It was not one of those times. She was wary now. When she first looked out of the window, there was always the danger that it would be one of those days. Patti always had to take a deep breath and pause before she tentatively lifted the corner of the curtain and peered out….
Just in case….
However, today, she sighed and allowed herself the luxury of pulling the curtains back. It looked normal out there this morning and that was always good.
Well, nearly always. After all, there had been that time when….
She glanced back over her shoulder, but everything outside looked normal, ordinary, everyday.
Perhaps too everyday.
Patti edged back towards the window. She pressed her back against the wall next to the window and craned around to look outside.
The street looked much as it always did, or much as it had done before… well, before it all started.
However, it looked a bit too quiet out there now. By this time, several of her neighbours should be up and about, going about their daily lives.
Unless it was a weekend?
That was sometimes a problem for Patti, being a writer working from home did mean that she occasionally lost track of what day it was.
As well as losing track of a few other things as well.
One of the dangers of being a fantasy writer was… well, the danger that such a powerful, well-trained and highly honed imagination could – sometimes – get a little out of hand.
After all, as everyone knows – or ought to know – the mind creates so much of what we like to think of as an exterior objective reality.
Patti stared, trying to peer over into the back garden of number 22 opposite.
Something was moving over there, she was sure of it.
She risked moving a little closer to the window. She wiped the glass in irritation as her breath steamed it up.
It was there. There was something out there, moving.
Patti sighed. She would – as usual – get the blame for it. After the first time, after the initial disbelief, now her neighbours knew who to come to, whom to blame, when… well, when reality slipped sideways a little.
Patti left the curtain fall back into place. She would have to miss her shower this morning. Jack and Greta at number 22 could get a bit funny about things like that. Last time it had happened, they hadn’t stopped complaining about the scorch marks on their lawn for weeks.
Patti sighed and went off to get her lance, hoping she could get across the road and shoo off the dragon before it set fire to her neighbour’s lawn… again.
Sometimes, she wished she wrote realistic fiction instead, even though she found it a bit too dull at times.