imperfect prose on thursdays -- The Barn

(warning: adult content)

The air is hot and dense with humidity. I feel streams of sweat gliding down my face, my back, my belly. All the intense running has left me feeling wrung out, but with the humidity it is as if I have been left in a puddle of hot water. 

She beckons to me from the shade of the barn. The sweet smell of hay and grass drift from the cooler air inside the barn. Looming like the opening to a cavern, the barn door seems inviting. The light shifts as I walk into the shadow of the barn. It shifts again as I pass through the door. My eyes are temporarily blinded by the transition from bright sunshine to the colorless murk of the barn

The barn’s scent is its own -- the sweet smell of hay, the rank odor of manure, the metallic scent of rusted tools. As my eyes adjust, I see her by the side wall. I walk toward her. There is no warning. No lights or buzzers go off. The light and smells remain the same. And then the wrenching pain as she pulls my arm up behind my back, shoving me against the splintered barn wall. Somehow she has pinned me against the wall with my arm held in place by . . . what? There is pain, yes, but more there is fear. The blinding, sickening fear as I realize I have fallen for her tricks again. I begin to shrink. My head is being pushed in on itself as if by a vise. There will be no escape. There never is.

Carefully placed on an old, faded feed sack, she has laid out her implements like a surgeon’s table. I can’t focus, nor do I recognize all of the items I can barely make out. I know I have a choice. I can stay here and die, or I can release myself into the world outside of the barn. 

(photo from little house design)

The grass is green and golden. It is so tall that I am completely hidden by it as I sit down. On my way out of the barn I have stopped by the rain barrel. The blue and white metal dipper is hot in my sweating hand. I dip it into the top of the barrel filling the dipper with cool water. The water is sweet and cool on my mouth and tongue. It gushes over my lips and down the front of my dress, chilling me for a moment.

I stretch out in the undulating grass. No one can see me. I am completely surrounded by the rise and fall of the waves of grass. Overhead the sun blazes down on me and the sky is a perfect cornflower blue. Fairies and dragonflies bob and weave above me, soothing me into a relaxed state of serenity. I am safe and at ease here until she is finished with my body. Nothing and no one can harm me.

link up at imperfect prose on thursdays