The First Attempt

Jane edged her index finger along the shelf, touching the spine of each familiar book as she passed. A gentle breeze ruslted the curtains in the window and she drew back immediately, stiffening with some unknown fear.

There was an undeniable electricity circulating in the air, gripping Jane tenderly in its grasp and drawing her closer to the open window. She sighed drowsily through the dank humidity, touching a cold hand to her moist forehead, searching out each step in front of her.

The window taunted her as she drew closer with each unbalanced step. Jane peered out to the tree outside and took in its scent with closed eyes. She continued to breathe in, searching out each scent, the tree, the grass, the sweet smell of bread baking from the kitchen downstairs.

Jane put one bare foot on the window ledge, bracing herself against the wall, then climed up entirely, crouched in the windowsill. Her white dress flapped mercilessly in the wind. She didn't look down. She just slowly leaned forward, and closed her eyes.

And with a dull thud and a horrified shriek from the maid hanging laundry outside to dry, everything went black.

The End

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