Blink of an eye (Five minutes freewrite)

It was going to be one of those days, she could tell by the light filtering through the curtains. To all appearances, it looked like a sunny spring morning, but the light had that flimsy quality to it, Maggie had learned to recognize since she was five. A blink of an eye and it would be gone. That’s what Grandma used to say and although the girl did not think it would be that quick on such dangerous days she tried to keep her eyes open until they hurt.
Sometimes, keeping very still and focusing on something solid, like the table in front of her, was enough to hold the world together. She tried three times, staring hard at the old doll with a ceramic head and a red velvet dress. Dora, the only doll she’d ever had, was as real and can be and the young girl looked at her intently for what must have been three minutes, while all her other senses where frantically assessing the nature of the threat.
Maybe it’s just a ripple, those were unimportant and went away on their own, although Maggie wasn’t very sure how. According to Grandma, a ripple was created by a dangerous idea floating around waiting for someone to pick up on it. When no one did, it just vanished. This did not make much sense to Maggie. What business do ideas have floating around like dandelion seeds spreading with the wind? Could her own ideas escape the confines of her mind and wander into the world? But Grandma insisted it was all true.
When she walked out the door, there it was again, a faint shimmering in the air. As if that was not enough, Maggie felt the earth trembling ever so slightly, under her feet, not the sudden jolt of an earthquake, but rather a small jiggly movement. Like a wooden bricks tower on the verge of collapsing.
Maggie steadied herself, drew a deep breath and willed the world to stay in place. She set out for the village with a quick step. She had to find the root of the trouble before her world collapsed.

As the Brent farm came into view, Maggie wondered whether old Gill would be there. She hated him and the mean look in his strange blue eyes, so unnaturally pale he seemed almost blind. Yet, his eyes served him only too well and he hurried to the gate as soon as she saw the girl coming down the road.
‘Why in such a hurry, little lady? Anything wrong?’
‘Everything’s fine, Mr. Brent’, the girl answered without breaking rhythm.
‘I thought I heard some strange noises earlier, must be a storm is coming’, the old man went on, raising his voice as the girl was slipping away.
‘Any minute now, I can feel it in my bones’.
Maggie just nodded, not bothering to look at the skinny little man she hated. For no reason, actually. He never did or said anything wrong, but to her it seemed he was always there waiting for something terrible to happen. Something he might have had a hand into. ‘He’s nothing but an old fool’, Grandma used to say, when they happened to go by the farm and she could feel the little girl grow tense. That winter when there was the big freeze, Grandma made the girl run through the snow with a big pot of hot stew for old Gill. She remembered the awful feeling when the old man grabbed her hand to thank her and his skin felt colder than the snow.

When Maggie finally reached the village, she slowed the pace, taking everything in to see if there was anything amiss. Some boys were chasing a ball and almost knocked her down, Mary Roach was walking her dog and Gustav was putting up the shades over the three rusty tables in front of his restaurant, a fancy name for a place where the only thing you could eat were some ancient peanuts in a dusty bowl on the plastic counter.
Everything was as it should, but Maggie knew they were all in great danger if she couldn’t find the source of the disturbance.
As she circled the main square, the young girl noticed a boy throwing pebbles in the fountain with a lion’s head in the middle. The boy, who must have been nine, ten at most, smiled as he saw her approaching.
‘Hi, I’m Arthur. What is your name? Wanna play with me?’
With an expert move of the hand, he threw another pebble, causing a small ripple on the surface of the murky water.
(to be continued)

Story written for @mariannewest's freewrite challenge, today's prompt was: 'the big freeze'! Check out her blog and join our freewrite community.

Thanks for reading!

Image: Pixabay