Around the ‘witching hour’ it woke me up. Some torrent of air was cascading across the world and suddenly I was no longer safe asleep.
It came with a booming. A long exhale of frustration that was meant to punish. Too long had they been in their beds, wrapped up against the elements. On this night, roof tiles would fly, trees would fall, and ships would claw against the surface of the sea, pleading.
I lay in my bed, incapable to drowning out the thing outside. It was a giant that was walking the world. It was a Titan come to take revenge and, while he wandered the streets and fields, I counted to twenty; a mantra that had long-since failed.