In The Window

In The Window

Cookie Markham loved doing things with her friends. By mutual agreement, she and her gang took turns deciding what to do each day. Today was her turn.

“I want to go to the deserted subdivision that never got finished on the outside of town,” she told them when they met in the park.

“I think that place is eerie,” said one doubtfully.

“I don’t like it there!” another confessed.

“Cookie’s choice today. Let’s go!” urged the third.

“Maybe we can find a way into one of the houses this time,” Cookie said as she led the way.

Mounting their bikes, the group sped off. Before long they were at the make-shift entrance to what was touted as a luxury gated community.

“Look you can still read the billboards! Cookie pointed out.

They squeezed through the wire gate and began checking the few houses that had been built as model homes. All the doors and windows were closed tight and couldn’t be budged.

“This is getting boring,” Cookie was about to say, when one of her gang gasped.

“I saw a hand in that window!” The rest of them laughed and scoffed.

“It waved at me!” the one who had seen it, swore.

“Well, it’s not there anymore,” Cookie said.

“It’s getting late, let’s head back.”

There was no answer. Cookie whirled to find her three friends were gone, bikes and all.

“This is some kind of joke,” she told herself and began to call her friends’ names over and over as she rode up and down the streets. Nothing. Panicked, she rode swiftly to get help.

Her friends were crowded together in the doorway of one house. Suddenly a cold hand touched each of their shoulders and they screamed. Cookie was too far away to hear them.