She came before midnight, sneaking past the dying dogs. Wriggling her fingers hatefully she crept into the children’s room. She stood in the doorway till Monday, eyes hollow and gaping, lips tightly drawn into a twisted grimace. The wind blew sometimes through the broken window and it seemed to soften her painful face. By Tuesday she was gone.1
Author notes
i am working on finishing stories so i figured super short stories was where to start.
