Annabelle Is Gone

Florence Higginbotham rose from her bed. She knew it was the beginning of a new life, a new life without Annabelle. Her sudden departure was emotive. So many years together, and now an insurmountable void.

Learning to live with her absence, she would. She walked up to Annabelle's bedroom and remembered her as a loving child. Annabelle was her first and only child. After those sixteen hours of labor, she knew childbirth was not in her list of experiences to repeat. Yet, she was certain that Annabelle was a gift of life she would cherish forever.

Overwhelming memories of times long gone made her heart crimp. And through the window, the sun rays illuminated the walls with a warm glow. The bed was neat, a few items on the floor as she rummaged through her belongings, with the excitement of a new life.

Rarefied was how the empty home felt without Annabelle. Florence picked up a framed photo from the desk. That lovely, inviting smile made you want to hug her. Her long, glistening black hair everybody loved. In that photo, she also wore a red shirt with blue jeans and those shiny black boots she wore so often. The nostalgia threatened to become unbearable. But the thought that Annabelle was in a good place appeased her feelings.

She couldn't help looking at her daughter's boots, a smile drawn in her face. “She always feared sandals like a punishment,” she thought. The few times she bought her a pair, she would growl “I ain't going to wear that!,” and a few days later one of them would suffer irreparable damage. Yes, it was difficult raising her alone. “And that cute piercing! Always ready to make a statement.” Florence caressed the picture, ignoring the cold-as-death protective glass at her fingertips.

Enshrined by the mirror, she found a different photo. Annabelle's best friend hugged her. “Always elegant, like me,” Florence thought.

“Anthony is a phenomenal lad,” she smiled at his hand holding her daughter's.

Nothing in life prepared her for this moment. Florence looked up and breathed deep before exhaling the scent permeating the bedroom. “Our favorite fragrance,” she thought, remembering the first vial she gave her.

Curiosity killed the cat, or so she used to say. At times, she compared Annabelle to a curious kitten. Sometimes downright annoying. Now, it was her moment of curiosity. She walked towards the closet and opened it. A few clothes remained, but all her shoes were gone. In a dark corner, an object called her attention. She stared at a white, angled tubular thing almost 3 feet long.

“I can't believe she still has this!” Florence looked at a plaster leg cast decorated with colorful signatures and phrases; almost no spot was free. But not a tiny smudge of dirt. She despised germs and anything that didn't seem clean.“Funny she keeps it, it was a terrible time for her,” Florence recalled.

Emblazoned on the upper thigh of the cast, an 'I Love You' scribbling with Anthony's signature. Her heart warmed, and her eyes sparkled as she imagined the whole scene.  She moved it away and held it as if she was still there. Two generations of completely different broken damsels were what came to her mind. 

“They were just friends, weren't they?,” she thought. She looked again at the thigh end with the 'I love you' sign and frowned.  She felt like ants were invading her stomach.  Now, that name next to the scribbling, Anthony's, disturbed her with a sudden realization. 

“Like father, like son. They are siblings, for Christ's sake!” And just like that, all the nostalgia faded away, replaced by the urgency of the matter. They had to be stopped! 

Despite the fact that I published this micro-fiction here, it is not in the public domain. This is previous, re-edited work to see how it goes. I am also publishing some of my fiction writing on this platform. I wanted to add better formatting, but unfortunately, the Vocal editor is not too flexible, especially when it comes to images.