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This is extremely image heavy (and slightly long). Click the ‘read more’ divider at your own risk. And dear god, ignore my grammar and forgive any typos…it’s five am.
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Sixteen years had passed since she had visited her Aunt’s small house. She had been merely five years old when they made the cross country trip. Snatches of a lush garden where she played while her mother and aunt sipped coffee from a chipped china set happened to be the only thing she could drudge from her memory. What she could remember clearly was that this was the only time she had ever met her Aunt. So why a woman she barely knew had decided to will her home to her, she couldn’t fathom.
She did know, though, that in sixteen years many things had changed in the world. That tiny garden was now nothing more than a forest of dead trees and overgrown grass.

As she stood on the front porch and watched the deserted street for any sign of life, Desdemona began to wonder what had possessed her to pull up stakes to move. Move here of all places. The name of the town hung over the world like smog these days. ‘Adamus, where They are sent.’ Everyone knew the name and what happened across the river from the main part of town.
It didn’t do well to think about it. She told herself she was lucky to have a house of her own in these times - No matter where that house may be located.More important matters needed to be addressed before whatever form of panic set in. The basics of moving were a tiring affair, but by mid day she had managed to move all of her possession from the truck into the house.

Stomach growling, her body demanded a break from unpacking. Standing in the kitchen, Desdemona couldn’t help but let the sheer desolation of the house and town wash over her. Pausing, she glanced out of the window to the street, hoping to see anything mildly human. She wasn’t disappointed. To her surprise, most of the shades were pulled back from the windows of the apartment building directly across from the house as four or five people peered out. A small, awkward wave on her part made three shades drop instantly.
Dessy shrugged it off and returned her attention to her poor excuse for lunch.

The rest of the night was spent unpacking. While her room at home had seemed crowded and cramped, in a house this size everything appeared quite barren. ‘One more problem for later’, she thought, running a hand through her hair.

When darkness finally fell, she mentally congratulated herself for calling ahead to have the electric turned on. The light in the hall buzzed faintly, yet all to obviously in the silent house. Buzzing and a lone moth hitting the ceiling created a serenade to Desdemona’s work. The day was wearing on her and she was still feeling the affects of the drive from the day before. Considering the bed in the hotel she had stayed in the previous night, it was actually no wonder she was even more tired and sore than she might have been.

Another sandwich and she crawled into bed. ‘Bed’ being mattresses stacked on the floor of the living room. She left the hall light on - It wasn’t that she was afraid of the dark, she simply hoped … Okay, yes, she was utterly terrified of the dark.
Hoping to fall asleep quickly, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and pulled the blankets around her shoulders until only the very top of her head was exposed. Yet two hours later, according the the blinking, red numbers of the clock perched on an unopened box, Dessy was still staring at the the wall. The buzzing of the hall light, the moth still frenzied hitting the ceiling, and the distant sound of a siren all conspired to keep her awake. It wasn’t until the clock was loudly proclaiming that it was time to wake up that Dessy had even realized she’d fallen asleep.

One week crept past, followed by another. Desdemona’s search for a job had hit a dead end much like her sleeping habits. Her days consisted of wandering aimlessly about the nearly empty house and re-reading books she had been through what seemed like a hundred times before. She attempted to explore the town a bit more once, but had made a fast retreat to her new home after stumbling across a police roadblock. From the silent ambulance slowly making its way from the scene, she didn’t need to guess what was happening. She had managed to make a quick stop at a small gas station for ramen packs and the free, local newspaper.
As she sat on the broken down sofa, snuggled into the comforter from her bed, she flipped through pages filled with bad news. As if things were not horrible already, the inevitable War seemed to be looming ever closer. she skimmed over the reports of arms shipments and advancing military powers; there was now threatening here while a little that way tried to defend that place to the east. It was a great big jumble of problems.
Dessy tossed the paper aside, bored with what it had to offer, and rested her head on the arm of the sofa. She felt like she was going insane kept in the house all alone. The past week had seen her begin to beat herself up for ever having come here. She constantly found herself debating how much it might cost her to make the trip back to her home town. The conclusion was always the same: More than she had.

After three more days had passed, Desdemona was about to crack. Perhaps it was due to the mere four hours of sleep she had in the past thirty-eight hours or maybe it was the steady diet of ramen and ham sandwiches. Whatever the reason, Dessy had decided that it was time to at least have company if nothing else in her new home. Snatching the newspaper from the floor where she had dropped it days before, she flipped quickly to the Want Ads. There was no telling what she might end up with - A serial killer, a necrophiliac, or a crazed cat lady - But she placed a simple add for a room mate non-the-less.
It wasn’t until after she had dropped the notice in the post box on the corner that panic began to settle in. Yet, the knowledge of company and money helped console her. That and the realization that they would at least ship her back home for burial if worst came to worst.

Dessy waited anxiously for the add to run. Going so far as to venture back tot he gas station to pick up a copy of the newspaper. For most of the day she waited by the phone, half anxious and half excited. And when nine pm rolled around, both feels were replaced with a sort of odd disappointment.
Another day and a half drifted past, leaving her more and more bored an anxious than she had since she moved. Every car door or sound from across the street made her jump. She was curled in bed, too tired to dress or focus on written words, when the phone finally rang. The voice on the other end was masked in static and Dessy had to strain to make out what the person was saying. Between the cracks and pops, she finally discerned that they were answering her ad. It seemed to take far longer than it really did, but at last she managed to sort everything out. As she placed the handset back on the receiver, the house felt eerie. The tap, tap, tap of another moth that had found its way inside drowned out whatever other sound might be happening miles away. Desdemona sighed, wrapping her arms around her waist. Tomorrow morning, ten am sharp. Her world would either come to an abrupt end or take a better turn. Plan and simple, black and white.
Bending over, she snatched a shoe from near the door and went in search of the moth.

She prepared herself a million times over for the meeting at ten and when the clock hit twelve pm, she felt on the verge of murder. It was the perfect way to start off. While she had intended to accept this person as her new roommate from the beginning (simply because no one else had inquired about the offer), she wasn’t so sure now.
It wasn’t until nearly three that a faded, yellow taxi stopped in front of her home. Desdemona peered between the blinds as a tall figure stepped out of the back. Her heart dropped slightly when she realized the static coated voice from yesterday belonged to a man. Then her heart dropped all the way to her feet when the taxi’s trunk popped open and the man began to pull one bag after another out.
She stared blankly out of the window, attempting to swallow the lump in her throat. Before she knew what she was doing she was on the porch, stuttering madly without managing to get any words to exist her mouth. The man paused as he sat a box onto the sidewalk.

“This is the Russo home, isn’t it?”

Desdemona only managed to nod.