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Something was in her house; she could feel it. It had a cold vibe, a chilling vibe. The air practically shimmered with malevolence.
The sensation disturbed her, for this was her house. Her space. How dare something invade it?
She pressed her toe more firmly against the hardwood floor, and the rocking chair beneath her picked up its pace. The squeak from the chair’s old joints was annoying, but familiar. The familiarity should have comforted her, but she was too distressed to find any comfort in an old routine. The darkness in the air pressed heavily upon her soul.
It was an unwanted, untimely distraction.
She clenched the arms of the rocker more tightly. She couldn’t afford to let this new disturbance get in her way. Not when she was this close to accomplishing her goal. Not when she’d waited for so long.
A gust of wind shook the porthole window in front of her, and she looked out over her beloved countryside. Summer had gone on its merry way, and autumn had settled in. The leaves on the trees were brightening. The air was crisper, heavier. Soon, even that would be gone. Winter winds would roll in, and they would bite, snap, and howl.
Yes, the winds of change were coming, and she had to be ready—for this might be her last chance.
The rocker came to an abrupt halt. There was only one thing to do. The dark spirit had to go. It would simply have to move along, because she wouldn’t allow it to stay.
Not here. Not in her house.
Not now.