The Drowned Woman. Terry Lynn Thomas

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      ‘You’ve a friend in me. If I can help, just ask. Good night, my dear. Sleep well.’

      Soon Helen came to help me hang my clothes. She offered to brush my hair, but I declined. Instead I crawled into bed, aware of the space next to me where Zeke should have been. The curtain rustled in the breeze as the crickets and frogs made their night noises.

      I was sound asleep when I heard footsteps outside my door. I opened my eyes and reached for Zeke, but the space next to me was empty. I got up and padded to the door, flung it open, and stepped out into the corridor. The house had a stillness to it, as if it too had gone to sleep for the night. In the distance a door shut, but other than that, the house was silent. Where was Zeke?

      The curtain hanging over the open window at the end of the corridor billowed in the evening breeze. As if on cue, everything went silent. Even the frogs and the crickets ceased their song. I stood in the corridor until one lone frog called and was soon accompanied by the others. An owl hooted, and the nocturnal sounds resumed. I searched for a light switch but couldn’t find one. With the moonlight showing me the way, I headed toward the staircase, certain that I would find Zeke in his father’s study, poring over papers, or sitting in a chair with a book in his lap.

      Goose bumps broke out on my arms. After a second my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Someone was behind me, a presence. ‘Who’s there?’ I turned, but not quick enough. A strong hand connected between my shoulder blades. The hand pushed. I tumbled.