About Rose Odengo

Rose is a sailor on the ship of life exploring the islands of copywriting, journalism and creative writing with her pen, paper and creativity. To find out more about these great islands and her discoveries visit www.bellaanne.wix.com/odengo.

She was in the feotal position on the cold red cement floor. She faced the blood stained wall dazed. Her cheeks were stained with white tear marks; her lips were pale, dry and pursed. Her neck had reddish groove like scars. Her body was tense and she gave off a rhythmic wince. Her frock, looked like grandma’s; long sleeved and huge it was stained with patches of yellow, red and an occasional brown. Her toe nails were pale and legs looked dead and stuck in the curled up position she was in.

The lights flickered irritatingly with a distant dripping sound. About 5 metres from her in the opposite side of the room, in the pitch dark, a rat was gnawing at a human finger in a pool of fresh blood. Cockroaches scrambled up the wall. The walls had symbols drawn in blood, symbols that looked like an oriental language. One character seemed incomplete. The blood streaks off, a blood strained prolonged finger print moved from the end of the character to the bottom of the wall. And right at the bottom was where the rat gnawed at its feast.

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