/ phantom /
a figment of the imagination
"She was like a dark wave crashing upon the bright shores of his horizon."
Anne Wheeler. An outcast. A loner. A street orphan. A disregarded, disgraced child born out of wedlock. A broken girl waiting for a s...
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Anne pulled her shawl tighter around the bare skin of her shoulders as she fought against the strong wind whipping around her body. The dark curls of her head blew around raucously, slapping her neck and cheeks. Tingles of cold sparked their way through her arms and legs.
But one thought warmed her up inside and forced her on.
She was nearly there.
She was nearly home.
Then she stood, uncertainly, before the door of the closed apartment, wondering if she should knock, hoping that she would be welcomed, wishing that she could stay.
Slowly, a clenched hand rose towards the oak panels of the door that were cracked with age and wet with mould.
"Anne?"
Hurriedly, Anne spun around to see her brother, W.D, entering the alley.
"W.D!" she exclaimed as she rushed forward to meet him.
Flinging out his arms, W.D grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her upwards in a big, bear hug. "Ah, Anne," he breathed into her hair. "I've missed you. So has Oma."
"Can - can I come in?" Anne queried, almost afraid of the answer.
"Of course," W.D guided her towards the door. "Welcome back, sis."
As Anne stepped into the dank shadows of the house, she saw her grandmother, slouched sadly in a rocking chair that had been set up by the crackling embers of the fire.
"Oma [Grandmother]," she whispered as she approached her on soundless feet. "Da ich bin, Anne [It's me, Anne]."
Grandmother Wheeler's head perked up and she turned misty eyes towards her granddaughter. "Anne," she smiled. "Du bist zu mir zurückgekommen [You have come back to me]."
Anne nodded, tears of her own arching down her cheeks. "Ja. Ich habe dich vermisst [Yes. I missed you]."
"Hast du diese dumme Idee aufgegeben? Hast du dich entschieden nach Hause zu kommen [Have you given up this foolish idea? Have you decided to come back home]?" Grandmother Wheeler straightened up eagerly.
Anne let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. "Nein. Es ist nicht töricht. Es ist mein Traum [No. It is not foolish. It is my dream]."
"Sie denkt nicht so [She does not think so]," Grandmother Wheeler furrowed her brow and pointed over Anne's shoulder.
Surprised, Anne straightened up to see Miss Patterson sitting at the family table with a mug of steaming tea in front of her!
