Nancy m. long
She crept down the stairs into the basement. She wasn’t usually allowed down here but today felt different. She still took a moment to look over her shoulder. Through the basement door and at the end of the short hall she could see the red glowing outline of the study door. Anna didn’t know what she was going to say. She tiptoed closer to the door, trying to hear any noise that might come out of the room. There was none. All she could hear was her own soft breathing and the tacky sound of the rubber on the bottom of her slippers as she made her way on the bare basement floor.
“Grandmother,” She whispered, standing still. Nothing. She took a few little steps forward until she was right in front of the door. Sticking out her pointer finger she traced the rough wood, coming to no conclusion. She put her ear to the door, gently pressing, and could just make out the scratching sounds she so associated with her grandmother. She could see her crouched over her desk with her pen dripping, dipped in black ink, black drops on the page, smudges down her arm.
“Grandma?” She said again, whispering so low she barely broke the silence. The scratching sounds stopped. Anna took a quick breath in and held it, not wanting to give herself away. Her grandma, she knew, didn’t like to be disturbed. She worked down here because she was very sensitive to sound and light and all the things that little girls do. Even so, Anna wanted to see what she was working on. She wanted to ask for a little sister. She could be quiet. And she’d come all the way downstairs without turning on one light.
She brought her hand up to the door, a little fist, and was readying to knock when she heard the rustle of papers and the desk chair roll across the thin carpet. Her fist was still hanging in the air when the door opened, flooding the hall with red light.
The woman flipped on the switch just outside the study door and the light flickered on to light the empty hallway. With her notebook under one arm she locked the study door for the night before heading up. At the top of the stairs she clicked off the basement light without stopping, leaving everything behind her black and quiet.
“Goodnight.” She whispered to all of her characters, “Sleep tight.”
Little Anna is a character from the story, "Anna Wunsch", yet to be written. I'm hesitating on writing it because actually writing a story down is like setting it free into the wild. It's not yours anymore and even if it comes back it's not the same. You can enjoy it then as something outside of yourself. It's too concrete after it's all down on paper. Anna Wunsch is one of those stories I don't want to give away yet, I love the characters too much.
The above is a quick 3rd person POV practice for Dr. Gorev (Coming soon). Two days till go time!