It Was Very Unfamiliar - Jeff Thomas

The wind swirled, shaking the stand of trees in the crisp moonlight. Margaret sat on her porch swing, gazing out at the tempest. The house behind her was dark, the family inside, asleep. A strong breeze blew on to the porch and across the skin of her bare arms. She shivered and rubbed the goose-pimply flesh. Long strands of auburn hair floated around her face; she’d stopped trying to tuck them behind her ear. As the tree branches clanked and sighed, she felt of tickle of excitement in her belly. She’d been pulled out of a deep sleep and drawn to this place. The thin nightie she wore struck her as insufficient, but she dared not move. She was here to receive a message, bodily or spiritually and this certainty kept her in this spot. She wasn’t scared, just expectant. Suddenly she heard a loud crack and a puff of wind directly to her face made her gasp and close her eyes. When she opened, she realized that everything about her appeared strikingly new: the house, the yard, the stand of trees, her body. This was the message she was to receive. A change was going to take place, had already taken place and she was prepared, had even played an instrumental role in it. Margaret smiled and stood gracefully from the swing. She turned and walked back into the house.