Through My Window Book English Novels & Stories

‎ ‎Right outside my window. ‎ ‎

Emma's POV The words hang in the grey air between us, cold and sharp. The nursery window. My hand does not shake. I do not let it. But the stone pavement beneath my boots feels suddenly unstable, as if the ground itself is shifting. In my mind, I see the small white frame of the window at the end of the hall... the one that looks out over the quiet courtyard... the one where Willa stands in her pajamas to watch the rain. I see a hand reaching through the glass.

Casey P.O.V It was Sunday morning, and the sunlight streamed gently through my window, casting soft, golden shadows across the room. The faint chirping of birds outside my window added to the serene ambiance. I stretched lazily in bed, savouring the quiet, before finally pulling myself up. Another day, another routine.

[Carys] Reality bled into my unconsciousness with the loud pattering of rain mixed with snow against the glass windows. My eyes opened to the intricately designed old fashioned arched window, flanked by inbuilt bookshelves. A black couch was placed between the bookshelves. Beyond the streaks of raindrops trailing down the outer surface of the windows, a storm raged. Ominous monstrous clouds cannibalized one another, hanging low in the dark sky. I could hear waves crashing against the shore.

Devoid of even a window blind to cover its nakedness from the world. Looking back, that should have been my first warning that something wasn’t quite right with that home; unfortunately for me, my heart was taken by my husband’s excitement and it helped to cloud both my judgment and stomach-turning worry that house left me with that afternoon. Like this window in my new home, that window was the sign, but I was illiterate and unable to read.

The sensation of his warm breathing on my neck. What am I even thinking Ugh! My stomach growled and I looked at the food. It looks good. I took one bite to see if something happened. If it's poisonous or something but it's fine. So I ate all of it. A sudden thought of running came into my mind. I looked around the room and saw a window. I went towards it and tried to open it. But it was locked. I tried to open it with my hairpin-like in the movies I've seen but it wasn't working. I went to the washroom and there was a window at the corner, which was open and I can pass through that easily...

Why add more? Stepping sideways to the window, I swing the lamp. And just like I thought, my hand goes through the glass with the lamp. Glass glitters as it falls to the ground below my window, but I can’t hear the sound over my own heartbeat freaking the fuck out. I step to the window and pull in a few lungfuls of clean, pure air. It’s with my head mostly out of the window that I hear the sounds of sirens coming towards the house and I know that help is on the way.

I can picture him crazed, tearing up the roads in his truck, racing into the city and quizzing a confused and frightened Mercy about my whereabouts. I've got to keep trying. My heart pounds as I stalk over to the last window, hidden behind a voluminous sheer curtain, the only one I haven't tried because it looks too small to climb out of. "C'mon," I whisper, willing the window to open. With trembling hands, I reach out and grasp the slim metal lock. To my shock, it pops open in my fingers. Relief shoots through me as the window slides over, and muggy air floods the room. Finally. I close my eyes and let my small victory sink in.

With my healing ability, I’d be back to normal in a day or so. I exhaled, wiping the sheen of sweat from my brow and pushing myself to my feet, ready to leave. But then I noticed the window – partially open behind the half-drawn pale green curtains. A sudden draft caused the fabric to billow inward, and rain drifted in, scattering droplets across the couch cushions and a few books left atop it. It seemed Anna’s maid had forgotten to close the window before leaving. I moved toward it, driven by instinct, to close it before the rain ruined the books.

With a groan, I smash the stone through the window beside the door. The glass shatters. I reach through carefully, unlocking the door from the inside and pushing it open. Finally. I really hope the journal is here. Dusting my hands, I enter inside the building. The entire place looks so empty and there are cobwebs hanging from the roof and windows. On my right, the wall cabinets are dusty, their glass doors reflecting the weak sunlight coming through the broken windows. Far ahead, the examination table in the center of the room is covered with a white sheet that is also dusty and filled with cobwebs.