Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kathryn Ptacek @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Waiting
by Kathryn Ptacek

I sat in the rocking chair in the attic. This night was no different than last evening when I did the same, and listened to the low creaking of the chair as I rocked back and forth ever so slightly. It was restful, peaceful …

Tonight was no different than the night before that, either … No different from the days, too, where for hours I sat looking out the two windows as the light from the sun rising each morning filled the sky, as it faded from black to grey to lavender to blue. In late afternoon, I watched the passage of clouds as they scudded across the darkening sky.

I sat as flocks of birds wheeled across the azure sky, and sometimes I flinched when a sparrow struck the glass in one window.

I watched the ever-changing sky and listened to the call of the birds that came through the windows, even though they had not been opened in years. Sometimes, I heard the distant rise and fall of sirens, rushing to whatever emergency beckoned them.

I smoothed the soft fabric of my dress over my knees and leaned back in the chair to wait.

Creak.

Almost the sound of a footstep on the stairs. But I knew it wasn’t. No one had come up to the attic. In years, in decades. Only me.

Was I a ghost? I didn’t feel like it most days, but sometimes I did. A ghost of what was, who I had been long ago, of what I would have been. Growing fainter with the passage of time. Fading. I stared down at my pale hands resting on the wooden arms of the rocking chair, and I wondered if I was becoming invisible. Would I be a ghost then?

No clanking of chains for me, I thought with a wry smile and felt the stiffness of the muscles. How long had it been since I last smiled? Or laughed? Or showed any emotion?

Days. Weeks. Months. Years? An eternity.

A dark cloud drifted across the sky, and I knew that it would soon be dark. Lights outside would flicker on, little by little, as the shadows deepened.

There would be no light here in the attic. Only the brightness of the full moon.

I heard a stirring downstairs, and a young voice called up to me through the closed door. “Grandma, dinner’s ready. Come downstairs, please.”

I smiled again, so rusty at that, and waited until she called me again. And I stood, a bit stiffly, and bent to pick up the sharp blade by the chair, and went down to join my family as I did, day after day, year after year.