This is a story I wrote for my writing class:
“Why am I here?” Kate thought to herself as she drove the car into the garage. She got out, closed the bay door and retrieved her briefcase. “Honey? I’m home!” she muttered as she walked into the house. It was as empty as it had been the day she left it; the furniture gone, the big bay window sporting only one faded green curtain panel.
Kate dropped her briefcase and looked around. “What a joke,” she sighed. “Why would anyone want this house? We were so miserable here.” She walked into the kitchen to see if any of the appliances remained. Maybe she could sell them for cash. Technically, she still owned the house, even though she didn’t live in it anymore, hadn’t been back, in fact, since that last night. A haze came through her mind as soon as the thought materialized. She often found that this happened to her. In fact, it was happening more and more lately. She just needed more sleep. That was all.
She shook it off, continued forward. And brushed by something. When she turned to see what it was, she realized that she was upstairs in the main bedroom. Confused, she went to the window to look outside. She had stood in this spot often when she still lived in the house. Kate couldn’t remember coming upstairs, but she went to look anyway.
Curiously, outside the window, fog had rolled in. The fog was so thick that she couldn’t see past a foot or two. “That’s odd,” she thought to herself. “It was sunny and warm when I came in.” She stepped back from the window and found herself in the kitchen. She blinked, confused, and walked forward toward the sink to see if the vision outside the downstairs window was any clearer. Again, she saw only fog.
“That’s enough! I’m outta here. This house is giving me the creeps!” Kate went to grab her briefcase so she could get back into her car. But her briefcase wasn’t where she had dropped it just a few minutes ago. “What’s going on?” she sobbed. “I don’t know what’s happening!” She began wailing. He wouldn’t let her go. Again, he wouldn’t let her leave. “Please, I can’t do this anymore, John. I can’t be married to you anymore.”
She ran toward the stairs, intending to go back into her bedroom and lock the door. She saw John, blocking her way up the stairs. He reached for her. Again, he reached out with his fists. And with the knife that he held in his right hand. The fog descended over everything this time.
**********
Sarah Jones was sitting at the table in the kitchen. She turned to her mother. “Didn’t you hear the lady scream that time, Mommy? It was just like the last time I heard it. And the time before,” she commented matter-of-factly. Molly Jones cast a worried glance at her husband. “What lady, Sarah?” she asked her daughter.
“Kate. The lady with the briefcase. Her name is Kate. John won’t let her leave. He says they will be together forever,” Sarah continued coloring in her coloring book. She smiled at her mother and father.
“Sarah,” said Bill Jones, “who are Kate and John?” Sarah looked up at him. “They live here, too, Daddy. Kate tries to leave all the time. But she keeps coming back. Over and over she comes back. And he makes her scream, Daddy. She screams every time.”
