Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
☾ 𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇
"Get ready."
Polly's sharp bark of orders filled the room. Anna shivered. Her mother had been stuck in her harshness ever since they'd returned from the hospital three days ago. She couldn't bring herself to do anything other than follow what she asked for or bring her mum tea when she was cold. Anna imagined it was what she was like when she first arrived home from being saved from the noose- a shell of a woman that, despite everything, wouldn't crack.
"I thought we weren't seeing Michael until this evening?"
"It's not Michael we're going to see," Polly said, shoving the last pin in her head and reaching for a cigarette. "Tommy's calling on his dogs."
Anna watched her leave before she placed her gaze on the letter that still sat by the front door. The black hand stared back at anyone who entered or left, as if it was a sign. It was as if Polly wanted to see the image that'd caused her nephews death and her son's serious injury. A reminder of who she would get her revenge of eventually. Anna didn't doubt that she would.
"It's war," Polly's voice echoed from the other room. Anna sucked in a breath. "And it'll reach everyone of us."
As the pair made their way from the house in Sutton to Watery Lane, Anna couldn't help but think about her mother. The way her eyes glazed over as if she was seeing the spirits again, and the way of talking like a prophet made her worry.
Ada met them quickly by the door, her red lips pulled firmly into a straight line. Inside was quiet, despite the fact that enough coats were piled onto the rack to suggest they were the last to arrive. It wasn't until Ada was pulling them through the hallway toward the sitting room and eventually the kitchen, that the reality hit Anna. Her mother had said that Tommy was calling his dogs. Who else could that be, but the rest of the family.
Ada sent her a small, reassuring smile before she stepped into the room, a hand on the small of her back. "Everybody. This is is Anna," she said, eyes fluttering nervously as she paused. "Polly's daughter."
The room inhaled.
"Anna?" A tall man- Arthur- stood up, the moustache across his lip twitching as he spoke. "I don't believe it. Back from the grave." He he lowered his head, cap in hand. "Me and... John- we used to tug you about in a cardboard box down the back lane. That was being nice, we used to kick around Michael's."
Anna smiled slightly- to do so felt wrong. "I'm glad to be with you all again, I'm just sorry it's at such a time."
Arthur nodded in understanding. "John boy would have loved to be here."
