Other stories for this prompt

The woman at the window was dead. I knew because it was my sister. She appeared whenever we left the house. We no longer looked around up at the top floor to see the dark shape behind the thin lace curtain. We had seen her too many times before, her wretched, contorted face imprinted on our minds.

Martha died in a house fire seven years ago. Accident after she left a burning candle on her bedside cabinet overnight. It tipped over as her blankets were thrown back during a nightmare. Dad couldn't reach her in time as the room had...

Sophie stood at the window, the curtains snug around her shoulders,trailing behind like a dress, or veil. The sun was dipping down behind the trees across the way.

He should be home by now, she thought, chewing the already ravaged thumbnail on her right hand.

She thought about the fight they had the night before. How she had held onto the seeds of those feelings for so long they had germinated and grew and soon the roots were twisted around with her insides, and the branches and leaves moved with her arms.

The anger had grown and become parasitic. And...

she watched for him. the curtains engulfed her as she pressed her nose to the glass, eyes intent on the driveway. As his car pulled up, she smiled. before he could say anything, she plowed into him and smothered him with kisses. he laughed as she settled into the familiar position against his chest. she missed him too much to put into words. well, excluding the words "she watched for him."