On This Side Of The Door

Written in response to The Sunday Whirl.  This time, came out story-shaped.
Maeve hung cloth fish in bright patterns on that screen door, the one separating the two worlds. Who wanted to look into the abyss all day? Not Maeve. No one entered through the door all spring. This was a relief. Maeve began to relax, slept better in the long afternoons before her nightly prowl. One morning, halfway through July, she came home tired, found Jenny in the kitchen, humming and baking cinnamon bread, no answer at all to where she’d been gone for so long. They ate the bread with honey and mugs of Earl Grey that burned the tongue because they couldn’t wait. Maeve and Jenny talked through the whole day. Neither mentioned the missing fish, bartered away for flour and tea. No talk of why the white flowers hung there now, though Maeve worried over who might be summoned by the mingled scents of tea and toast, white lilacs, white gardenias.