The clear blue sky has started to get tainted by the grey platoon of clouds rolling in with the breeze. I mutter to myself, “If we’re going to get home dry, we best leave now.” I call for Maxy and he scrambles out of the long, parched grass with his tongue wiggling in the breeze like a stubborn fish. He pounces at me, with his head like a fury brick, and I fly backwards, laughing as I go. Dusting myself down, we start heading back along the path created by middle aged wanderers squash down the grass with their sandals. They give me strange looks. They give me strange looks because of my hair and my clothes. They judge me because of them and think I’m weird. I would like to say I didn’t care. I honestly would.
Suddenly, Maxy stops dead in his tracks and stares ahead. I do to for the gate has disappeared. In its place, there are brambles and nettles and pieces of discarded plastic. The clouds start to block the sunlight and I start to feel cold. Something isn’t right.
I turn to see the path to have disappeared. The grass stands tall and green as if suddenly revived of its terrible thirst. In the distance I see a sparking lake. As if god had just poured sprite into a crater. Magnificent white swans glided across the surface leaving ripples in its wake as if the water was warm honey. Maxy, seeing this not so much as a piece of art as a buffet, bolts forward. I reluctantly follow.
But as I sprint after the mad hound, I hear a rumbling and the earth begins to shake. Thick vines burst from the ground and grow tall before me. They wraith like medusa’s split ends and dart towards my feet. Just avoiding them, I leap and run. I run and run and run. The vines follow at a magnificent speed. They dig into the earth and emerge in front of me to try a wrap around my legs. I don’t know what they wanted with me but I’m not about to find out. Just as I think this, I trip, I fall. Black.
I awake moments later with a wet sensation upon my face. The rain falls down at the speed of tears. Looking around, I see the grass is once again half-dead. My head hurts like it does the morning after a big party. I get up slowly to avoid falling over. I look at where the gate is supposed to be and, lo and behold, it is back! Return to its good old rusty self. Maxy charges from behind me and leaps over the gate. Here we go again!
© Copyright 2016 The Ragamufin. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Other
Poem / Poetry
Short Story / Horror
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