Gas Lights

• Abbey Gleeson, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

The woman walks down the cobblestone street. Her coat wrapped tightly around her, hair whipping her face as the cold, English wind blows. Her shoes clip-clop as she walks. Her key already in her hand she heads home. The gas lights burn dimly.
The man follows her.
The stone bricks are damp with drizzle. She wraps her coat more tightly around her. She’s almost home where she can light her fire.
Suddenly, she turns.
She has heard something. The man has kicked a loose stone and it has clattered down the street. He hides behind a wall. The woman sees nothing. She continues walking. The man follows her silently, like a ghost. He is more careful now. She is suspicious. The woman reaches the door, opens it, walks inside.
The man follows her.
She closes the door and lights the fire. She goes upstairs. The man slips in. The woman comes down. The man hides again. She cooks dinner and eats. Has a shower and goes to bed.
The man creeps upstairs. Raids her purse. Steal her silver. Snatches her pearls. Takes her gold. Her jewellery. Her credit cards. Her phone. Creeps downstairs.
Quiet.
Unseen.
Gets a match. Lights it. Puts it to the curtains. He slips outside. Walks away.
Quiet.
Unseen.
The gas lights burn dimly.