A Dove for Eddy
Published by Sherry Elliott
Copyright 2010 Sherry Elliott
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The screech of the faulty doorbell sounded throughout the house. Eddy trembled, her knees wobbling beneath her. “It’s not Friday.” Joe always delivered her groceries on Friday, and he always used the backdoor. Eddy peered over her crooked shoulder at the entryway. The door seemed so far away. “Who else could it be?”
“Hey la-la-ady, Are you in th- there?” Some unknown, prepubescent voice stammered from beyond the door.
She smoothed her soiled duster and set her shuffle steps cautiously. “Better not be those pesky kids again,” she mumbled, as she ran her hands over her fuzzy, gray hair. “Who is it?” she barked from behind the triple latched barricade. There was no answer. She licked the tip of her nicotine-stained thumb and cleaned the peephole. Balancing on her tiptoes, she looked out.