An excerpt from a new short story I’m working on:
They say it’s impossible to feel the Earth’s rotation, but standing in the meadow, the last rays of the setting sun warming my face, I feel it. I glance at my clients, sitting on the orange couch (because Victorian red velvet is so yesterday) and I wonder if they feel it, too.
The Earth is turning toward darkness and there is nothing I can do about it.
And maybe I don’t feel it as much as I hear it: an almost imperceptible ticking, like a time bomb counting down. I feel the darkness closing in, creeping ever closer.
I have mere minutes before I lose my light source and we aren’t close to being finished. This family of 8 will not be together again for years. They are counting on me. ME! I have no idea what to do. And really, nobody would. That thought gives me comfort.