Cleo: A Narrative Fiction

“And, then, Clarisse was gone. He didn’t know what there was about the afternoon, but it was not seeing her somewhere in the world. The lawn was empty,

Estelle Louise glares at Clemmy Sue, then turns to Miss Ta Rot and says with a smile in her voice, “I wants to be thankin’ you for this here reading.”

Her house appeared to be falling apart. It was as if a tornado hit. The dirty dishes piled up higher then the Eiffel tower. Dirty laundry was strewn around the living room floor so densely, it looked as if there was no floor at all.

The hall had finally been stripped of all paintings, she noted with some frustration. Along with the rest of the paintings in the house, any object of value had gone missing. When confronted, her father had mumbled a lie about charities then waved her away. Even the good silver was gone, and most of their servants as well. All that remained was the cook, two house girls and the gardener, Pierre. He had been with them since her mother passed, and though he was well past working age, he seemed to have no desire to

Mary sat at her desk, just like she always did. The desk’s varnish had been worn down to the raw wood, and it was covered in scratches made by her own clawing nails. Mary couldn’t remember when she had been locked in there, in the blanched room. The room was vacant except for the debased desk, a plastic chair, and a very shabby Mary.

As she opened the door, she hoped to herself that the inside was nearly as well done, to her delight... it was. The carpenters had fully replaced the banister and painted it and the blood trail was gone from the hardwood. All of the workers were huddled inside the cafe sipping on some coffee, they appeared to be taking a break. Her heart began to race as she ran up the stairs, it was rounding on five and they couldn’t afford a break...or could they. Cleo froze on the top step, it was unimaginable. Every fleck of wall and every particle of dust was in its original condition. No blood, no knives, not a single atom out of place. In stunned silence, she paced the hardwood floor, she walked from the railing to the bathrooms. She wasn’t sure how

When Henry gets home and starts dressing for dinner Elisa nervously waits on the porch for a reaction on her appearance from her passionless husband. “She looked toward the river road where the willow-line was still yellow with frosted leaves so that under the high grey fog they seemed a thin band of

Quinn Garner - shoulder length straight black hair, medium complexion, medium height, 16, spunky, #1

They walked and walked, and soon after they arrived at her house. Cleo was shocked and surprised, but mostly she was anxious, seeing her family outside of the house. She ran immediately to hug them, and also her parents were glad she got

It was an enormous, square room, with a well-used pine table in the middle. Two walls had windows with deep stone sills, but it was too dark outside to see, and in a way, this made Clemmie feel isolated, and cut off from reality. Cupboard after cupboard, she tried each door. Well, she certainly couldn’t eat scrubbing brushes, or cake tins. But, then she found the fridge. A light switched on when she opened the door, and, there was so much choice she didn’t know where to start! A hunk of cheese looked good. But the slice of meat pie looked even better. As she ate the pie with gusto, she traipsed around the room, taking care not to drop crumbs on the floor. When she finished the last morsel, she licked her fingers, wiped both hands down her sides…then

Drea, seated across from Joan at the Cup and Sword Tavern, grinned at her friend. Drea was thrilled to learn of Joan’s pregnancy and grateful for her friendship. It had been a lonely few years, raising Wallace without a father, but Drea’s new relationships with Alis, Carina, and Joan had drawn her out of isolation. This was the first time in years Drea had gone out for an evening meal with a friend, though she experienced a dull pang of guilt for leaving Wallace with the neighbor.

Tiora sat gracefully in her seat, still in her dress from the night before, one leg crossed delicately over the other and her shoulders back in a relaxed posture. She glanced around the room, her bright green and brown flecked eyes took in the plain white walls of the small room. A giggle bubbled from her lips, she knew that the plain

Jade storms into the study with smoke coming out of her ears. She storms up to her father desk and plants her hands on her hips. Mr. Pinole looks frightened. It had cost much to renovate her room and had to do it more than once and by the look in his precious daughter’s eyes, he was soon to have his study on the list for renovations. It didn’t take long for him to know putting his study back together would take several weeks.

It had been exactly two minutes since they had entered the flat, and he already knew there was something wrong. His chair was at a different angle, his violin on the other side of the room, his papers stacked up into neat piles, and that wasn’t the only thing. His books had been in alphabetical order by publisher, yet he now found them alphabetized by author. How was he supposed to find his books now? His drawer of perfectly arranged by color socks? Ms. Hudson had moved them. All of them.

“Ok, I understand Mrs. Evans.” He noticed the way she looked at her husband’s picture hanging on top of the chimney. It was like he was still there to watch her. Everything in the room was tidy and clean. She must have made time pass by cleaning up everything. He could see though that there was an unusually big pile of papers on the corner of the desk behind her seat. Maybe she had been busy organizing some things, a job or maybe a closer investigation on the case…