I woke for no reason from strangely blissful dreams, my eyes adjusting quickly to the dark of our room. Michael slept against me, his huge arm around my waist, one hand splayed across my belly. He should have woken to any disturbance before I did. Yet of the two of us, I woke, not to sound or movement or anything I could understand, but more to a pressure in the air. A feeling, growing from my abdomen under Michael’s palm and spreading up my veins with the shock of the purest Liquid Silver, disturbed my dreams and lifted my head. The feeling told of an unwelcome darkness.

Written by 2003 Fiction Contest Winner, Elizabeth Petersen