A Short story: Part 1

It was a full moon night. The silver rays of the moon flooded the bedroom in a dim grey glow. Cool breeze accompanied the rays as they entered from the window by the desk. She pulled the covers closer to her body as the night air caressed her sleeping form.

As the night progressed, the room got colder, much more than what would be normal for that time of the year. The drop in temperature roused the lady in the room from her sleep. She looked towards the window, the only source of fresh air in the room, for any signs of frost or snow.

None.

She climbed out of bed and walked towards it. Leaning over her desk, she peered down at the empty streets. So much for a bustling city life, only to die down by night. The orange glow from the streetlamps reflected off the damp road.

Satisfied with what she had seen, she shut the window and walked back to her bed, once again getting comfortable under the warm sheets.

A while passed and she felt her skin prickling at the chilly night air. It took a few seconds for the feeling to be processed through her slumber mind and her eyes opened, darting straight towards the window.

It was wide open. The pale blue curtains fluttering in the breeze.

She shot up from the bed, heart picking up its pace. She clearly remembered shutting it. Her mind raced at a thousand possibilities as to why it was open again, each thought trying its best to sound logical and agreeable. She stood rooted to the ground, staring at the window, her senses alert.

Silence. It was all that surrounded her. That ruled out anyone breaking in. Moreover, she thought to herself, if anyone were to break in through the window, they would have to cross the first obstacle that would stand in their way; her messy, cluttered desk. And no one would go through that without making a ruckus. And she was a light sleeper.

To further solidify her reasoning, she quickly walked to the desk and noticed everything being in its original place, though it would seem, to an outsider, as if everything were out of place in the haphazard heap of stationary.

Her fears calmed a little. Only a little, still puzzled at the open window. Unable to come up with a reason, and unwilling to think of anything supernatural, she shut the window again, this time, bolting it. She stood there staring at the bolt as if challenging it to open. Feeling satisfied with it, she walked to the large bed and pulled the covers off. There was no way she would catch a wink in this room for the night. As she was bundling the fluffy covers in her arms, the edge of one knocked a small bottle off the nightstand. It hit the wooden floor in a low thud, the sound making her jump. She dropped the sheets on the bed and bent to pick the bottle up.

Black letters on the white label indicated that the contents of the bottle would help those with anxiety. Her medication. It was recently prescribed by her doctor, who had also responsibly informed her about certain side effects. Though she didn’t recall anything about hallucinations, she was now willing to blame it all on those pills; she must have imagined closing the window while still in her sleep. Completely acceptable occurrence.

Throwing the covers back on the bed, for the third time that night, she climbed back in and hoped sleep would take over soon before the dawn broke and a new day began.