Earl Grey at the End of the World

A very strange thing I am writing. A short story which I estimate will end up being half an hour-ish in length.

Just a heads up, in chapter three, the double dashes are the closest I could get to those super long dashes you see in books when people's speech is interrupted. If anyone knows how to get those, please let me know.

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2. 2

   Jane woke to the sound of the rain singing her name. It tapped it on the windowpane and the leaves of the trees and it whispered it enticingly in her ear. She sat up cautiously, eyes wide in the darkness and knuckles white, clutching at the thick feather duvet. Wonderingly, she stared out of the window.

   Outside, she saw a sky dotted with stars that had rearranged themselves into new shapes. The new constellation she saw was a strange one, but it was by no means an unfamiliar shape - an arrow of stars which sloped down towards her front lawn.

   She gazed at it for some minutes, transfixed by the tiny lights that glowed so unusually brightly. When she tipped her head to the side and squinted through her still-heavy lids, she thought that perhaps they were not stars at all, but winged shapes, hovering there to draw her attention. For a moment she was almost tempted to wave.

   "Come here," said the stars which were not stars, "come out. We're waiting." She reached out a shaky hand to the nightlight on her bedside table and the other to her wardrobe door.

   "I'm coming," she whispered to herself.

  "Hurry," they urged, "mustn't be slow, mustn't keep her waiting." Of course not. Mustn't keep her waiting. Not that Jane knew who "she" was.

   She dressed in a daze, throwing on a pair of jeans and a white shirt with the collar still half up, half down. Her frizzy hair stood up in a crown around her head, but she did not make her usual attempt to battle it down with a brush. Stumbling dreamily down the stairs, she almost tripped, but righted herself with an unsteady hand. She stepped out of the front door with her feet still bare, the dew tipped grass of the front lawn wet to the touch. She giggled slightly, almost drunkenly as she felt the tickling sensation against her skin. She began to run.

  But she faltered when she looked up at the midnight sky. A pale half moon was the only feature in an otherwise empty, ink-black sea. The strange stars of moments ago seemed to have been snuffed from the sky, leaving only darkness in their wake. Jane stood, disorientated for a moment, lost; but that was when the wind began. 

   It stirred every leaf and blade of grass and ruffled the feathers of the roosting birds - so much so, that some loosed indignant squawks. It seemed to have no direction, blowing from anywhere and everywhere; but the truly remarkable thing was what it did to the trees.

   With one gust it forced their branches towards the ground, so it seemed to Jane that they were bowing to her. Then, as one, their branches swept to the left, pointing towards a small, winding path that she had never noticed before. Yet it must have been there, she thought to herself. It seems so  very old. It was thin, silvery and unwound across the ground like a skein of thread, lined on either side by slim birch trees.

   Well, thought Jane, why not? Gingerly, her stomach seething with butterflies, she placed one foot on the path.

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