The last writer’s group of the year is off to a strong start. There’s a mix of new and returning members, but good stories all around. I’m hoping as the group progresses we will see a few more people willing to share there stories here, but for now you’ll have to be content with mine.
By Genevieve Clovis
Evangeline crept out of the bushes checking to make sure no one could see her. She made her way to the front, staying close to the house to avoid setting off the motion activated light, and climbed up the stairs passing over the creaky fourth step.
So far, so good. She pulled the lone silver key from her pocket and prayed he hadn’t changed the locks. Evangeline held her breath as the key slid home and turned. There was a soft click as the door unlocked. She smiled and had to suppress an excited giggle. Her heart beat wildly as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
She hadn’t been in the house in almost a year. Not since her and Dale had had their falling out, but nothing had changed. The walls were still a nauseating shade of pink, the grey tiles were cracked and dirty, and the house smelled of must and air fresheners.
Evangeline stood in the doorway taking all this in and listening for sounds of sleeping people. A loud snore cut through the stillness of the house. Dale. He clearly still slept with his door open. She tiptoed down the hallway and into the kitchen. The moonlight shining through the window glinted off the metal toaster. A new appliance; a quick glance told her is was one of many. And the lack of dishes in the sink made her heart race again. Something was wrong, something had changed.
She was across the small kitchen in five steps. Evangeline reached up over the range hood and opened the doors, but the cupboard was empty.
“Shit,” she cursed quietly, and closed the doors. Her eyes searching around the room aimlessly as she tried to think of where he would have put it, if he’d kept it at all.