Wams stood in an open field on a pitch-black night. There was Uncle Tom's barn, just a few hundred feet away, and the swishing sounds of cattle tails just a few meters and a fence-hop. It was that kind of night, with stars in the nightsky that looked like the glare of a thousand eyes, with clouds so thick and superior they covered the moon.
Wams remembered this kind of open field...
"Uncle Tom's Barn..." April said thoughtfully, "Why would you take me here?"
"Eh, just because." Wams shrugged.
"Nah – don't use that on me, Wams." April smirked, "What are you hiding?"
April touched Wams' fingertips with hers, ever so slightly, then suddenly took her by the hand. Wams let out a small shriek and quickly sunk her head to the ground, trying to hide the grin so conspicuously plastered on her reddening face.
"No-Nothing." Wams choked. Then she locked her eyes on a small forest, next to the unmistakable smell of the cattle.
"Are you sure?" April teased, "Then why are you leading me into the forest?"
Wams made her way into a small forest-covered glen, the one around a meter and fencehop away from the cattle outside of it. And through the heaviness of the dark – through the infinity of blindness and the absence of light, she saw a fire burn through the leaves.
Wams followed the sparkling, scorching trail. Blue fireflies danced by the wayside, like little cinders of electricity. Like little poofs and proofs of magic.
A pathway was lit up, made of rough cobblestone coalesced with grass and aster-flowers peeping ever so slightly through the pebbles. Then the trail stopped, and Wams saw the tent.
The campfire burnt out months ago, little piles of firewood were scattered throughout this small clearing. The tent was tattered, and the smell of blaring memories was burnt into its seams.
Wams saw the needles and coils of thread, the piles of clothes and sheep's wool stacked atop a small tree stump. She saw April's old guitar leaned against a tree.
Then she feared to look at all. She feared of what comes next because she knows this story; she knows how it ends. Her eyes slam shut, with tears flowing out of her pleading, widened eyes, as if they were being forced out by a slap behind her skull.
On her knees, her fist clenched up, her night-black hair flew in the wind with a clear, almost predictable pattern of undulation. Her eyes tried to open themselves in increments.
Less black, less dark, and the light was seeping through the mess of wetness, reflection, and teardrops sliding by the rims of her eyelids. Then when they opened: she saw it almost immediately, just next to the tree stump and the tent.
Two logs, two seats. One person.
YOU ARE READING
I'll Reach into Eternity
RomanceWams feels empty and lost after that incident. But that was a week ago, and to keep moving forward, she'll look into eternity. She has to be there, floating among the stars. Where else could she be? Maybe she's out there - in the void - inside the...
