Writing Prompt No. 21
The last time she checked, the shadows had reached the house.
They were growing longer every day. And it wasn’t just the change in season or time of day that was the problem. The problem was the sun was drifting further away becoming lower in the sky. She’d been watching this phenomenon through the telescope she’d set up on the deck that faced south, one floor up from the garden. She’d made notes about planets and satellites, angles and trajectories, yet something didn’t make sense.
The air was unusually cool for this time of year and the moon larger at night. But it was the shadows that made her anxious. Instead of getting shorter as they headed into summer, they were becoming longer. Some days it felt as if they were creeping over the house to engulf her.
There was no wind. None for twenty-one days. She’d kept count in a notebook thick with scribbles and calculations. Endless problems with no solutions. She was exhausted. Who should she tell? Would they think her mad? She’s been taking her meds so that would be unfair. Still. She was worried.
Occasionally the shadows would tremble in the windless air.
She flicked the switch of the kettle. The sound of water boiling was familiar and comforting. A sound that never changed. She reached for a mug from the cupboard and a tea-bag from the caddy. This morning, she thought, I will make up my mind.
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