The Calm After the Storm

Anne pads over to her bedroom window, pushing aside the white lacy curtains her mother
chose. Though it wasn’t just those that her mother picked out, she had selected everything in her
room, everything in their house. Her mother, Stella, had always seemed to have visions for the
way things should appear and needed to carry them out exactly. After her death, Anne knew she
couldn’t replace a thing. To some, redecorating was a much needed change to help them move
on. But her mother was all she had ever known. To strip each room clean and refurnish would be
wrong, and Anne wanted to feel as close to her mom as she possibly could. 
Lifting her window slightly, she inhales, the fresh scent of post-rainfall filling her senses.
Glancing out, she takes in the dark glistening streets below, the cracked concrete sidewalks
reflecting the aftermath of a heavy storm. Nature and trash litter the ground below, although
Anne isn’t sure if it came from the carelessness of the wind or her neighbors. The surrounding
sky is inky black, with only a few glittering stars and the flickering streetlights brightening her
sad city block. Anne rests her elbows on the windowpane, sighing gently. There’s no one around,
although there never is. But that’s how she likes it.
As Anne continues to gaze, a shriek of laughter breaks her trance. She peers to the left,
her roaming eyes settling on a woman walking on the road. The lady is well-dressed, diligently
stepping around the debris in her blazing red heels and clutching her phone to her ear. She
doesn’t appear to notice Anne, but that’s alright. She much prefers to remain hidden from others,
observing from the shadows in the background. She wonders why the fancy lady is in her area,
why she’s walking instead of taking a cab. The woman’s shrill voice and shoes against the
pavement grow louder, invading Anne’s thoughts. Slapping her small hands over her ears, Anne
blinks rapidly in a fruitless attempt to block it out. 
Her mother had been deaf. Stella’s inability to hear caused her to raise Anne to be
cautious of the world. Stella had forbidden her to leave their small house during the day, only
allowing her to explore their surroundings in the dead of night. Stella herself never left the house
unless it was absolutely necessary, ordering groceries to their front stoop and working from the
safety of their home. Anne only knew the sounds made inside their house- the hums from
appliances, silverware scraping their plates, doors opening and closing. Not much more than that.
Stella and Anne never used their voices even though the latter could and communicated only
through sign language.
Stella died from an unidentified illness when Anne was twenty. She hadn’t the slightest
idea of what to do without the only person she’d ever known, and became even more of a recluse
than her mother. She rid her life of society entirely, always finding ways to avoid leaving her
home. Even in situations when Stella would have made a rare visit into the city, Anne managed
to find a solution allowing her to circumvent it. She refused to step outside, even when it was
night, and the metropolis was drowning in silence. Instead, she began opening her bedroom
window at night, enjoying the sleepy town from her sanctuary.
Now, Anne floats out of her safe haven and down to the woman, reaching out, her well-
groomed fingernails stretching into hideous talons. Her hands wrap around the lady’s neck and
her cell phone hits the pavement below. Clawing at Anne, the lady struggles for breath, her eyes
widen in terror, her lips blue, and her peachy skin whitens. Reveling in the inaudible screams,
Anne sneers and a sinister smile creeps across her face as the woman’s head falls back and her
movements still. Anne drops her lifeless body with a thud and snatches her phone, smashing it to
the ground. She winces at the loud clatter, but slumps in relief when silence surrounds her once
more. 
 A muffled yelp snaps Anne to attention. The imaginary scene that was playing in her
mind dissipates as she realizes the woman is still alive and she hadn’t just been strangled. She
sets her hands on the windowsill and cranes her neck. She tilts her head in curiosity as the once-
chattering stranger sinks to the ground face first. A figure clad in black hovers over the woman,
his hands slipping off the knife plunged in her back. As her blood pools, the man picks up her
phone and chucks it to the concrete. He lifts his head until his scarred face meets Anne’s own
stare from her window. The man bares his gnashed teeth in a smile and slowly winks at her
before slinking back into the darkness of the night.
Grinning back, happiness warms her body and Anne takes in the scene before her. A
beautiful red seeps down the streets, the objects on the ground welcome the broken cell phone
pieces. The specks in the sky glow cheerfully and the dim lamp posts illuminate an inviting path
among the sidewalks. The quiet of the night envelopes Anne, a shiver of appreciation relaxes her.
Turning from the window, Anne lets the curtains fall and slips into bed. Sleep is quick to
overtake her, and a sliver of light shines on her peaceful smile.