The Woman In The Window Novels & Stories

I ran my fingers along the chipped wood of the table. Had she sat here? Had she looked out this very window? The waitress brought my drink. “Someone just missed you,” she said casually, setting it down. I blinked. “Excuse me?” She gestured toward the window. “A woman. I was sitting there earlier. Said she didn’t want to be seen. Left maybe twenty minutes ago. Looked familiar. Like someone from the news.” My heart raced. “What did she look like?” “Dark jacket. Ponytail. Kind of haunted, you know?”

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.

Finally, he tugged the cover back over me, as though shielding what was his. Then, without a word, he stood and walked into the bathroom, leaving me in the quiet, tangled in sheets and emotions I could no longer untangle. As I lay there, struggling to steady my breath, a sudden flicker of movement pulled my attention. My heart jolted as my head snapped toward the window. Standing just beyond the glass was a woman. Thin. Ghostly pale. Her hollow, sunken face was framed by tangled strands of dark hair. Her wide, unblinking eyes locked onto mine, as though she couldn’t believe I was staring back at her.

Then he nodded and said, “Yes, it is indeed the bedroom window.” “When Mrs. Moorsum fell off the top of the villa, a woman was lying on the bed in the bedroom. Then the loud bang woke her up, and she ran to the window to see what was going on,” The policeman said as he played the fragment of the video again. When Cristofer saw the woman’s face clearly, he was stunned. The woman appearing at the bedroom window was none other than Estelle.

She is looking out the window. “No one asked you, J.I Jane, we all know why you standing by the window.” Mercy snaps at Jade who goes red in her face. I lean my back against the wardrobe door, enjoying the show. The woman has been getting crapped on the whole day. But she takes it like a champ every time.

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.

He takes a cup of coffee and heaved a sigh, then came over to the side of the window and peeked out. “This is no time for taking breaks. Why am I wasting time here anyway?”. He takes a sip of the coffee and looks at the other wing. He noticed something. There was a woman standing at the window, as if looking out for someone who might be approaching her. Her behaviors were quite suspicious. He became confused so he observed her for a while. Suddenly, their eyes met and she hides herself from him right away closing the window. She covers the window by pulling the curtains. He almost dropped the cup from his hand.

“Not this time.” Ava met his gaze. “I won’t.” He nodded. “Good.” Elsewhere The facility was cold. Sterile. A woman sat by the window, wrapped in a gray shawl, watching snow fall beyond reinforced glass. Her hair had gone silver. But her eyes Her eyes were Ava’s. She closed her book as the door opened. “They’re coming,” the guard said. She smiled faintly. “I know.” “Are you afraid?” The woman shook her head. “No. I’ve been waiting.”

The photographer was standing just outside, watching through the glass. The message reads: He is breaking. You are breaking. This is what I wanted. This is what I planned. Soon, you will have nothing left. Your strength will be gone. Your hope will be gone. Your family will be gone. And then I will take everything. I will take Eleanor. I will take the institute. I will take your future. I look at the window. The glass is dark. The trees are black. A figure stands at the edge of the tree line. A woman. Grey hair. Black coat. She is watching.

The window rolled down. It wasn't Julian. It wasn't the Mother. It wasn't a machine. Sitting in the driver’s seat was a woman with grey streaked hair and a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She looked like a librarian, or a teacher, or a grandmother who had seen too much. She was holding a clipboard, and on it was a list of names. Most of them were crossed out in red ink. "Name?" she asked, her voice brisk and utterly bored.