3rd Grace Bender, “It Was Through a Crack in the Blinds”

It Was Through a Crack in the Blinds

No one believes it will be them. No matter how many times it happens to others. That’s the problem with being human. Foresight does not exist. Perhaps I should have known. Perhaps I could’ve had a different fate.

t was through a crack in the blinds that I saw her that night. She was standing under a flickering street lamp, completely still. I didn’t know what to think. She must have been freezing, it was a cold night. I could feel the bitterness through the glass pane. She was immune. She allowed the wind to whip her thin, white dress against her pale legs. It wasn’t uncommon, I thought. Many people came wandering down here, hoping to catch a hitchhike. I was scared. Scared for her. Didn’t she know what happened to girls who got picked up at 2 am? Still, she stood unmoving. Unnaturally still. Her hollow eyes wandered down the road. I looked away. A sharp breeze hit my neck. I turned back to the window. It had not been open. The girl was gone. It was like she had never been there.

I looked down. My heart skipped a beat. I took in a quick breath. I saw her raw feet on the edge of my porch. Again, she was unmoving. She needs help, I thought. A warm meal and a bed to sleep in for the night. I turned from my window and padded down the creaky wooden staircase. I walked down the hall with my blanket around me and slowly opened the front door. I started to say, “Can I help you, miss?” but I was talking to no one. She wasn’t there. I tightened my blanket around my shoulders. I shuffled back down the hall and up the stairs. My bed was welcoming. I could see John laying there, peaceful. I slipped off my slippers and crawled into bed, I pressed myself against his warm back. I slipped my arm around his side. Something was wrong. He was warm, sickly warm. And sticky. Almost like… blood.

I whipped my hand back and sat up in bed. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I flicked on my bedside lamp and there she was. Standing in the corner. I screamed. She smiled. Her eyes, no longer hollow, but deep. Too deep. They looked at me, unblinking. Her stringy black hair hung limp at her sides. She began to walk towards me. A sickening scraping sound began to claw its way into my ears. I looked down to see her overgrown toenails leaving large gashes in the old hardwood. I looked back up. My head was pounding. My heart was pulsing. My body was paralyzed. She was getting closer. She was whispering.

“You saw me.” Her voice echoed cooly within my ears. I didn’t answer. “Finally,” she said this louder.

She was inches from my nose in a flash. I felt her unnaturally cold breath wash over my face. I was breathing hard. My heart was bursting out of my chest. I willed myself to move. I couldn’t. She slowly raised her hands to my temples. I felt her bony fingers grip tight around my skull. I tried to scream, to talk, to do anything. She gripped tighter, pressed harder against the sides of my head. The pain was overwhelming. I felt a warm trickle slide from my eye. It was too heavy to be a tear. I began to utter a scream. I didn’t finish. I would never finish anything again.

Now I stand beside her. I stand beside her on the side of the road on the bitterest of nights. Waiting, watching, waiting. I want someone to look at me. I want someone to give me permission to come closer. I want to fulfil my fate just as she had done. Then it happened. A woman looked down at me through a crack in the blinds. After all these years it was finally my turn.

No one believes that it will be them. But now it was me. Perhaps I could’ve had a different fate. But I didn’t want one.

Grace Bender—3rd Place, 11/12 Fiction

Abdul Khan—Grade 10