The Woman In The Window Novels & Stories

It seemed to the woman; no one was up, although it was around midnight. The woman in the dark clothing moved to the edge of the roof. She looked down in the street below seeing no one below or near her. On the wall below her was an open window. The woman dropped down from the edge of the roof catching the edge of the roof with her hands and entered through the window feet first. She cast her eyes around the room seeing no one. She then headed towards the shut door across from her. She slowly turned the knob on the door hearing the turbines turn in it, opening. It was unlocked.

He says. “I would rather die, father,” I say again. "NO... Don't do this, Amber... please don't!" A woman screams. She whimpers uncontrollably. Her hand up to her chest as if she was suffocating, and perhaps she is. I turn to look, it is a lady in a dark navy dress with a white bonnet over her head. Our eyes meet, those beautiful dark eyes, framed in a red line, bloodshot. My mother.

... In a villa somewhere in North City, a man with a pipe in his hand was holding an iPad in one hand, and his fingers were sliding through the photos on it with the other hand. The air was silent. A woman walked barefoot on the soft carpet, her smooth and slender legs swinging under the wide shirt. She glanced at the man, walked straight to the window, and opened the window. The night wind blew her shirt, revealing her bulging belly and her long hair. She held her hands against the window and bent her head. Her curly long hair swayed gently like seaweed.

The gentle wind lifted up the beautiful dark blue curtains of the large window, allowing them to lift and gently sway in the wind. The woman who stood before it sighed, opening the large double doors walking toward the balcony, glancing over the suburban town she was in. she watched the light traffic in the streets below, normal people going about their day. “fragile little humans,” She muttered underneath her breath, turning away. Her large purple gown swirled behind her as she made her way towards the sofa.

Ryan did not confirm nor deny it, but I could tell the truth from the guilty look in his eyes. The scorching summer day in June felt like winter to me. I held my breath in shock. What was I to Ryan, if that woman was his wife? "Stop faking it," the woman taunted me. Then, she went on to introduce me to the onlookers. "Ladies and gentlemen, take a good look at this homewrecker! She snatched my husband from me, and she had the audacity to ask him for an apartment."

The meeting with Kieran had left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I wasn’t in the mood for any more of his games. Just as I was about to turn away, a flicker of movement caught my eye. My gaze narrowed. A figure was crouched near the tree outside my window, shifting cautiously on the damp grass. Even from this height, I could tell it was a woman. The way she moved—slow, deliberate as if she was trying not to be seen—was all too telling. I leaned against the window frame, watching her. She was clearly trying to get up here, probably thinking of throwing stones at the glass to get my attention. I nearly smirked at the ridiculousness of it.

It looked like a flipping beehive. We watched as an older man came into the room and took the woman by the waist. He buried his nose in her nape, then began groping her chest as she protested. All of a sudden, the windows in the great room exploded, crashing inward. The woman’s eyes were a vivid violet as she seethed in the started man’s arms.

The same woman who stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the clearing beyond. She was still—almost eerily so—her fingers grazing the barricaded window as if reaching for something beyond it that couldn’t be seen, or someone. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, giving her the structure of a perfect portrait of how still she was. She was dressed in a simple white nightgown and nothing else. Her whole focus was outside the window, hating the fact she was kept locked like a prisoner, her sense of freedom inhibited by this barricade, one she so desperately wanted to claw at.

“That’s not what I saw.” I frowned. “You saw something?” “Yes.” Her voice shook with anger. “I saw with my own eyes how happy you were with the woman you brought into this house.” The moment she said that, confusion hit me instantly. Woman? “What are you talking about?” She shoved me hard enough to make me stumble slightly. “And the two of you didn’t even care that people could see you through the surveillance cameras while you flirted around the house!” Wait. Surveillance cameras— Everything suddenly clicked inside my head.

Then she turns back to the window as if she didn’t just do that. This woman. “Can I roll the window down?” she asks between verses. “I need fresh air.” “Whatever you want, Angel.” She looks at me when I say it. Just for a second. A small smile touches her lips before she presses the button. The window slides down. Warm city air rushes into the car, lifting her hair instantly. Dark strands whip across her face and mouth, but she doesn’t bother brushing them away. She tilts her head back and lets the wind have its way.