She moved silently down the hall, making sure to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the age of nine, she had almost perfected “being seen and not heard.” Though, her heart still pounded loudly in her chest, screaming to let the rage out.
She paused just outside the living room, listening. There was the sound of deep breathing. They were most likely asleep. Her body stiffened as she thought about walking past the door. Could she make it without being detected, without being seen?
She took a deep breath. Slow. She needed to be slow. Trembling, she took a step. The next would allow her to peek around the corner, to see if they really were asleep. She could do it. She would make it.
***
She took one more silent step and peeked around the corner. Mister lay on the couch, his back to the door. Ma’am reclined in the stuffed chair, with afghan thrown over. A snore sawed through the otherwise quiet room.
She bit her bottom lip and eased forward. This was the hard part, where the floor had too many creaky boards. Almost to the other side, the knot between her shoulders began to relax. That’s when the last board screeched.
A shout came. “What are you doing out of your room, girl! We’re trying to rest!” Ma’am glared, with that hate in her eyes.
Mister rolled over, grumbling. “Go back, shut the door, and don’t come out until we get you.”
***
The floorboard squeaked as she lifted her foot to head back to the room. Mister rolled onto his side with his back to her once again. Ma’am gave one last piercing glare before closing her eyes. They were no longer looking at her.
She paused. Was this her chance to renew her plan? Did she dare? Yes, she dared. She turned and stretched as far as she could, placing her foot down on the floor. Silence. A shiver danced up her spine. A couple more steps and she was out of view.
She crept over to her little hiding place, a metal vent in the wall hanging on by just a screw. Grabbing her treasure from inside and holding it tightly to her chest, emotions threatened to bubble to the surface.
***
A snore sawed through the other room. She jerked as if she had been hit by a spark. Staying here was risky. She needed to get back. Clutching her treasure tighter, she eased over to the living room door.
As she cautiously stepped past the doorway, a floorboard groaned. She paused, stiffening. Ma’am shifted in the recliner, but other than that there was no change in the room. Her face grew warm as rage flooded over all her other emotions. Why? Why was her world like this?
She turned abruptly and made her way back to her room, feeling as if she was on pins and needles. She pulled the door behind her. Going to the other side of her cot, out of view of the door, she plopped down on the floor. Now she could look at her treasure, even if it was only for a little while.
***
She traced the faded face of the lion on the cover of the paperback book. He was calm, yet powerful. She touched the edges of the pages, worn and tattered. Her heart thumped a little louder as she glanced furtively toward the closed door. Ma’am would get her in trouble for reading.
She opened the book. Now to find where she had left off. Remembering what she had read the last time, her rage fell away, replaced by wistfulness. If only she too could walk through a wardrobe door into another world.
She started reading. It was a magical world full of peril and hope. And the lion could speak. Goosebumps ran up the back of her neck. She paused and stared ahead. Her life wouldn’t always be this way. There was the possibility of hope and a future.
***
This post was inspired by the hope*writers January 2022 Instagram Writing Challenge daily word prompts.
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