our own eyes .” “ That ’ s if they even believe us .” “ Don ’ t be such a spoil sport . We can ’ t back out now , chicken .” The girl pulled her arm back and launched a stone in an arc that ended with a smack against the window , splinters of glass raining to the ground and a spider ’ s web of cracks fanning out from the centre towards the worm-eaten frame . “ Stop calling me that ,” she said , face flushed blood-red . “ Jeez , I didn ’ t mean you to hit it that hard .” “ You shouldn ’ t have made me angry .” “ You ’ re angry ? How do you think the witch is gonna feel when she sees that ?” There was a pause . “ Maybe we should get out of here ,” said the girl , dragging her hands down her dress to wipe away the film of mud and sweat that ran along the pathways of her palms . “… Well , Dad will be wondering where we are by now .” “ Exactly . We ’ re not giving up …” “ Yeah , we just don ’ t wanna get in trouble . I mean , we can ’ t come back tomorrow if we ’ re grounded .” “ Mm-hm .” “ Let ’ s go .” The children scrambled to their feet , discarded stones tumbling down the banking towards the house . Both stole hurried glances at the broken window as they hurried home , each careful not to let the other see the furrows that wrinkled their brow . “ Are we really gonna come back tomorrow ?” asked the girl . “ I dunno . I think I might be bored of the house now .” “ Yeah , me too . Let ’ s do something else tomorrow .” The whistle of the breeze through the trees at their back swallowed up the sound of their sighs , thick with candy-sweet relief .
Nestled amongst the wool of a cushion torn open in curiosity , a mouse prepares to welcome her first litter . The sound of fragmented glass settling upon the floor like scattered stardust worried her . After all , she chose this place for its stillness , all previous semblance of life having fled the confines of these four walls long ago . Shredded newspaper clippings foraged from the cabin made ideal insulation for her new home ; her babies soon to be cradled by crisp slivers adorned with whispers of a story long forgotten in a town left many miles and many years ago : ‘ FIRE ’… ‘ CHILDREN ’… ‘ DEATH ’… ‘ MOTHER ’… ‘ HEARTBREAK ’.
She luxuriates in this fragile sanctuary , her heartbeat slowing as peace resettles like a downy blanket once more ; a near silence broken only by the creak of old rope and the brush of tiptoes against cold , hard floor .
***