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Flash Fiction – “The Window”

405 words. (trigger warning – mental health & incl. potential illness)

By Danielle Mcdowall

FEBRUARY: The night was dark, it was cold, and there was a fog outside. She sat calmly looking out the window again. It was the last night of the month and a man was walking down the road with a dog, a puppy perhaps, it was hard to tell from the distance that she was stood.

LAST DECEMBER: It was 6 pm and dark. She looked once more and there was a figure on the floor, the person’s face wasn’t visible but whoever it was looked out of place. Who was it & why was he or she there? She fell asleep easily and looked once more when waking up, she looked at her watch it was quarter past 3 in the morning and there was another man, older & stockier stood there facing her window, hiding his face.

The woman was living alone and started to question her sanity.

“Am I imagining these figures?”
“I am alone in this house and I have no one to call”
“Should I confront them? Or deny they turned up?”
“…and if they even exist, why are they here?”
“Do I know you from somewhere?”

LAST MARCH: she looked out the window once more and there was nothing but cars and concrete. Was it all in her mind? had she created these images? or was it too much vodka? she didn’t drink.

LAST JULY: she looked out the window at a blank canvas. What that was once there, stood still. There no movement. Silence except for a black cat running silently across the road, looking for a mouse. The birds sat on the roof, ready for the morning. All that was there, had vanished.

“Will they ever return?” she asked.

“Did they ever exist?” she asked again.

LAST SEPTEMBER: she was alone, the TV had broken and there was no-one to call.

“Is there anybody out there?” she cried.

There was no reply. There was a silence, in the deep dark room, she started to look outside,

“Maybe I can find a friend from the outside of this house.”

“No one knows me”

LAST OCTOBER: She needed her meds. She had stopped taking them. She was not alone. She was where she belonged. Safe. The voices in her head didn’t exist, or the figures outside. The silence was deafening but she was finally at peace.

“They don’t exist, I DO”

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