Like Empty Crosses (An excerpt of a book I'll never write)
Posted June 7th, 2018 by SarahJ
June 7th, 2018
The telephone poles stood like empty crosses in an overgrown graveyard, with the sky’s backsplash of lavender and peach creating a dreamy haze around the landscape. The tall grass surrounded my body, lying like a corpse that belonged in a grave, but was left out to rot. My deep, golden brown eyes squinted at the sky, for the sun was present but fading. My only movements were the subtle rising and falling of my chest, and I had stayed like that for a long time. I heard a rustle in the swaying grass that I recognized as footsteps approaching my helpless, lying position. I made no effort to rise.
“What are you doing? Get up, it’s time to go,” a familiar voice said. August, my older brother spoke in his freshly deep, unsteady voice. I stood up laboriously and slowly, with exaggerated effort. August’s cold, grey eyes met my own for a moment, but he turned away and started walking towards our little pale house with a back patio that faced the field I lay in. They warm, late spring breeze caressed my pale face, like even the wind did not want me to leave. I was to be a dead body, left to decay in the field I grew up in for fourteen years. It felt like I was living in a dream, with a hazy sunset and the van stuffed with suitcases and boxes. I knew the dream wasn’t real, so I went along with it, knowing I would wake up any time now with the sun peeking through my thin curtains, waking me up for another day.
But I didn’t wake up, and it wasn’t a dream. I walked in a daze, the itchy grass giving my bare legs thin scratches as I walked through the field to the house.
As I looked through the back window of the car, at the suburban houses, and the streetlamps that would light up the night soon, I realized I would never see it again.
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