Unlike most people, the prospect of spring’s arrival filled me with not with hope and excitement, but apprehension and dread. Every day I stared at the small mound of dirt in my backyard, knowing it wasn’t just the ground that was thawing.
Waiting at the bus stop, I sigh heavily as I stare at the ground, feeling the rain drum against my shoulders. I panic when the raindrops start to feel like fingers.
What should have been an occasion to celebrate had immediately turned into a nightmare of police questioning, media harassment, and stress. After all, finding a hundred thousand dollars in your living room wall is great, unless you find a body stuffed in next to it.
I should have known something was off about my date, Steve, from the beginning. Anyone who lets a match burn down to their fingers without flinching should not be trusted.
From the first day I met him, he promised to always love and protect me. Hollow words from someone who was keeping me chained up in his basement.
I shifted on my stool, a worn picture of my deceased husband’s photo in my hands. Before the priestess snapped her fingers, she gave me one warning: “Be carefull what you wish for.”
The church is quiet as I light the last candle in the row, closing my eyes and murmuring a desperate prayer. A cold whisper of a draft blows against my neck, and when I open my eyes, my candle is the only one lit.
My daddy always told me that the tingles I felt on the back of my neck was my guardian angel watching over me. But now that it’s whispering in my ear I’m really not so sure.