The Shadow in My Bedroom Window
VC4 - Fiction - Short Story

There I was with my feet in the snow. Never had I felt so numb. I’m not sure what it was, but something was different. I stood outside my house that early morning looking into the window of my bedroom. There was something there, a dark shadowy figure. I couldn’t quite make out what I was seeing.
Snowflakes fell on my face and the cold caused my eyes to squint. I’ve felt the cold of the snowy days before, but there was something about this day that seemed to be the coldest I’d ever felt. I couldn’t even remember how I got outside that icy morning.
With each step, attempting to get closer to my house, my foot sank deep enough to cause a struggle.
“I feel like — like I’m dying.” I thought to myself. I looked up into my bedroom window once again to see the shadowy figure again. It seemed to be hanging still from the ceiling. I had no idea what it could be.
To the right of the house, I noticed my husband pulling up the driveway in his truck. He works late nights, sometimes even overnight — like last night. I’m no fool. I know what that means.
I yelled out for him, but for some reason I had no voice. I watched as he walked into the house. The living room light went on — then the hall, then my bedroom.
There I was — hanging, somehow, from the ceiling. Suddenly, I remembered.
“What have I done?”
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