Lucy Caplice

Hauntingly Generous

Hauntingly Generous A Children’s Story By Lucy Caplice The wind hit Jo hard as she walked briskly up the cobblestone road. The harsh London weather was constant, but she was used to it. Turning a corner, she was given some relief, both to be out of the wind, and at seeing of her little brick house. Her lips formed a small smile as she approached it, barely glancing at the other, identical houses, lined up either side. The door lock clicked, and Jo stepped inside. She breathed in the familiarity of home and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Against a wall was a bookshelf filled with records and CDs. An old piano keyboard sat in front of the window, the sunlight pouring in reflected brightly upon it. In one corner stood a computer desk, in front of it a nice computer chair. A small wooden table beside it was covered in clothes, all neatly folded; warm hoodies in varying colours, soft leggings, and smatterings of denim. Jo took off her thick avocado winter coat and threw it on top of the pile, glancing at her reflection in a simple black framed mirror on the back of the door as she closed it. She was thin, athletic, and tall. Her black hair, cut short, made no impression, nor did her pale blue eyes. She was non-descript. A purple candle sat in the corner of the computer desk, and next to it rested a white electric guitar. Jo took out small silver earrings and placed them delicately on the desk and sat down in the chair. Looking down, she picked up a little black notebook, and flicked it open to a bookmarked page. Sighing, she re-read the page.