Door locked. Windows too. No escape. Everyday. I cry out. None hear. Everyday. Fed once. Not yet. A bird lands outside. Plump. Turns its head. Flies away. Nothing to do but sleep. Footsteps. Heavy. Him. I dash. Keys jingle. Him. I hide. Lock turns. Door opens. He enters. I pounce. I strike. He grabs me. […]
Morning light streamed through the oculus. Jane ducked a spiderweb. Dust lay thick upon the dollhouse, masking the beauty of the mansard roof and turned wood on the porch. Inside, Lucy played the stencilled piano. Penelope drank tea. On the papered wall hung Grandmother’s portrait. Jane dropped a hand to her swollen belly. Afterword The
