“I’ll return shortly,” he said. That was three years ago.

Evelyn watched the moonlight struggle to enter her bedroom. Too weak to penetrate the palpable darkness saturating the space, the moonbeams bounced off the blackness and scattered back into the night. Exactly 404 days have passed since his last letter. The silence toyed with her imagination, making it conjure up numerous grisly possibilities for his continued absence.

With an impatient sigh, she curled into a ball, attempting to quiet the feeling of dread writhing around in her stomach. She hadn’t expected to worry about him this much.


This piece of writing was originally posted on my previous author blog: Devi Michaelils.

Image by Mollyroselee from Pixabay

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