31 Frights of October

Beneath the Crimson Glow

Natasha collapsed on to the arm chair in the entry room of her apartment, the lingering smell of burnt food and dust overwhelmed her nose upon entry. Her oldest probably tried to cook for everyone while she was out and chaos ensued. She grimaced at the thought of the danger they had been in— and her lack of oversight. What if something more had gone wrong?

The apartment was cramped and living with 3 kids only made it feel smaller. She rubbed her eyes the weariness from a long day of pulling double shifts at the local diner and the supermarket weighing on her. All she wanted to do after such a long day was sink into a reality tv show, escaping her never ending parade of chores for even just a moment.

Down the hall her children stirred at the sound of the front door. Her eyes wouldn't focus as well as they used to blurring the outlines of her little ones. She desperately needed glasses but her children needed them more.

"Mom!" the youngest over joyfully said, cutting through her thoughts.

"Hi love." she replied, straightening her back and hunching over to mess with his small head of hair, the same way she did every night to greet him after work.

She bit her cheek feeling the soreness in her back reminding her of how many heavy boxes she had had to haul up and down from shelves all day just to keep their home a float.

Following the youngest two older boys made their way down the short hallway dodging boxes of yet to be unpacked furniture. They all huddle around the arm chair excited to see their mom wrestling for her attention, making a soft smile spread across her lips.

She sighed sinking into the chair, the cheap polyester hugging her body perfectly from years of use. The oldest sensing her exhaustion ushered his siblings back to their rooms before hugging his mom and wishing her goodnight.

Once they were gone she dozed off for what felt like less than 5 minutes before her alarm pierced through her dreams. She yawned, fanning her mouth before craning her neck and shutting her alarm off. Natasha lifted herself onto the apartment's carpeted floors whilst cracking her back.

Still in the dirty diner uniform from the night before, she tugged at it as she headed to the kitchen. She washed her hands and face the cold water, shocking her awake. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes, while clean ones piled on the drying rack.

A rag with only a few fresh stains sat in a jumbled state on the counter top just to be plucked up between Natasha's calloused hands. She whipped her hands on it before she tossed it back on the counter top.

She pulled a pot from the leaning tower of dry dishes as quietly as she could so as to not wake her sleeping children. The walls of the apartment were far too thin to spare any small sounds. She filled the pot with canned tomato soup and water, the condensed mixture and water sloshed as she stirred them with a large wooden spoon which now appeared a variety of warm colours from its overuse. Reminding Natasha of herself in a way.

Her thoughts drifted as she nearly dozed off at the stove. The soup began to burn at the bottom of the pot, jolting her awake; she knew if she paused, she might lose her rhythm.

At 5 AM, Natasha began preparing meals for herself and her kids. By 5:30, she was done. She tackled a load of laundry, swept the floors, and cleaned the bathroom, finishing just in time to wake her kids for school at 6:20. With practiced efficiency, she slipped the clean dishes into the cupboard and washed the dirty ones in a quiet flurry, careful not to make a sound. By 6:50, she was getting ready for work, corralling everyone into the car.

She dropped them off at school by 7:30 before racing to her job at the diner, arriving at 7:45 to grab a quick breakfast of day-old leftovers destined for the trash.