#24

He only lets me out when it’s dark.

My day begins with the sound of a key turning the lock in the front door. I listen attentively. I can guess the weather by the sounds he makes after he drops his keys in the glass bowl on the hall table – a coat shook off and falling to the floor, an umbrella sliding into the stand. There may be heavy sighs, or a light footstep, or even a low moan. I don’t dare forget any of these things, because soon he will unlock my box and look at me with either appreciation or boredom or disgust, and it’s better if I know what’s coming.

Today there was much sighing. Perhaps because the weather is bad. There is a coat on the floor and an umbrella in the stand. But no, there’s more. A sadness I have not detected in a while.

The light in my room goes on. It seeps through the cracks between the boards. I smooth the front of my dress and organize my facial features into an expression of concern. The key turns in the lock and the lid swings up. He looks at me and smiles.

“Boy am I glad to see you, Cheryl.”

“I’m glad to see you too, Bruce.”

“Let me help you up.”

He takes my hand, but I don’t need his help. I am built for getting in and out of boxes. I step onto the scuffed wood floor of my room and brush a few bits of straw off the back of my dress.

I tilt my head to one side and make my eyes just a bit wider. “Did you have a hard day, sweetheart?” I stroke his face with my fingertips.

“The hardest,” Bruce replies. “Everyone at work keeps ignoring me. I think they hate me.”

“Impossible,” I smile. Then I kiss him on the cheek. “Let me straighten up the house and get dinner started. Then you can tell me all about it.”

Bruce exhales and his shoulders drop almost imperceptibly. I have soothed him. That is my function. The gears whir and spin. I am learning.

I touch his arm as I pass. “Why don’t you get out of those wet clothes?” I offer. “I put some fresh ones out for you just before you left this morning.”

That coat will stain the floor in the hall if I let it.


About Prompt-A-Day: The rules are simple. Every day, I generate a promptĀ using Story Shack’s awesome writing prompt generator. Then I set a timer for one hour. At the end of the hour, I post what I’ve got. Sometimes it’s decent. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes I fail at the prompt. Sometimes I do okay. I do not edit, unless I find a typo, because I can’t help fixing those. Feel free to join in and post a link to your writing in the comments.

Similar Posts

  • #14

    The weather gets to everybody eventually. The weather and the isolation. And the same five faces staring at you over your corn flakes every damn day. Winters in Antarctica are no joke. We get three hours of sunlight a day, and the temperature routinely dips below -40. Even though there are a few hundred people…

  • #31

    Seeing for any distance was out of the question. But that was fine, because there was nothing to see. Just miles and miles of unbroken dunes and, above them, a brown-gray sky that masked the sun.

  • #18

    “Auntie! Please let me down!” In the hours Aunt Beatrice left her there, one of the tethers that held Carolyn to the floor had come loose. Well, to be honest, she’d loosened it. At the time, she thought if she could just get free of the tethers, the magic would be broken and she’d float…

  • #6

    Where Gerald opened his front door that morning, the neighborhood kids were blocking the street, shouting and kicking a ball around. His nerves burned at every shout and kick as he locked each of three locks from the outside. They all took separate keys, but as this was his practice, he locked them in quick…

  • #5

    Grace was nowhere to found. It started just like any other day. Tom waited in the pick-up line with the other parents, inching his white Camry closer and closer to the curb where the kindergartners waited in a jagged row, twisting and swinging their backpacks and occasionally covering their mouths to whisper in each other’s…

  • #16

    The remains of someone’s camp laid scattered across the uneven asphalt outside the old Acme grocery store. It looked like the occupants had lived there for a while, based on the number of jagged, dried out cans that were strewn among the broken chairs and cigarette butts. They’d been gone a while too. April had…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *