Miss Black

Children / Horror
First Draft

There was once a woman staring out from a very tall window in a very tall building. She felt very comfortable staring from so high above because she was very tall herself. She had forgotten her name, although she still remembered everything else that happened on the day she’d forgotten it… but all of that was so long ago that it didn’t even bother her anymore — it was just a name. What’s the meaning of a name, anyway?

Instead, she developed the habit of calling herself after the moods of each day. Not her moods, that was much too hard to figure out, but the moods of the weather she saw each day, on the other side of that tall window, in that very tall building.

Some days she was Miss Cloudy. And when the sun first came out after a rainy night she would think of herself as Miss Sunny. And when she couldn’t sleep and came to stare out the window to pitch black, she would whisper,

“Here I am. I’m Miss Black.”

Because Miss Black had looked at the weather for many nights and many days, people from all over town started to go up to the tower to ask her questions about the clouds. How fast were they moving? How dark were they turning? How soon would it rain?

Miss Black found all these questions intriguing, not because they were hard to answer (she always knew all the answers) but because she thought everyone could predict the weather just by looking out of their windows. She decided to make the best of it and realized that, for the first time, she had something interesting to say to people. Whenever anyone came to visit, Miss Black talked about the weather: how it had been a week ago, how it would be a week from now. This arrangement made everyone happy because now they could plan their weeks better.

Everyone knew exactly when was the best day to have a party in the park; everyone could plan on each Sunday all the outfits they would wear for each day of the week until the next Sunday; and soon enough all the changes that were happening in town with everyone’s schedules reached Miss Black’s ears, and although she had never really cared about how anyone dressed up to that point, curiosity got to her one day — the day she looked down from her tower!

It was suppose to be just a glance, to last a few seconds at best, and in her thoughts the words — the warning words! — came glued together like a mantra, “Look up! Look-to-the-clouds-look-up!”, but so many things seemed wrong with the way people were dressed that she just couldn’t stop looking down, until her neck started to stretched with the weight of all the thoughts in her head, and she had to catch it with her hands and straighten herself up.

Why was it, she thought, that on a day of clear open skies like on that day, people were walking around with a scarf and a heavy coat over their arms? Did she made a mistake? Had she predicted the wrong weather for that day? Had she failed to explain her calculations to the town, one week ago? Had she spoken too fast?


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