In The Hour of Mars, On The Day of Surgat, the Moon a Crescent:

I sat down, shaken by the encounter I had faced in the woods, and not sure whether a threat lingered or whether it had all been some kind of misunderstanding. With every passing hour the danger seemed to dissipate, and the hazelwood wand seemed to gleam with the sheen of having triumphed over adversity.

Grey clouds and a slow but heavy breeze hung over the lazy Sunday. I decided, with the most risky and exhausting of the ritual tasks complete, to spend the rest of the day curled up in bed with Artie and some Mystery Science Theater reruns.

I listened outside as the towering trees outside the house creaked and swayed. The pitter-patter of light rain drizzling the leaves hissed across the forest. The faint rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

Artie perked her straight-eared head up, stretched herself to her feet, scampered to the long window, and gazed out onto the patio from underneath the work table. She stared out there, her eyes fixed on something for a long time. Artie was fascinated by water. I had seen her stare at a dripping fawcett for a straight half hour, so at the time I didn't think much of it. A thunderclap, this time far louder and closer than before, broke her concentration and sent her darting under my bed, much to my pity.

The booming thunder grew louder and more frequent. The rain grew loud and heavy, hammering the roof above me. I turned round and glanced out the window to see that a tempest swirled outside, battering the forest and submerging the earth. There were still hours of daylight left, but the sky was a dark navy blue and the forest was black as night. Just as I had taken in the scene, a searing bolt of lightning shot down further up the driveway, illuminating the whole cannopy in a bright flash. All the lights went out.

"Shit." I growled, trying to think of how I should go about adapting to the darkness and the deprivation of pleasant distraction. I knew I would need a flashlight, but I forgot where I had put it, and immediately saw the folly in groping around for it in the darkness.

What I did have plenty of, and easily on hand, were candles. I stumbled off of the bed and crept down to take up and light the three torches at Hekate's altar with the bic in my pocket from the other night. I set one down on my nightstand and carried the other with me down the hall. I found the flashlight easily in one of the drawers in the bathroom.

The power was out, so it was either the breaker or the power lines somewhere on the way to town. If it was the latter there was nothing to be done but wait for the power company to fix it, probably sometime tomorrow, but I figured it was worth a shot to go out and try the fuse. That lightning strike sure did look awfully close, and I missed the soothing ineptitude of The Giant Spider Invasion.

I put on the dry soiled hiking boots I kept by the door and donned the plastic poncho that was crumped up in the drawer under the sink.

As soon as I stepped out the door my face was pelted by heavy rain drops and I waded ankle-deep across the flooded ground. I tip-toed my way by torchlight around my house out to the side facing the lake. I opened the circuit breaker and tripped the universal folk remedy of turning it off and on again.

No light save the candle shone through the living room window. "Fuck." I grumbled. The outage must have been all around town. There was nothing to do but wait. I sighed and returned to the front door when I noticed something amiss.

The door was open. Wide open.

That wasn't unthinkable. The door's hinges were loose, and the door wouldn't stay shut on its own, so I would lay the handle of an old gardening shovel on it to to keep it closed when it wasn't locked, and I knew I had done that as I went to check the breaker.

It was bad out of course, and it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that the strong winds had blown the window from its position, but the shovel didn't lie on the ground beneath the swinging entrance, but rested leaning against the adjacent wall of the cabin. Someone had moved it. Someone was inside my house.

I stood outside trying to think of what I should do. I think I just stayed out there in the rain looking in for several minutes. What if I was overreacting? But what if I wasn't? What if an intruder was in there waiting for me, and what would they do if I broke from my routine? What if they did something to Artie? I took a deep breath. I decided to compromise in my course of action.

I took up the shovel and walked inside the kitchen. There was noone there, and I heard nothing inside, but beyond the fridge there was a blind spot from the hallway leading to the bathroom. I gripped the handle of my shovel and shined the flashlight out in front of me as I rounded the bend. The hallway was empty.

I walked backwards with my flashlight fixed on the hall until I crossed the threshold into my living room and dropped the shovel, quickly grabbing the ritual knife again and holding its blade in front of me. I scanned the large dark room with the flashlight and nothing was out of the ordinary. I quickly ducked under my bed and shined my light to see Artie coiled in a defensive posture in her cthonic chamber, hissing empty threats. I got into bed and wrapped the covers over me, holding the knife out from my breast.

I just lay there, clutching the dagger, casting its edge into the sinister darkness. Still, there was no sign of life, but every slap of water and every crash of the wind I scrutinized with suspicion. After what felt like many hours of the softening, drizzling rain and the dimming light of the sun I drifted off to sleep.

In the pitch black as I lay there, though I cannot say whether it was real or a dream, I swear I could hear the shifting of beams and the creaking of footsteps coming from my parent's bedroom on the other end of the cabin.