8th June 2018

Night

My eyes flutter open and slowly adjusts in the sombre light. My eyelids are heavy as I try to make out the shapes through my frosted window. I gather up my blankets and pillow and shuffle across to the window. Dropping my blankets in a messy heap, I bundle myself up on the floor. I turn my head to the side to look at the numbers painted across the clock, reading two forty-five. Peering out of the window I can see the faint shapes of snowflakes settling on the mossy ground. The house across the street for some strange reason is completely lit up, contrasting in the murkiness. The wind wrestles with the tree leaves, making a sort of hissing sound. Shadows jump from tree to tree, my eyes try to follow them but it’s too late and my body starts to sink back into the drowsiness. I close my eyes.

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Writing