MonstrousMay 12. Trapped

I like to think they had a hard time, deciding what they did. But I'm not sure they are even capable of thinking that way. Maybe guilt is a distinctly human gift.

Genuinely, I think it started with right place, right time. I had driven past the edge of town and kept driving until nothing looked familiar. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to where I stopped. I just did.

The cornfield looked eerie in the night with barely any light. I worked up the nerve and turned the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition. Looking down the road both ways, I didn't see headlights or taillights. I was truly alone, except for the crickets. They sang to one another, calling across the field, hoping to hop closer and closer.

I walked without direction, letting the droopy leaves drag across my face and hands. I stopped and stared up at the stars. There were so many of them out there in the middle of nowhere. They all seemed like strangers to me.

Kneeling down in the dirt, I balled the soil up in my fists. I remember the weight of what was tucked into my waistband, the way my skin had warmed the metal so that it barely felt like anything at all. I pulled it out and laid down. I just couldn't stop looking up at the twinkling white freckles in the sky. 

I woke up when I put my car in park at home. My neighbor was out walking his dog and came running over. "Where ya been, buddy?" he asked. "You go on vacation or something?" 

"Is this a dream?" I asked him. The concern on his face made me want to cram all the words back into my mouth. I tried to come up with something, but I really had no clue. When I got out of the car I realized my shirt was on backwards. I wasn't wearing any shoes. They were in the passenger seat, something tucked inside against one of the tongues.

Apparently my folks had filed a missing person report. I had been gone for over a week. They were just happy to have me back, they said. The police were happy to close the case with something besides worst case scenario. But it was a small town and word got around.

My phone started to ring off the hook. Old friends from school calling to check in. People curious about what I'd gotten up to. Did I need something? I told them all no. And eventually I just unplugged the phone. The food in the fridge was rotten.

That week of time came back to me in dreams over the next few months. Little flashes would drift up as I daydreamed, the assembly line rolling the same piece past me a thousand times. I saw metal pressed against my skin. A warm feeling throughout my body. People standing over me, eyes so big and black I could see myself reflected in them. Could see that I was smiling. 

One day, I drove back out to the field. I don't remember anything in particular happening. I was driving home from work when I passed my house and just kept driving. I was going to do what I had planned to do that first night. When I plugged the phone back in, it didn't ring anymore. The operator said the line was working just fine.

It had gotten too cold for crickets and the corn had been harvested, leaving broken stalks and stilted scarecrows. The stars were there, though. Different, but so many it would be easy to just say they looked the same.

And then I was home again. It had been five days this time. My clothes were on right this time, everything where I had it when I got out of my car and walked into the field.

My parents were worried, but more that I wasn't telling them something. When they had filed the missing person report that time, the police said it was looking more like a pattern of behavior. They asked my mom and dad if I had a history of drug use. If I could have some involvement with unsavory elements. People talked.

That time, I noticed little cuts on my stomach afterward. I couldn't be sure but they looked like new wounds cut into old scars. They didn't hurt when I touched them so that was enough. 

Otherwise, I did remember more of my time with them that go around. It didn't take dreaming and discussion with myself. I was laying on a table like I had been laying in the field. I didn't have any clothes, but I didn't feel ashamed. I saw their heads tilting, talking to one another. I couldn't move. Only my eyes were free to roam around the white space. I had the thought that I could be there forever like that, a weightless dream without form or time. No escape. But no escape wanted. One placed something like a hand on my head and I started to laugh so hard I cried.

The last time they took me, it wasn't even for a whole day. It was Christmas Eve and I went to the field instead of my parents' house. I couldn't bear the thought of being around them. It was freezing and I watched my breath float up to live with the stars. I had decided that if they didn't come, that would be that. 

I awoke standing at the front door. I was wearing everything, but the gun was missing. I lied and said I must have gotten our plans mixed up. My parents didn't buy it, but they left it alone. We ate ham and I was home before dark.

The next time I went to the field, it was spring. I was alone out there for hours. I fell asleep and woke up exactly where I had been. No weeklong blissful blink. No hand on my head. Just a body, heavy and sore and the same as it was the night before. I went to work in my day old clothes and came back home.

I had worried at first I did it wrong. Was in the wrong spot or maybe I had waited too long. But I knew deep down they had seen me there and decided to leave me alone.

I still go to the field, sometimes. But they still haven't come.