blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

biological need

She pulls on a pair of worn jeans and a cozy flannel shirt, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the forest as she makes her way through the underbrush. Her brown eyes scan the path ahead, her warm brown skin glistening faintly in the early morning light. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a messy bun, a few stray curls escaping to frame her face.

When she reaches the riverbank, she finds a spot where the trees hang low, casting dappled shadows over the cool, rushing water. She casts her line into the river, the bait sinking with a soft plop, and leans back against a large rock, taking a deep breath as she settles in. The gentle rush of water over the rocks brings her a sense of calm, her muscles slowly relaxing as she takes in the peaceful scene.

But then, a rustling sound behind her snaps her out of her reverie. Calliope straightens, her grip on the fishing rod tightening as she turns her head, heart thudding in her chest.

"Hello?" she calls out, her voice steady but edged with tension.

For a moment, there's only silence, then the sound of leaves stirring in the breeze. She lets out a breath, shaking her head. "Probably just a deer," she mutters, willing herself to relax. She's about to cast her line again when she hears it—a soft crunch of footsteps. Before she can react, a figure steps into view, close enough that she can see his face beneath the hood he's wearing.

"Whoa!" She jumps, spinning around to face the stranger, her fishing rod almost slipping from her grip. He's standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. He has dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes, a face tanned by days spent outdoors. His features are sharp, and his clothes are dark and well-worn, hinting at a familiarity with the wilderness.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, his voice calm but carrying a strange, unsettling edge. "I saw you fishing and didn't want to intrude."

She narrows her eyes, taking a step back. Her gut twists with a sense of unease. "You scared the hell out of me," she says, aiming for a hint of annoyance to cover her nerves.

The man raises his hands in a placating gesture, his gaze steady and unblinking. "Sorry about that. I've been hiking around here and just happened to come across the river. Figured I'd check it out."

The river is secluded, the woods dense and remote. His sudden appearance feels off, too convenient. Calliope shifts her weight, tightening her grip on the rod. She's ready to defend herself if necessary, every instinct on high alert.

"Right," she says, her tone wary. "Well, I like to fish alone. So if you don't mind..."

He holds her gaze for a moment, then nods, his expression still calm, almost amused. "Of course. I'll keep my distance."

As he turns to leave, she watches him disappear into the trees, her heart still pounding as the unease lingers. She keeps her eyes on the spot where he vanished, half-expecting him to reappear. When she's sure he's gone, she releases a shaky breath, but the tension in her chest remains.

The river flows on, indifferent to the encounter, but Calliope's morning no longer feels serene. She can't shake the feeling that he'll be back—or worse, that he's still watching her, just out of sight..

.

.

.

Calliope stepped cautiously into the clearing, her breath hitching when she saw the man from earlier crouched by the riverbank. He wasn't fishing with a rod or even a net—just his bare hands. She watched, transfixed and uneasy, as he moved with a fluid, practiced grace. He plunged his hands into the water, and in one swift motion, pulled out a wriggling fish, its silver scales glinting in the sunlight.