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Weekly Contest #325
It was 12:57 a.m. The house was silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioner.A wave of nausea hit me, stomach twisting. I threw back the blanket, stumbled toward the bathroom, hand pressed to my mouth—and the tap was dry.“Oh God… the tank must be empty again,” I muttered.Grumbling, I slipped on my slippers and stepped into the cool night toward the water motor switch by the back wall. The moonless sky and buzzing porch light cast long, trembling shadows.A shadow glided from right to left just beyond the gate. My breath hitched, a cold...
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