Gemotions

The sound jolted him awake. Thomas, a light sleeper, sat bolt upright in bed. His wife, Emily, stirred beside him but remained asleep. He listened intently. It had been a deep rumble, almost guttural. He threw back the covers and padded to the window.

He peered out. He had expected a car crash, perhaps a particularly boisterous party next door. He had NOT expected to see the Petersons' towering pine, formerly a proud sentinel, lying flat across their garden.

He swallowed hard. He felt a chill, despite the warm summer night. His fingers tightened around the window frame. “Well, I never,” he muttered under his breath, still trying to grasp what he was seeing.