Saturday, 3:15 am

I'm awakened by something I cannot truly explain. An eerie silence. The kind of silence usually reserved for the deaf, or the dead.

Sitting up in bed, I listen intently. Straining to hear something, anything, that will explain my uneasy feeling. What had awakened me?

Nothing. In the woods, stretching far beyond our house, all is silent. Not an insect, a bat, a night bird, or animal of any kind makes a peep.

I climb to my feet and shove my freezing toes into a pair of night slippers. Sleep still fogs my mind, as I stumble drunkenly to the window. Clouds fill the night sky, and obscure any view of the moon. On the ground, below, all motion has ceased.

After a few moments of staring at nothing, I shake my head at my foolishness. More than likely there is rain on the way. Most animals had sense enough to seek shelter before a bad storm. Nothing more to it than that. With my mind made up, I turn back to the bed. And that is when I hear it.

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A sound like the sharp intake of breath. Except, this breath would have to be taken by the biggest giant in creation. The sound is followed by a deep hum, and then a loud whistle.

I turn back to the window, just in time to catch sight of the first--of many--small meteors. Bright yellow in color, they silently streak across the night sky. A strong wind whips through the crabgrass. The blades are whipped so violently that many are ripped loose and tumble away. Trees bend slightly and sway under the weight of the sudden gale. The sound of branches scratching against bark wafts to my ears. The creaking of wooden joints loud in the night air.

I almost call out to Tilda, but I am rooted to the floor in awe. Then, just as quickly as the meteor shower began, it is all over. The wind dies down not long after. The grass and the trees settle into their rightful places. All is once again silent.

I continue to stand at the window, listening for more sounds. Human sounds. Explosions, sirens, wails, shots in the night, or car horns. Anything to signal that the world is coming to an end. Nothing.

I wait a whole ten minutes. Then, I glance at the clock, check my phone feed, and climb back into bed. All is well. But boy, what a show!