𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 ( @writermoore )
8 MONTHS. 9 DAYS. & 3 HOURS. that’s how long it had been since brooklyn had been told that her precious baby girl was gone. today was supposed to be her eighth birthday and despite her therapist’s warnings she had gone to the toy store and bought a three speed bicycle with pink & violet accents. and as she expected it moved of his own accord around their dismal little foyer.
when these things started happening, brooklyn thought she was going insane. it would make sense considering what she had endured over the past year. francine’s death. her husband’s adultery. the subsequent divorce. & now the hallucinations. but then she tested a theory...she wasn’t hallucinating because her dog could sense it too.
she’d heard of steven crane from someone in her grief counselling group. her research led her to an email which she haphazardly wrote a correspondence to. she hadn’t expected a reply but it came. and now she sits in her living room with shaky hands expecting his arrival. the doorbell echoes ominously and she rises to her feet. a few scattered footsteps later she stands at the threshold and takes a deep breath. a pantomine of a smile is on her lips as she opens the door.
“hello mr. crain it’s nice to meet you I hope your journey went well.”
