The knock came during the worst spring storm in recent memory. A moonless night shrouded the uninvited guest in shadow. The seventy-year-old woman remained frozen in her chair with the hope that strong wind and heavy rain were playing tricks. She muted the basketball game that kept her up late on Thursday evenings, her one indulgence in a life of sacrifice. The knock came harder this time, startling her from the recliner. She thought of grabbing the portable phone from its dock, but instead whispered a silent prayer as she shuffled toward the front door. For half her life, she occupied this same home, never once feeling unsafe surrounded by her sisters. But they were gone now, some retired, others called home eternally. In isolation, she had performed more prayers for victims seen on the local news and read about in the paper, leaving her with constant worry for the world around.
"She breathed deeply and squeezed the silver pendant of Jesus crucified, until her knuckles whitened and palm bled. Interesting construction and word-choice there. I also appreciated the recliner, the phone with oversized numbers., the irony of “I appreciate your hospitality, Sister Agnes.” (Not sure about that $100?) Nice build up of tension here. Another satisfying story, Mr Smith. Sharron at 🍁Leaves
"She breathed deeply and squeezed the silver pendant of Jesus crucified, until her knuckles whitened and palm bled. Interesting construction and word-choice there. I also appreciated the recliner, the phone with oversized numbers., the irony of “I appreciate your hospitality, Sister Agnes.” (Not sure about that $100?) Nice build up of tension here. Another satisfying story, Mr Smith. Sharron at 🍁Leaves