blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

where is your backhoe?

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires was the only sound for miles as Calliope steered her RV down the narrow dirt road. The forest thickened around her, ancient trees rising like dark sentinels on either side. She slowed to a stop in a small clearing, where the undergrowth gave way to an open stretch of earth, bathed in the fading light of the afternoon.

Stepping out, she stretched, the cool, pine-scented air filling her lungs. The silence was rich here—undisturbed by the hum of civilization. It was exactly what she had been looking for.

Calliope ran her hands over her brown skin, a sheen of sweat gathering on her palms. The drive had been long, the tension of navigating the winding roads still lingering in her muscles. But this—this was peace. Her deep brown eyes scanned the trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, the light filtering through in slanted beams of gold.

She circled the RV, taking in the surroundings. The woods were dense, the canopy above creating a patchwork of shadow and light, casting dappled patterns across the ground. The earth was soft beneath her boots, and the smell of damp moss mingled with the crisp scent of autumn.

It didn't take long to set up the campsite. The RV settled into place, and Calliope busied herself with the essentials. She unfurled a worn but sturdy folding chair and placed it near the fire pit, its stones half-buried in the earth from the last time someone had stayed here. She cleared out the old ash, making room for the fire she would start later. A small stack of firewood, gathered from the woods earlier, leaned neatly against a tree nearby.

Calliope stood back for a moment, her hands resting on her hips as she surveyed the scene. There was something about the quiet that calmed her, the way the woods held secrets in their stillness. The sky was slowly deepening, its blue fading to purple as the first stars appeared, peeking through the gaps in the trees.

The interior of the RV was small but cozy, just how Calliope liked it. As the night pressed in outside, she pulled the curtains shut, shutting out the shadows of the forest. A soft glow came from the string of fairy lights she'd strung across the ceiling, casting warm, golden hues over the space. The hum of the little electric heater kicked on, breaking the silence for just a moment before settling into a steady rhythm.

Calliope moved through her routine quietly, filling the kettle and placing it on the small stove. The soft click of the burner igniting filled the space, and soon, the scent of chamomile tea wafted through the air. She changed into an old t-shirt and sweatpants, her skin catching the dim light as she ran a hand through her long brown hair. Her eyes flicked toward the window, where the shapes of the trees stood tall and unmoving in the darkness.

It was peaceful out here. Maybe too peaceful. She hadn't anticipated how lonely the quiet could feel sometimes, like the stillness could swallow you whole if you let it.

After pouring her tea, Calliope settled onto the narrow bed at the back of the RV, pulling a thick quilt around her shoulders. The night was colder than she'd expected, the forest's chill creeping through the thin walls. She sipped her tea slowly, letting the warmth sink into her.

Her eyes wandered to the small shelf beside the bed, where she kept a few of her belongings: a book with creased pages, a jar of dried wildflowers, and a small, framed photo. Hesitating, she reached for the frame.

In the dim light, she stared at the picture—a snapshot of a different time. Her younger self smiled back at her, brown skin glowing in the sun, her deep brown eyes full of life. Beside her stood Marcus, his tan skin almost golden in the sunlight, his brown hair tousled and windblown. His arm was draped casually over her shoulders, his smile wide and carefree. They looked happy, carefree.

She traced a finger along the edge of the frame, her heart tightening in her chest. It had been a while since she'd allowed herself to really look at this picture. Some days, she convinced herself that she had moved on—that leaving was the right thing to do. But here, in the stillness of the woods, with nothing but the sound of the wind outside, the memories rushed back with a force she wasn't prepared for.