Awake, I lay in bed staring at the barely visible ceiling fan. Moonlight leaking through the window blinds illuminates a picture of my late husband Martin, adorned in a military uniform. It was hard to sleep on nights like these. I would give anything to feel his warm embrace to make me feel safe.
Martin knew that I never wanted to move here. However, it was hard to tell the twinkle in his eye and the slight smirk he carried when excited about something, no. Now I was left alone in a rustic cabin in northern Maine. Miles away from my nearest neighbor.
Something was somewhat different tonight though. A tinge of unease had settled over the property. I remove my comforter off my body and slowly crawl on the bed to the nearest window. Imperceptibly, I move the blinds over to look around outside. Deep in the forest I was met by two eyes reflecting the moonlight. It seemed to be staring right at me. Releasing the blinds, I hastily scoot back onto my headboard with comforter pulled up to my neck. Then I laughed. How silly was I to get so worked up over what was probably a raccoon.
Morning came and I started my usual routine. Drinking coffee and enjoying the view from the back deck. Dew covered the grass and the spider web clinging to the chair where Martin used to sit with me. With a sudden crash, leaves and sticks were thrown up into the air about fifty meters into the woods. Standing to my feet knocking my coffee over, I gasped. Silence emanated from woods. No birds, no insects, just silence.
Whatever it had been, must have been very large. Maybe a deer or black bear. Making my way inside the cabin, I stop and observe through the glass storm door. The wind picks up autumn leaves in a vortex, hurling them across the backyard. Closing the wooden door I thought, it was probably time I asked for anxiety medication from my doctor.
In the late evening, I stoke the fireplace and settle into the couch with a warm cup of Earl Gray. With a quilt draped around my lower half and wearing one of Martin’s hoodies, it was time for me to continue reading my mystery novel.
Slowly, that uneasy feeling had returned, pulling me away from reading. I searched my thoughts, wondering why I kept getting this same feeling time and time again. Looking out the window past the fireplace, night had set in.
While looking upon a certain tree’s silhouette, I could swear I don’t remember the tree being so bushy towards the top. As a matter of fact, I was sure that particular tree was bare and housed a nest to a lone Red-Tailed Hawk towards the top. It was at this point that the top of the tree twisted around and those same reflective eyes glared into my living room. I sat frozen, unable to move. The figure then jumped onto another neighboring tree and slid down out of view.