Amanda woke up with a start. Shaking off her sleep, she listened. “Odd,” she thought. The home was quiet.  The silence, in fact,  woke her up. She looked around the living room, walked to the kitchen, listening. She suppressed the worry that was worming into her head. She went up the steps and checked the rooms upstairs.  Quiet.  Everything was  quiet. Her heart started to thump on her chest. This absence of activity in her house was disconcerting her.



Her voice echoed in the house as she called her little children.

“Where are you kids?”

Nobody answered.



She cried louder. By now she was back downstairs and at the door. It was unlocked. She went out to the backyard. There was nothing outside but the scattered toys from the children’s morning play and the roar of cars speeding on the road.

Panic was surging inside her. Her stomach was knotted. She ran into the house and  grabbed the phone from the counter.  With shaking hands, she  punched 911. Her thumb was just about to press “talk” when she heard a crash from somewhere in the house. The sound brought her to the pantry. As quiet as a mouse, she opened the door. Two pairs of startled brown eyes peeking from crumby faces stared at her. On the floor were the remains of the cookie jar and chocolate chip cookies that she baked the other day.

Soon, two messy faces were washed and cleaned and marched down to their beds for a very long nap.


I wrote this piece for Trifecta: Week Forty-One.  The word is ‘Absence, i.e., want, lack.

I am glad to be able to play this time.  After I finished a writing assignment for Studio30+ (I am sorry for the shameless plug),  some ideas for the prompt flowed and I was able to follow through with one.

12 thoughts on “(DIS)QUIET

    1. Thank you. 🙂 As I was telling Brain and Tessa, I am too cowardly to bring harm to anyone aside from the cookies. My motherly heart cannot take it and I will have nightmares about it – just as I have whenever I read about bad things happening to little children.

      1. Imelda, I agree with the horror of bad things happening to little children. Even fiction movies and books tear me apart when I read about little children being harmed physically, terrorized or killed. However, even as a non-violent person, I can kill off my fictional adult characters without guilt, especially if they deserve it. 🙂

      2. Same here, Tessa. My husband prevents me from reading those ugly things because I get overly distraught. I think I may have not much qualms about ‘killing’ a story character specially at the beginning of a narrative when I have not fallen in love with the character yet. 🙂

  1. I can remember hiding and getting caught with my hands in the cookie jar. And my mom’s response was a little more disquieting than in your narrative! Your word-sketch was very well written and kept my attention…

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