Today I awoke at 3am apropos of nothing.
My eyes snapped open and I stared at the dark ceiling, taking inventory of who I was and where I was and what had woken me.
I could hear the tap dripping in the bathroom and the electric hum of the furnace in the background.
I got out of bed, bracing myself to prepare for the chill of the floor on my bare feet… but they felt warm… sun-warm if such a thing is possible.
I shuffled over to the window and opened the thick velvety curtains – the moonlight poured down on the blanket of snow and the stars twinkled into the chilly sky.
It had stopped snowing.
I’ve been here a week and this is the first time I’ve opened these blinds to a clear sky – I felt the absence of the falling flakes. It’s like when the a radio is suddenly snapped off the relief of the quiet captures you.
I took a deep breath and then I saw it.
A slow parade of slim forms making their way through the trees at the back of the property.
I had just been there a few days ago and seen no evidence of passage – not even animals, but here were six or seven thin bodies alternately loping and skipping along.
They seemed to pause for a moment and I felt the attention of the group turn to my house.
I pulled the curtains closed and dove to the floor.
I caught my rapidly beating heart and tried to steady my breath before pulling aside the curtains at the base and looking out.
There was nothing there.
I shook myself off and went downstairs to put the kettle on the stove – I’m probably just seeing things – this is more isolation than I’m used to.