The+Field+Near+the+Mountains

The Field Near the Mountains By Harrison Pyros

Samson stood out in the middle of a green field. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair and moved the long strands of emerald grass. Samson looked around.  //How did I get here? Where am I?//  It had happened again. Every day now he would wake up in an unknown place. At least he thought they were days. Yesterday was in a rowboat in the middle of a lake. The day before that, an empty chemistry lab in a high school. It didn’t make sense.  He barely ever saw someone. If he did, they were somewhere in the distance. Another wind blew; this one harder than the last. Samson squinted his eyes against it.  “Hello?” he called as if someone would actually answer. “Hello?” No answer.  He put his hand against his forehead and shaded his eyes as he took in his surroundings. In the distance were large purple mountains with snow-capped peaks that reminded him of the Rockies and the song Oh, Beautiful. The bright sun glared down at him, the opposite of the weather at the lake the other day.  He sighed and then spontaneously screamed, “Where the hell am I?”  All that answered him was the howling wind. But the howling wind brought a sound. An odd sound that was not primitive to this habitat. It was the sound of a young girl giggling.  Samson spun around. “Hello? Who was that?” The giggles again. “I hear you! Where are you?”  Behind him, about a football-field’s-length away, was a small little girl in a lacy dress. She pressed her small white hands to her lips again and giggled with a smile. Then she said in her high pitched voice, “Come on and catch me, Samson.”  Samson stared in disbelief at the little girl who knew his name as she turned from him and began to skip away.  “Wait,” he called. “Please, wait. How do you know my name?”  The little girl turned to face him again. She pressed one finger to her lips. “Ssshhh. It’s a secret.” And she turned and ran away.  Samson sprinted after her. His feet pounded against the resilient grassy surface as he desperately tried to catch up with this mysterious girl. She ran out of sight as she ran over a hill. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Wait!” he yelled again. His leg muscles worked as they propelled him farther up the hill until he finally reached the top. He looked down and saw the little girl standing next to a vertical rock wall. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Come on, Samson,” she cooed. She pressed her small palm against the wall. Without a sound, the solid brown earth spilt and gave way and swung in like a door. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> //What in the name of…?// <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Hurry up,” the girl said impatiently. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Yes, hurry up, Samson,” said a voice behind him. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Samson spun around to face the woman who spoke from behind him. She smiled at him. It was Loraine, his wife. Her blond hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was wearing the exact same thing the last time he remembered seeing her—a T-shirt and shorts. He remembered the last time he saw her: in the passenger seat of their car on the freeway. And then it was all black and he had woken up…Where had he woken up? It was so long ago he couldn’t remember. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> But she was here! Here right now. Why was she here? What was going on? Was he finally going to go home; return to normal? <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Loraine?” he asked in disbelief, reaching out to touch her to see if she was actually there <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Go, Samson,” she said. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “What’s going on, Loraine? What happened?” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Go and you will find out.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> He looked at her in confusion for a little while and then turned and strode down the hill. He looked back at her, still standing there. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Are you coming?” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Eventually,” she replied. She walked a few feet down the hill and then stopped again. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Come //on//, Samson,” the little girl whined. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> He turned back to her. “C…Coming.” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> The day seemed like it was getting darker and Samson looked up at the sky. He noticed there were dark storm clouds quickly rolling in. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Is there going to be a storm?” he asked. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Yes,” the girl said, also looking at the sky. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> With a loud crack of thunder, the clouds let loose their load and buckets of rain fell down on the three people. Samson looked back at Loraine looking at the sky. As each drop of rain hit the grass, the blades turned yellow with an audible sizzle. He stared at the ground with disbelief and confusion. Soon, all the grass was a dead yellow, and now, now the rain was changing it to a tar-like black. The ground squished and squirmed under his feet as his shoes dug into it. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “What’s happening?” he yelled over the bellowing thunder. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Get under,” yelled back the girl who was inside the cave-like thing. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Holes began to appear in the ground. The dirt and mush seeping into them, the holes expanding, growing wider, connecting, overlapping. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Lori!” he screamed, his hair plastered to his face. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Samson!” she yelled back from where she was standing with an outstretched hand. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Run, Lori. Run!” <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Her foot caught the edge of the pit as it gave way. With a terrified look on her face, she tumbled backwards into the hole. Falling down into the darkness. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Loraine!” Samson screamed in anguish. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> “Hurry, Samson. Under here!” yelled the girl from the safety of the cave-room. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> The ground gave way underneath him as he screamed, his hands grabbing for a hold, as he fell farther and farther into the abyss.

<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Loraine sat flipping through her magazine. She sighed and set it down next to her. She looked at her husband, Samson, lying in a hospital bed, all sorts of tubes and wires in him, and all sorts of machines working. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> She wondered if he would ever wake up from his coma. He’d been in it for over a month, ever since their car crash. <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> She looked at his peaceful-looing and barely moving face. She reached out and gently caressed his cheek. Then she said out loud, “I wonder what you’re dreaming.”