Nightgowls: A Narrative Fiction

nightgown does not cover her arms completely. She tries to quickly cover up her arms with the blanket, but Mrs. Rebecca continues to glare at her with a look of disdain.
“I did not mean to impose. I just wanted to bring you some food because you have been sleeping for so long, but I do have a friend who can help you with those bruises,” Mrs. Rebecca tells her.
“No, it is fine,” Jasmine begins.
“Edna has great ointments. It will make those bruises go away faster, so you will not have to worry about them anymore. I will give you Edna’s address, when you bring down the dishes.”
Jasmine walks to Edna’s house following the directions scribbled on a half sheet of paper. The confinement and emptiness of the town makes it easy for Jasmine to locate the small cottage, lying nestled between four large trees, a stepping stone path leading up towards the steps of the front porch, which hold a lone rocking chair. Jasmine takes a deep breath and raps on the door.
My name is Jasmine, Rebecca sent me and said you would be able to give me medicine,” Jasmine says.
The door creaks open slowly and a short white curly haired woman pops her head through the crack. The woman glares at Jasmine with her black beady eyes, “What is your ailment?”
The next thing Jasmine realizes is that Edna is ushering her into a small room of the house filled with shelves and shelves of glass jars and bottles with many strange looking liquids. Jasmine squirms in the soft seat.
“I’m not so...” Jasmine begins.
“Nonsense. I have the prefect ointment for bruises,” Edna assures