That Woman In Red

Where she goes nobody knows. Where she lived nobody dares go. Her backyard was the forest. A secret maze of tall ominous looking trees hide her cottage from the rest. And whenever young Marie would see a dark red diaphanous long dress or a red velvet coat she wears. Her eyes towards the horizon. Her gait confident, oblivious of everyone around her.

“ I want to wear a dress in that color.”  Marie told her mother one day when she saw the woman in the town. She looked suspiciously at the woman. “ Men never marry a woman in red. They want women in pastels.”  Marie frowned.  “But men do sure like women in red.” She remarked. Her mother snorted.  Marie can see men ogling the woman in red. The woman would occasionally  look at the men sideways and the men would have an expression Marie thought indecent.

“She doesn’t have any friends in the town,” Lilian said while drawing circles in the sand with her fingers. Marie copied her and drew a heart and wrote  the name John in it.

“Mother seems to hate her. But father always have a dreamy look every time they would talk about her.” Continue reading