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- Herausgeber: BookRix
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Several times her momma had found out she had dared to go down close to the river, ignoring her warnings. Of course she had only feared for her safety, forbidding her to go there anymore. A Short Story.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013
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Moon Mist and Shadows
A Short Story
I want to thank my husband for all of the long hours spent editing my story.BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 MunichMoon Mist and Shadows
Dahlia lay sprawled across her bed, her head resting on the palms of her hands. She was lost, reading her book, but raised her head when she heard someone calling her name. She closed the book and sat upright when she heard her name more clearly a second time. Dahlia jumped off the bed and opened her door in the basement, looking up the stairs to the main floor.
“Yes?”
When there was no answer she closed the door and returned to her book.
She heard the voice again.
“Dahlia. Dahlia!” Louder this time.
She closed the book once more, and then returned to the door to find out if someone might be playing a joke on her. No one was outside. Climbing the stairs, she opened the hall door to see the family in front of the television.
“Has someone been calling me?” she asked, though not with any particular annoyance in her voice.
Everyone sat glued to the television. Her Mother looked over after hearing Dahlia’s question.
“Sorry honey. We’ve been so engrossed in the movie. What were you saying? You think someone called you?” Carol Mills smiled and winked at her daughter.
“Maybe you just thought someone was calling you. Here, why don’t you come and sit down. There’s plenty of popcorn, and the movie is great.”
The inviting smell of the popcorn, her brothers and sisters quiet and peaceful—so out of character for them—caused her to forget “Little Women” for a moment and join the family.
The movie was not very good, she thought as she sat and munched the popcorn, but it thankfully ended an hour later. All the time as she watched it she could not put out of her mind the voice she had heard twice a bit ago, though.
“Okay kids, it’s time for bed,” her mother said when the credits began to roll on the screen.
“Turn off the TV, and be sure to take your bowls out and put them in the sink.”
***
The Mills family lived in a white bungalow surrounded by massive elm trees on the corner of the street, just a couple of blocks from the Salt River. John Mills had purchased the home only a few years before Dahlia was born; long before the rest of the seven Mills children came along. It was a large home, as bungalows go, and Dahlia grew to love its proximity to the river (which was declared off-limits to herself and her siblings). In the spring, particularly, the smaller creeks and rivers feeding it swelled, dumping themselves into it, and Salt River often rose several feet, and flowed with a strong, brown rush that, if anyone fell in accidentally—well,Carol had nightmares about something like this happening.
The Salt River was simply off-limits.
It was Sunday, that day it started; clear and bright and warm. Church had ended, and everybody had changed out of their best clothes for lunch. Inside, the dining room table was all set for the big meal of the day.
John Mills, an accountant for the local public utility company, had taken a second job two years earlier in order to pay the ever-increasing grocery bills, and keep current with the mortgage payment. He parked cars at a nearby restaurant/lounge, and on the weekend the hours were from three to eight p.m. As such, the main meal on those days was an early lunch, after which everybody disappeared.
