A Sweet Little Dark Path

It was dark.  Jacqui was all alone.  The trees covered overhead thickly, and no stars or moonlight could give off light.  She walked on the gravel path quickly.  Her throat ached from calling to her mother (Jacqui’s mother had brought her out here to meet her father.  She was six and never met her own father).   
 

Her sides hurt from running all day.  She was also hungry.  Her pain was nothing but an excuse to not be worried.  She knew that very few people lived there, but she was still at unease.
 It was strangely mystical outside.  The chilly night air crept up on her.  All the blonde hair on the back of her neck stood on end.  She wrapped her arms around her and tried to keep warm.  Her breath was visible in front of her.  Jacqui stood still like she was frozen for a little.
 

Suddenly a dim light shined in the distance.  A stumpy, yet violent figure moved back and forth, as if pacing.  Jacqui tried to ignore it but it seemed to call to her.  Jacqui took off running toward the light.  She hadn’t seen a light in hours.  Maybe it was her unknown father. 
 

She raced all the way up, and then stopped.  She listened inside for a man’s voice.  No voice.  She listened for her mother’s familiar voice.  Still no voice.  She got slightly closer to the light.  There was a lot of screaming.  It was a man and women but Jacqui was sure it was the television.   She proceeded into the kitchen with caution. 
 

Nobody was there.  The refrigerator was standing wide open.  All the lights were on and bright.  There was fruit in a basket.  A couple beautiful plants were sitting around.  One hung from the ceiling.  The food on the table was half-eaten.  It was set for four.  A small round plate had all of Jacqui’s favorite food on it.  It was even smaller than the rest.
 

Jacqui went over to investigate the table.  A knitting needle sat on the edge of the table.  Her mother didn’t knit so it wasn’t hers and she was pretty sure her father didn’t, which made her wonder of whom it belonged to.  Her mother’s favorite food was sitting on the table too.  

 She slowly backed, finding all of this crazy.  She felt the warmth of the light disappear off her back.  She backed up a bit farther into a soft figure.  She spun around in spite of herself, hoping to see her mother.  She looked up at an old woman with white misty eyes.  They looked like she knew magic, but really it was because she was blind. 
 

“I’m terribly sorry.  I must have the wrong house,” Jacqui said quickly. 

“Well you might.  Tell me your name dear,” she replied.
 

“I’m Jacqui- Jacqui Taylors.”

 “Oh, you are quite correct, dear.  This is your father’s house.  They were so worried about you.”