The mahogany table

It was a small home, tiny actually.

Though the doors inside were many.

She walked through the house her finger tips barely touching the doors.

Her face landed upon a heavy solid door with black metal hinges, thick enough to support the barriers weight.

A small window with bars and a latch set at eye level, it showed inside without opening the door.

Upon opening the window she saw a great mahogany table with many chairs all empty.

Closing the window she hears, from the other side of the door many talking, laughing and feasting.

Quickly opening the window she looks inside, only to see no one.

Closing the latch the noise began again.

Heart pounding, hands shaking she longs to open the door and discover the party trick, for herself.

But could she bare to see what or who for that matter would or would not be on the other side.

With her hands against the solid wood she could hear the noise growing louder. It was a song they sang.

It was someone’s birthday!

Unable to wait any longer she threw open the door, expecting to hear…

Empty, not a sound could be heard but whispering.


“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…” she whispered while walking slowly to the table in disbelief.

She had hoped to find family and friends smiling back at her, instead she was alone in the end.


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A fly away day dreamer happily grounded by a child on each foot and a wonderful husband who always has my back. So I write my daydreams for now until our children develop wings of their own.

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