Jean Du Prees

35

You're sitting by the fire in an old padded recliner. The snap and pop of the flames is the only sound you hear. Your cabin, or the one that used to be your grandfather's, has become a pleasant retreat from you job in the city. You jump when a dish in the sink slips. You curse yourself for still flinching at sudden noises. You still carry emotional scars from that night. The night she thought she was losing you to some imaginary woman. Jean. Ten years ago she almost hurt you very badly. You can still bring back the image of her wild eyes, her maniacal grin, and the carving knife in her hand. Jean. Locked away now for a decade in a mental hospital and still she haunts your thoughts whenever something spooks you. Then above the soft winter wind and the crackle of the fire you hear your name. Its coming from outside. A voice from what seems beyond the grave. The moon passes through the clouds and you see someone. Jean. She's plodding through the snow and calling for you. Reaching for you, walking towards you. Jean is here!