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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Rosemary's sight is poor but she refuses to wear spectacles. This leads her into a frightening situation.

Submitted: January 18, 2007

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Submitted: January 18, 2007






Seeing, they say, is believing.  But not for Rosemary - the maxim passed her by.  Her sight was poor but she refused to don spectacles.


It was probably something in her high school years that had guided her thinking.  She could remember those boys laughing at poor little Georgina. " Broken Coke bottles" they'd screamed, "you couldn't hit the side of a barn from 5 yards." Georgina had borne it well, but "she's much stronger than I" had been Rosemary's wistful thought.


The light faded as she pulled out of the parking garage.  She struggled with driving, especially at sunset, before the lights came on.  To make things worse, a light drizzle had started, and she buckled down to a half-hour of steady concentration.


  Relief coursed through her as she pulled her car into the tiny garage, then made her way up the path.  The house was in darkness, and tonight she sensed an unfriendliness greeting her from the gloom. She struggled with the key , then finally,  as the lock turned,  thought she heard a sound in the kitchen.  "Who's there?" she called cautiously.


She felt for the switch in the hall, and after a short scrabble,  flicked it. No light came. "Dash it" she whispered,  then made her way past the pantry, seeking another source of light.


As she rounded the passage corner, Rosemary sensed a shadow cross the window, but couldn't be sure.  More muffled sound came from the breakfast room beyond. She instinctively ducked back into the pantry and crouched down, hoping that her fears were ill-founded.


 A few minutes passed and her eyes became more accustomed to the dark.  She peered around the door and through the wet kitchen window, saw a fuzzy light in the house next door streak on.  Through the pane, she could just make out the shape of her neighbour.  She thought to call out, then felt silly.


The frightened woman ventured cautiously out of her hiding place and tip-toed towards the scullery. There was a sudden movement on her right and a man stepped from the shadows. "Who's that?" she called hurriedly.  He was holding something in his hand which she couldn't make out, and he suddenly thrust it towards her.


 "Surprise!" yelled Don, " Anyone for Chrysanthemums?

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