The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

It was July the 2nd, 1998 when she first appeared. A slight, pale woman with large black rings around her eyes, thin, hollow cheek bones and hair like matted wire. I watched from the front desk everyday as she flitted up to the window, stared into the police station and repeatedly tapped her bony fingers against the glass. I’d been drafted to the small seaside town of Gentry less than a month ago and not a day had gone by without the woman appearing at the window, sometimes for hours on end. I’d asked a couple of my superiors what she was doing but they merely avoided my eyes and told me not to pry into private affairs. Today was no different; the woman crept over to the window and danced her fingers across the glass. The sky outside grew dark as the hours dragged on and I watched as the first drops of rain fell from the sky. This light drizzle quickly progressed into a downpour and I observed as the woman went from being doused to being drenched in a matter of minutes. Yet her moveme...

When I was a young child, I had a playroom filled with toys which had accumulated over the many holidays and birthdays. I remembered sitting in the middle of that room playing with my toys each day. My mother and I were reminiscing one morning as I was packing my things to move into my new apartment when she brought up that playroom. She said that she always thought it was odd that I would sit in that room for hours playing with one single toy telephone. She said that it was a toy I had gotten for my first birthday, and she was surprised that I hadn’t lost interest by my sixth birthday. This brought back memories of my playroom and that telephone. I remembered exactly why I had begun playing with it and why I had stopped. I was four and it was the week after Christmas. We had just relocated all of my new toys from the living room up to the playroom, and I was eager to nestle into my usual spot in the center of the room. I had only just sat down and picked up a toy horse when I heard a...

My house is so quiet. Except for the pattering of the rain on the window, and the scribble of my pen as I frantically write in order to get a good night’s sleep tonight, and the grandfather clock ticking. When I’m alone, I seem to pick up every little sound. To sleep without first recording what has happened would be the worst thing I could do. I must record everything. Every last detail. I cannot forget. I- I woke up with a sudden sense of dread, though of what I did not know, could not explain, and ultimately forgot as my senses came to me. I realized my family was already up and engaged in their morning routine. A glance at the clock radio on my nightstand and my customary verification by the clock on my wall told me that I had overslept by fifteen minutes. Jumping out of bed, I hurriedly dressed, brushed my teeth, and was on my way down the stairs pulling my hair into a ponytail when there was a knock on the door. It was uncommon to have a visitor this early in the morning, but be...

As requested by  http://foonirvanacage.tumblr.com/ Enjoy. — David stumbled to his car in a daze. The last couple of hours were a complete blur. Haunting images would sporadically cross over his mind, slowly reminding him of the hell he’s now leaving behind. He felt in his pocket for his phone and dialed 911. There was no way he could explain any of this, but for some reason his first reaction was to call - maybe they could just come here and confirm that it’s a normal house, nothing more. They could put his mind at ease and he could go home, live a normal life with- Then he remembered. The dirt under his feet slipped around him as David tore back to the house. Maggie. Maggie was in there. As he ran, he flipped through his phone - looking for the old texts he knew he sent. but there was nothing. There were texts, to Maggie, from Maggie, but all of them were blank. David swore under his breath as he reached the door. He tried the knob, but no use. With both fists he pounded on the d...