My husband left for work as usual, and I
couldn’t think of anything to do. I sat alone
in the chair by the window, staring out at the
garden through the gap between the curtains.
Not that I had any reason to be looking at
the garden: There was nothing else for me to
do. And I thought that sooner or later, if I sat
there looking, I might think of something.
Of all the many things in the garden, the one
I looked at most was the oak tree. It was my
special favorite. I had planted it when I was a
little girl, and watched it grow. I thought of it
as my old friend. I talked to it all the time in
my head.
That day, too, I was probably talking to the
oak tree-I don’t remember what about. And I
don’t know how long I was sitting there. The
time slips by when I’m looking at the garden.
It was dark before I knew it: I must have been
there quite a while. Then, all at once, I heard
a sound. It came from somewhere far away-a
funny, muffled sort of rubbing sort of sound.
At first I thought it was coming from a place
deep inside me, that I was hearing things-a
warning from the dark cocoon my body was
spinning within. I held my breath and listened. Yes. No doubt about it. Little by little,
the sound was moving closer to me. What was
it? I had no idea. But it made my flesh creep.
The ground near the base of the tree began
to bulge upward as if some thick, heavy liquid
were rising to the surface. Again I caught my
breath. Then the ground broke open and the
mounded earth crumbled away to reveal a set
of sharp claws. My eyes locked onto them, and
my hands turned into clenched fists. Something’s going to happen, I said to myself. It’s
starting now. The claws scraped hard at the
soil, and soon the break in the earth was an