By Annabel Thomas
Publication via Thomas, Annabel
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Extra resources for The phototropic woman
Afterwards Bob smoked his pipe on the porch, watching the clouded western sky which remained red long after the sun had set. Late that night Margaret awoke to find that the light in the hall was not burning. She sat up, wide awake, and called out but no one came. It was strangely close and hot. Sweat trickled down the child's neck from under the short fine cloud of her hair. '' No one answered. And "Ma, Ma," the child called again kicking her thin short legs over the edge of the bed and sliding to the floor in the dark.
Soon she would jump onto their backs and ride to a far country. When they came at last, windows would go up, sashes slamming. People would stick out their heads, crying to one another, "The horses! " and from the doors the scoffers would run, pouring onto the lawns, stumbling in their hurry, racing, sprinting after the horses. But Jerusha and the horses would flash away like fire in a wind leaving only the hoof-raised dust settling on their faces as they moved about left behind amongst the steaming droppings.
The other one had picked up the pistol from the table. As Jarvie reached out to touch Wileem the other one shot him down with his own pistol. He fell hard. He flopped on the linoleum floor but scrambled up again almost at once, gone cold sober, swearing and bleeding. He grabbed the pistol from the other one's hand and jammed it into his pocket. "Every goddamn female bitch in this stinking house is crazy as a fuckin' bedbug," he shouted, holding his arm. He took another frowning stare around the kitchen and walked to the door where he said, "So long, Honeybabe.
The phototropic woman by Annabel Thomas