by then. This still was a coveted neighborhood, all these years later. An assortment of Fall flowers lined the front, back, and walkway of the house, adding to the fairy tale aesthetic. Both of them loved to sit on the back porch at sundown to watch the woodland animals frolic in the woods. Nancy would tell Calla, at a young age, to listen for the creatures of the forest chattering back and forth. Calla smiled at the memory. No matter how hard she listened, she would miss out on the conversation. But Calla knew Nancy caught them conversing. Coming back all these years later, after so much had changed, Calla couldn't have asked for a better place to grow up.

Calla started to head inside, passing by an ancient oak that held a tire swing that's seen better days. Memories of her younger self spending hours on that thing floated in like the gentle breeze that tossed her golden waves of hair. She pushed the thoughts from her mind as she was here for a greater purpose. She pulled out the key to the house with trash bags and plastic bins in tow. There was a moment of hesitance before she crossed the threshold into her childhood home.

Tears welled in her eyes as the stark realization that her mom was gone was even more prevalent inside. Pictures of the two of them hung on the walls, sat on tabletops and were even printed on a blanket somewhere. Calla grabbed her favorite picture off an end table. She was eight, and it was the day that Nancy had adopted her. Both had smiles across their faces and tears running down their cheeks. That was eighteen years ago, but Calla was grateful as Nancy had treated Calla as her daughter. She was still in awe that Nancy had lived to be ninety and had still been sharp as a tack. When Calla was younger, Nancy would tell her stories of when she was a nurse on the Navy ships during the Korean War. Sometimes those would even replace her bedtime fairy tales. She had a gift of telling stories filled with brave men and women, nail-biting battles and everything in-between. After her war stories, Calla had always been too excited to sleep. They would read a few chapters of a book together until she had fallen asleep to hearing the printed words.

With a soft sigh, still holding back tears, Calla placed the photo down. She was here to clean out the house and sell it. As much as she wanted to keep the charming home, she lived with her best friend, Felicia, in the city. She hoped another mother-daughter team would move in, which would warm her heart. Calla planned on spending the week to sort through everything. Her work was convenient. She worked for herself, as a freelance writer for companies. Felicia didn't have a typical nine-to-five job either. She was a model with dreams of walking in one of the world's most coveted fashion weeks. Except, Calla was on her own for two months as Felicia was gone while she visited her parents in Indonesia.

A peppy tune broke Calla from her morose thoughts. She reached for her phone that rested in the back pocket of her jeans and saw that it was Felicia. Calla brought the phone to her ear, "Hey, Felicia! I thought you boarded your flight?" Calla dropped the bins and trash bags by the door. She went to lock it but waved a hand at it. This was a safe neighborhood. She would be in and out anyways to take the trash bags to the bin at the end of the driveway.