A safe return by Mikaela Miyamoto

Mikaela is writing a bunch of short stories for 13 Days 13 Shorts this year! To check out more stuff from Mikaela, visit www.mikaelamiyamoto.com

note from Mikaela: I've started posting videos of me reading the stories on TikTok and you might start to catch some extra clues to the overarching storyline! You can check them out here: https://www.tiktok.com/@kaelamiyamoto?_t=ZP-90wjbC3IF8J&_r=1

I’m beginning to suspect my grandmother is in on it. That she’s keeping me here for some reason. If it’s even her. But she remembers everything my grandmother would and she still feels like my grandmother? I don’t know anymore. But she did something terrifying today. When I woke up this morning there was a small toad at the foot of my bed. I wear contacts and am practically blind without them so I had no idea what it was. When it did a small hop I almost let out a shriek, but I held it in. I brought my face right up next to it so I could see, which in hindsight is a horrible idea but I was still half asleep. I’m lucky that all it did was sit there while I observed it. After a few minutes it hopped off my bed and sat near the door, like it was waiting for me. So I grabbed my glasses and stood by it. It began a slow but steady journey out my bedroom door, down the hall, past the bookshelf, until it landed in front of the pale blue door that appeared the other day. Then it just sat there. Waiting. I watched for at least another ten minutes, wondering what it would do next and still, nothing. I sighed and left. This sort of thing seemed almost normal at this point. And I just wasn’t ready to open that door. I got dressed for the day and when I went to check on it, it was gone. I searched the hallway, my bedroom, even the family room that’s so underused it’s covered in dust. I couldn’t find it. I almost waved it off as if it was just a silly dream I’d had until later that evening. My grandmother called everyone to dinner and said we had a special treat that night. She’d had a delivery made to make an old dish she hadn’t eaten in years. I watched in horror as she set a shiny, metal serving dish on the table that was piled high with what appeared to be fried frog legs. “They’re such slippery little creatures that they can be hard to catch. But they taste absolutely delicious!” she declared, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.