112517b

A Winter’s Night

Outside, the wind picked up and threw itself at the house. Acorns rattled against the walls like castanets, and branches beat at the shutters. The wind howled at the full moon and hair stood up on the neck of the bearskin rug in front of the fire. The fire crackled warmly, searing the cheeks of any who came too close. Mary Ann turned her back to the fire and pulled the afghan over her bare buttocks. She hadn’t expected to wait this long. Then her heart leaped into her throat. Had she forgotten to unbar the door?! He might have come and been unable to enter. She sprang to her feet and ran naked to the door. She shot back the bolt just as a particularly vicious gust tore around the corner of the house, and indeed, tore the door right off its hinges. The suction pulled her out into the rain and she whirled away in an instant.

It was some minutes before the wind dared to enter the house, but when it did so it found the husband asleep in bed. The wind joined him. He murmured “Mary Anne” without waking and pulled the blankets tighter around him.

The end

Published in a chapbook, “Results of a preliminary investigation of electrochemical properties of some organic matrices,” Eraserhead Press, 1999.