Gemotions

The prickling sensation on Martha's skin was unbearable. She had been attempting to watch TV, but the images blurred before her eyes. The house had seemed too still, the silence too complete, until the abrupt, explosive sound shattered the illusion. The old sycamore tree, a landmark for generations, had finally given in.

A wave of dizziness washed over her. She gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles white. She felt a desperate need to be elsewhere, to be free of the growing tension. She felt the sensation of being watched.

She got up and walked to the window. Her hands trembled as she clutched the sill. She was gripped by a growing sense of dread. The image of the tree, sprawled across the fence, was seared into her memory. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then another, and another, struggling to regain some semblance of control.