The Field

“Alright I’m off to bed, please get home safe.” My mother’s voice is soft and comforting through the phone

I check the time, “Of course ma, I should be home in about an hour and a half. I’m just waiting for the bus.”

“Well be careful, it’s scary at night.” A touch of concern in her voice tells me she’s uncomfortable with me sitting out here so late.

I try my hardest to keep the roll out of my eyes, but my mom was always too anxious about me going anywhere besides my place of work two blocks from our house, “Don’t worry, there’s no one out here. I’ll be fine.”

“I know, I know. But it just worries me. You know that.” A beat of silence lets the comment fade into the darkness around me. “Well, I can’t wait to hear all about your visit with your grandparents tomorrow, just make sure to lock the door when you’re home.”

I say my goodbyes and hang up the phone, the silence was deafening. I had almost wished to beg my mom to stay up until the bus came, so I wouldn’t be entirely alone with my own presence. But I knew better than to keep her from her bedtime.

The street lamps overhead emitted a warm spotlight on the cold hard bench I sat on. The air was neutral, except for a quick bite of the wind every now and then that incentivized the empty field around me to whisper its own little secrets. It was the end of Fall, and Winter was rapidly approaching. I did not want to be waiting out for long.

Tapping my foot hastily and checking my watch, I took a steadying breath as I watched another minute pass by. It was 8:27, the bus was unusually late and a looming dread was beginning to take place.

It was with that remark that I notice the wind had stilled for a moment, almost as if to hear my thoughts for itself. The hairs on my arms prickled, my heart flittered against my chest. This quiet town was not a hotspot of crime or cruelty, it had been my grandparent's home for the past twelve years, and I had heard nothing of note. I steal a quick breath of numbing air, and focus my attention on the pavement in front of me.

There was no reason for me to be on edge, right?

Rustling in a nearby tree gave way to a lone crow that fled the lamplight. The street was empty, save for a few scattered mundane storefronts that had long since closed down, and the very bus stop I was rigidly sitting at, of which I was acutely aware of the dark and vast patches of tall grass surrounding my vulnerable position. I glanced at the time on my watch: 8:33, had it only been a few minutes? I was growing more restless, more unsure of what I was to do. The thought of walking back to my grandparent's house didn't instill the most calming feeling to the pit of my stomach, but neither did waiting here until nine o'clock, when I knew for certain the bus would not be coming to pick up any straggling pedestrians.

As I lift my head up from my thoughts, a fleeting figure darts right out of my peripheral vision. I rush upward out of my seat and look down the street, where the lamplight's reach stretches thin, battling with the rough shadows that loomed closer with each passing moment. A small gust of wind pressed against my back almost as if to tell me, go on- go and see. Each joint between every bone seemed to solidify and cement my body in place. My chest could not keep up with my jittery heart, there was nothing to do but stand and watch. The shadow that loomed towards me seemed to inch closer and closer with every second that passed by. There was no silvery moon to light up the night, no other illumination to welcome a clear view but the one I was beneath. It was just me and the road for a few miles in each direction. I remind myself of the scarcity of terrible events, and sit back down to clear my swirling head with a low chuckle. It was senseless to believe there was something out there, waiting to get me. It would be even more so to act on said thoughts. But with how exposed I felt, I may as well be naked.

A few more excruciating minutes pass by, and my heart is still struggling to contain itself within my ribcage, but I manage a deep breath and I watch the small cloud of hot air trickle out of my mouth and float away into the night. With one more breath escaping my constricting lungs, the field behind me seems to whisper louder and louder with each gust of wind; the voices of every individual blade of tall grass shift and crackle like crisp paper in my ears. I want to know what they were saying, what I had been so evidently missing out on with my surroundings. Though partially, I hoped that my stark presence in the desolate street would go unnoticed by the breathing field. The lingering feeling that something was right behind my back persists, and I am frozen with fear.

It was then in that moment while I was so fixated on the taunting conversation the field was having with itself, I heard the voice. From a distance, the sound was nothing but an animal yipping about. But from where I rose I knew it was something that didn't quite belong in that susurrus field. Anxiously, I observed the time and made a silent prayer that the bus would come. That I am not taken from this forsaken place with my last breath. There was nothing I could do now to stop my teeth from finding my nailbeds. It was now 8:45, and I was beginning to think that there was nothing coming to rescue me from this nightmare.

I would have to save myself. I could not ignore the daunting field, or the eerie voice that echoed in the darkness.

My fingers crack and echo into the night and I brave a shaky step behind the bench, into the grass. I am immediately enveloped into the plantlife. With every bustling step, the field seems to wrap around me and welcome me into its very center. I did not know where I was going, why I was going this direction, but my feet carried me to my unforeseen destination without my command and did not stop.

The whispers shriek in my ears now. They wail and yelp until I can no longer hear my own cracking heartbeat, and I am forced to understand.

Yes! Yes! Face it! Break it!

Strangely, I did not feel scared anymore. The words seem to comfort me, as if the very sentiment of confronting my fear had staved off any sense of vulnerability. Every step I took grew more stern, more demanding. Something was taking over, controlling this vessel I called home. I felt foreign to myself, like I was blindfolded and feeling around for a light switch.

The more time I spend walking forward, the more I realize that I had somehow gone in one gigantic circle. I was coming back up to the bus stop from the other side of the street, where I half expected the bus to be sitting patiently for me. Instead, I come across a familiar figure sitting on the bench. The more I look closely the more a deep understanding finds its way through me. I am looking at a woman, who is peering down at her shoes with an apprehensive look drawn all over her face. I slide out of the tall grass as the last few strands linger on my hair, as if to convince me to stay behind. I hide behind a tall naked tree where I can safely observe this phenomenon. The whispers slow as I gaze ahead of me beneath the lamp light.

What had I stumbled across? What was I to do? The truth of it all seemed ridiculous, my eyes had to be playing tricks on me. It was late and I was tired. The need to go home spread its wings and took flight within my chest and I could not catch it. Before I can stop myself I step back. I alarm a bird in the tree and watch it escape my presence as I resign myself back to the grass. With one final glance to my doppelgänger, I take off into the known uncertainty, desperate to find a way out of whatever I had stumbled upon.

I run and run until my thoughts can't catch up with my feet anymore. There were no other ideas racing through my head besides getting out. I had come here to face my fear, to confront the disturbance in the night. To find the bus, to find a reason for this all. And I had found nothing but perplexity. With another lunging step forward, my foot catches on something in the ground and I swing down with a yelp.

With a face full of dirt and a heart full of turmoil, I try to rise from my fall and am heartbreakingly unsuccessful. My legs are immobile and as I turn to look, the grass is swirling around my calves and nipping at my thighs. With every movement I attempt, the field seems to grow more desperate. It slithers up my torso with a cold, determined touch and doesn’t stop till the earthy, grassy tendrils grip my neck. I stifle one last cry as it pries my mouth apart and reaches inside. There was no time to process what was being done to me, the shock and terror all befuddled into one as my body constricts. There was no escaping this, no hope for freedom. No more desire for the bus to show up at 8:59 and whisk me away to safety.

This was my destination.

As I sink into the cold hard ground the field and eventually the coarse dirt, engulfs any sign of my body-my life. I am no longer my own self, I am a part of the massive hivemind that is this field. The grass turns its attention away from my descending body. I notice a slight rustling in the direction of the bus stop just as my face is taken under.