26 THE CEDARVILLE REVIEW Santa Ana by Brosnan Butt THUMP. In December 2011, I awoke with a shuddering gasp in the darkness of my childhood room. The room spun and smeared around me like an abstract painting. My senses, resurrecting after slumber, became conscious of the wind howling around my window panes. I could hear their subtle vibration as a dull hum that wormed into my skull. THUMP. This was not normal. Something was terribly wrong. I slipped from my sheets and began to tread, wraithlike, out of my bedroom into the hallway, towards the wall of windows immediately outside my door. The howling wind crescendoed. I wondered what sort of mystery the windows framed. What sort of world lay between the fragile glass and me? THUMP. The first thing I noticed was the unnatural light that came from neither streetlamp nor celestial body. My mind, in a daze, thought that it was 7 in the morning. I
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