Sea Glass and Sand Memories

A loud knock on my door made us hush.

I held my breath.

I heard metal scraping, as though the door bolt slid open. A shadow moved across the rug in the main room.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

Zandra stood in my bedroom doorway, her face ashen. “Lover, you and I have something to discuss. Leave her!” she commanded.

Anson gathered his clothes and left obediently.

With only a chilling look cast at me, she turned and followed him. I trembled, wondering why she didn’t harm me but felt certain Anson would pay a high price.

I dressed quickly and quietly, and moved to a position on the landing under their sitting room window, listening to every noise. A door slammed and then opened.

“You know I own your soul,” Zandra proclaimed confidently.

“You possess me only with your black deeds.”

“You are my lover. What do you think you’re doing with that girl?” she spat in a higher pitch.

“I’ll never love you.” His voice remained composed and assertive.

“Then, you will never love her,” she replied, her voice rough and catching in her throat.

I rose up just enough to peer through a slat in the blind covering their window.

Zandra stomped across the room, snatched an amber-colored bottle from a collection on a shelf, and yanked out the stopper. She turned toward Anson. Her face looked like a corpse, drawn and white. “Captus anima!” she declared in a thunderous tone.

His form vaporized into a cloud of smoke sucked in by the bottle. When all his matter entered the vessel, she quickly replaced the stopper.

My mouth dropped open, and sweat ran down the nape of my neck.

Zandra’s lips curled. “You will never love again.” Then, she looked directly at me.

Horrified, I dropped down, crouched into a ball under their window. My heart thudded against my ribs. I waited.

Nothing happened. After at least a minute, I heard her footsteps, but they sounded from farther in the apartment.

I crept back to my room, fearing every small sound I made. Once inside, I locked the door and sat on the floor, completely still, listening. Still nothing. A faint glow of dawn shone through the window. Every inch of my body trembled, and my mind raced.

© Copyright 2013 Marsha A. Moore. All rights reserved.