On every window pane in every room we found two horizontal strips of black tape, the lower one always slightly wider than the one above.
After two days of packing up my late Aunt’s house, I had to know. ‘Mum, what do they mean?’
My mother trailed a finger over one dark line, muttering, ‘Eyes.’ She stroked the line below. ‘Mouth.’
The house fell silent, as if listening.
‘Mum?’ I breathed.
She tugged her cardigan around her, suddenly chilled. ‘Perhaps your aunt thought if they were blind and mute, they couldn’t hurt her again. Seems she was wrong.’
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. Just sneaked in under the wire for last week’s prompt, but if you’d like to join in there’ll be another picture tomorrow. See here to join the fun.
The title is a twist on both a thriller by Agatha Christie and a collection of Gothic tales by J Sheridan le Fanu.