And then I saw it… A Short Story

It was dark out, and the wind was dying down after another stormy day. It decided to skip town earlier, right before sunset which is odd for the loads of rain we get. The moment I noticed the rain stop, I got myself ready to go out in the muddy fields. There might be a rainbow, if the sun was still up to show for it. I didn’t have much time to get there. Within seconds I was out the door with my rain boots and bright yellow rain jacket in hand. The dark clouds were still lingering above, almost like they followed every step I take.

For twenty minutes I walked to the old field I used to play in as a kid. The road was as straight for as long as the naked eye could see. Once you went far enough past the farms on the left, you’d see was a dense forest, filled with pines, birch and cedar trees. To the right of the forest, almost two football fields into the field was an empty patch in the middle. The farmers would pile their stacks of hay here and we’d sit on them to watch these crazy Southern storms pass by. If you ever got a clear night it was considered a four-leaf-clover in this town, and to get the best view you’d have to walk out to the cornfields. Taking this long road straighter than straight, until you see the forest on the left, and stacks on the right. When you’re walking South from this small town, always make sure you go to the haystacks on the right. Don’t get excited when you see the first pile, the farmers on the left aren’t so kind when people touch their haystacks.

I kept on walking, one foot in front of the other down this road until I saw the pile of haystacks. With target on lock, I took a sharp turn diagonally into the cornfield, needling my way through the long stalks and after a few minutes found myself in the clearing of haystacks. The sun was gone by now, but with the little daylight I had left I made my way to the top. This was the only way I would see the last of the sun— if it was still there. When I stood at the bottom of these stacks I felt invisible. When I made it to the top I felt like a star in the sky. I missed the sunset taking so long to climb this hill and by now it was almost pitch black. The only lights around me is the street light far in the distance where the field meets the road I veered off. Every once in a while you’d see car lights fly by, but you’d only get a view like this from the top of the haystacks. Looking up, the dark clouds moved faster and the wind became colder. The sun had left me once again, alone in the middle of this field, with no stars to count. I can’t remember the amount of times I’ve watched the sunset here. Though this time everything felt different. I was being watched—yes I know that feeling—I don’t second guess myself in these moments. I looked around me and couldn’t hear anything threatening or see anything close by. If something was climbing the stacks I would definitely hear them. I looked up into the pitch blackness only to find small twinkles of light scattered across the sky. Maybe someone is watching me…

The further the sun went the more stars started to come out. Lighting up the sky like I had never seen before. The field was lit with a bright white glow, illuminating in a way I couldn’t explain… I got start struck by the sky. Not taking my eyes off what I could see I almost started to cry. A clear night in this town for the first time since I was born. It was getting brighter. I squinted my eyes and looked up into the night trying to see the light behind the dark clouds. The clouds moved faster as I waited and waited to see a glimpse of the light again. It was brighter than the stars, much bigger and a lot rounder. The clouds faded away and the cornfield could be seen in the glow. The pitch black sky had a whole of light in it, glowing so bright it lit up the sky around it, and then I saw it… the moon for the very first time.

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Published by emriyus

I am human, just like you. I have been around for almost 20 years and although it may not be a lot of time to some, it feels like I've been alive forever. To cope with all the things my life has given me; good and bad, I've always been a writer. Maybe I didn't know or necessarily want to be a writer, but I was always on the creative side, not really understanding how different I was from others; I'm really not that different from you. To this day I'm still eager to learn more about myself, to improve and grow amorphously. I want to use this fuel of constant self-discovery as the direct source of 'energy' that can create whatever I want it to, making writing for me a healthier coping mechanism than most I've tried in my lifetime. That being said, I believe that starting my blog, The Existentialist, (all thanks to Wordpress and Bluehost teams) I finally have the opportunity and creative outlet to unleash my passion for art; writing. The beginning is never easy, and it won't get much easier I am aware. I can only believe in myself and keep my expectations to a minimum; I like to believe I hold no expectations, but they seem unavoidable. To whoever reads this, I'm not one to care about views or reads, I won't encourage/pressure you to read my work because for me, the thrill really comes from just making a finished piece of work I'm happy with, regardless if it is read by others or not; judgement from others is what I've feared all my life. I can only encourage you to have an open mind as a reader and believe in me as much as I believe in myself to accumulate the courage to start showing my creative writing(art) to the world. Everybody creates things in their lifetime, I am just another one of those beings; whether you like it or not, nouns (persons, places and 'things') exist to teach us something about ourselves. There is always more to learn...

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