Things are very strange here today. The sunlight looks wrong. I don't think sunlight has ever been lavender, has it? I can't quite remember. It seems both familiar and quite, quite odd.

I sat up in my bed this morning – the mattress crunched beneath me as though it were filled with chitin – and looked out the window, which was wider than it was tall. I could have sworn it had been the other way around last night.

In the garden, the grass and the leaves on the trees were all a glowing blue; different shades of blue, to be sure, but each with its own internal light. A pigeon stalked through the grass, hunting the house cat. At least they looked the way I remembered them looking. The cat slunk warily through the high grass, trying to see all ways at once.

I struggled to get the window open. I've barely been staying here a week, and I don't yet have the hang of the latch. Which, in any case, was now placed under the sill instead of at the lip of the window. Or perhaps it has always been there. I wish I had a better memory.

The pigeon pounced. I shouted a warning through the still-closed window. The sound bounced off the glass and crashed back against my eardrums. The pigeon held the cat down with its claws. Then a purple shadow fell over both animals. A cloud, blood-coloured, leapt down from the sky and engulfed them both. I could see the outline of them fighting in its downy folds as it floated back up into the sky.

There was a knock on my door. "Sweetie? You awake yet? Can I come in?" It was wonderdread's voice.

I don't think I'm going to answer.