Mary Janes


She wondered through the house once more, like a record repeating itself on the phonograph, trapped in a loop of time.  She didn’t recall the last time she wondered through the room, exactly 28 days before.  An emptiness filled the house, as if forgotten, abandoned in time.

She saw him but not in time.  His darkness was pervasive and she screamed as she tried to run away, clear of the man.  She could not think, only react.  She ran, down the hall into her room.  It would be safe under her bed.  She jerked the door shut so she could lock it but he was too fast.  The door slammed open.  She backed into the shelf holding her tea set and it clattered to the floor.  The blow was swift.  She faded once more into the undiscovered bones under the window, her mary janes,  the only remains to identify her.


VisDare 102


About Denise Callaway

I started writing in the 5th grade and have folders of bits and pieces dating back nearly that far. Wonderful teachers encouraged me along the way, from allowing me to take my spelling word sentences and write a story instead to posting pictures for a free write on a regular basis. On those pictures, I often look for some obscure detail, sometimes imagined off the picture to develop into the story idea. As I grew into my teenage years, I continued to write and added poetry to my list. Throughout college and during my adult life, I've continued writing: short stories, poetry, and even a few articles for Yahoo! Voices before they shut down that venue. I do have longer works in process and I hope to one day unveil them to you all. Until that day comes, I hope you enjoy these tasty tidbits I delight in sharing with you.

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