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Window Across the Street [MultiFormat]
eBook by Jay Caselberg
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$0.49 |
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$0.42 |
eBook Category: Horror Year's Best Fantasy and Horror Honorable Mention
eBook Description: Sometimes, the watcher becomes the watched. Sometimes that leads to places you don't want to go.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Bloodlust UK, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: October 2003
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [39 KB], eReader (PDB) [20 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [6 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [6 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [59 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [76 KB], hiebook (KML) [44 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [32 KB], iSilo (PDB) [5 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [6 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [34 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [12 KB]
Words: 1837
Reading time: 5-7 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
Her window stands across the street, framed by white wood, by bricks, fawn shaded in the dimming evening light. Curtains are there, half-closed. A gentle breeze stirs them back and forth. The same breeze moves a tree branch and the leaves sway to and fro, occasionally obscuring then revealing the shadowed space beyond. My eyes are sensitive to every twitch of movement, in the same way my cat's ears dart at every sound--like radar. Sometimes he sits with me as I watch and I stroke him gently from head to tail, my cat, my long time companion.
Late at night, across the street, she closes the curtains, checked, glowing dimly in the darkness. Half-formed man shapes move behind them, and I can but imagine what goes on in there, in that private place shuttered from the world. She leaves the window open, but the curtains closed. The breeze sometimes parts the cloth tantalizingly, revealing the barest sliver of the space beyond. She always looks before closing them, out across the darkened street, glancing up then letting the hair fall across her face, a cascade of blond, as if she does not know. The lingering glance before she drops her gaze sets my heart pounding and dries my mouth. I speak to her then, my lips forming words, but no phrases come. The wind and the gentle rumble of my cat sitting beside me are the only sounds to break the stillness.
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