"A Night Under The Stars"
(And A Cricket Concerto)
It was an unfortunate situation that brought them together here, and that was a fact.
It was equally unfortunate that the unappreciated night was beautiful. The air had a cool and
crisp quality to it, something that made the stars stand out even more sharply against the
sky. And the sky, ahhh... the sky was wide and almost fathomness, inky and thick enough to
settle in the lungs like a well-taken breath. It was lovely, it was expressful, and it was a
night that reminded a person why he was alive.
"...The meaning of life for you is ruining the meaning of mine, isn't it Mulder?"
The duo was lying out in a cornfield -- or what was left of one. Right smack in the center was
a series of symbols and circles, arranged like a crop circle. Actually, in fact--at least
according to Mulder--it was a crop circle. Aliens. You know, the little green--
"Grey," Mulder quipped.
--grey aliens in space ships? Yup, that kind of crop circle. The center space was wide enough
for a three trucks to park in, and that's where Mulder and Scully planted their sleeping bags,
among crushed ears of corn and snapped stalks. Contrary to popular belief, this was not
comfortable terrain to lie on.
"I'm uncomfortable." Scully said, for the first time since she last said that she was
uncomfortable.
Mulder, who had zipped his sleeping bag up all the way and ducked his head in, muffled a
response. Chances were that he wasn't actually saying anything, but no one had to know that.
Scully, with her own bag up to her chin, slid her eyes to one side and cast him a glare. Again.
Mulder, despite the fact that he was covering his head and unable to see anything, meeped.
Scully sighed and rolled about in her bag, slamming her fists down on the ground every once and
a while in accent to her rustling. She huffed, puffed, and...well, that was about it. Either
way, it was unpleasant sounding. Mulder's eyes peeked out from the top of his bag warily, and he
watched her shift around.
"Mulder, something paranormal damn well better happen," Scully said, as she flopped onto her
back again.
"Oh, it will." Mulder assured her. Having fully slipped his head and shoulders out from the
sleeping bag like a turtle coming out of its shell, he crossed his arms over his chest and layed
back. "...Maybe."
Scully heaved a long, hard sigh.
"Well geez, Scully!" Mulder said. "You could be at home right now, you know, doing nothing
productive."
"I could be home right now in a warm -bed-." Scully retorted.
"Okay, well, I grant you that... but this is work. It's unavoidable."
"Staking out a cornfield?"
"Yup."
Scully felt something nosing into the side of her head. Turning her eyes about, she caught
sight of her shoes, which she had placed next to her. Her shoes. In a cornfield. Sleeping near
Mulder. It was almost too much to handle all in one sitting.
"Do you think something will happen, Mulder? Honestly?"
"Honestly...." Mulder said. "I don't know. Probably not. I mean, the tire marks we're laying
on suggests that someone human did this. Right?'
"...So, in reality, we're seeking to nab Farmer Bill?"
"Or Bob. Or Jon. Sheesh, don't ask me for the specifics, Scully!"
"Okay, then," Scully said. "Fine." And, with a rustle and a roll she turned about in her bag so
that she was curled on her belly in a near-fetal position (sleeping bags weren't very good at
allowing a person to be un-straight). And, having done so, she declared, "I'm going to sleep."
"Fine." Mulder said.
"Fine."
It took her an hour, but finally, finally...fatigue took over and softened Scully up, so that
she could hardly notice the broken cornstalks jabbing into her ribs and thighs. Pleasantly
drowsy and warm within her sleeping bag, she felt herself slipping a little more deeply into
sleep. Her breath thickened and slowed, and suddenly she felt quite content. Very content,
actually.
This was when Mulder, who was wide awake, decided to speak. "Psst... Scully."
Scully grunted an inaudible response.
"You awake, Scully?" Mulder was speaking in a rattly whisper.
Grunt.
"Scully, shh! Can't you hear it?"
Scully, who was trying to retain her comfort, allowed herself to perk up and listen for a
moment. "Mmmgh, I don't hear anything, Mulder." This actually didn't quite sound like that.
It was more of an, 'mmmgh, my mont mear manyming, Mulmer.' But you all get the idea.
"No, Scully," Mulder whispered. "Listen!"
"I -am- listening!" My mamnh mistening.
"Don't you hear them?" Mulder hissed.
"Hear what?" Scully was trying not to be irritated, she was too drowsy. To have gotten angry
would have worken her up, even though she -was- getting to the borderline.
"...The -crickets-, Scully."
"The what?" And, sure enough, a solitary cricket was chirping nearby. Scully, of course, had
been hearing it all along... she just couldn't see why Mulder was pointing it out.
"The crickets, the -crickets-!" Mulder said hushedly, in the manner of a madman.
"What about them?" Scully was loosing her grogginess -- fast. She forced herself to keep
mumbling, as to better hold herself into sleep. If Mulder woke her up... Ooh, he'd get it, that
was for certian!
"...Don't you know about it?" Mulder asked.
"...Noooo..." Scully droned semi-sarcastically. The tired thing, remember?
"I've heard stories about this." Mulder whispered. "About the sounds of crickets signaling
coming danger. A house has a gas leak, the man inside suddenly hears the sound of crickets in
his head. It's maddening, and he rushes out of the house to escape it -- which
explodes--bam--just as he gets out the door." The whites of his eyes moved, as he glanced from
side to side. "Or a person is driving at the side of the road, he hears the sound of crickets
ringnig in his ears. It's too much for him, he pulls over on the side of the road... Narrowly
missing a fatal accident. Don't you see, Scully! The crickets, the crickets!"
"Mulder, we're outside at -night-, what do you expect?" Scully retorted within a mumble.
"Mystical crickets, Scully!" Mulder exclaimed. "They're mystical crickets!"
"God." Scully pulled her sleeping bag over her head. "Go to sleep, Mulder.
"No, Scully!" Mulder cried. "Don't you -see-?!"
"I sure do," Scully said from beneath the bag.
"...Scully, we need to get out of here! The mystical crickets are trying to warn us! Something
terrible is going to happen!"
"As long as it lets me sleep," Scully muttered.
"Terrible!" Mulder croaked. "Terrible!"
And, as he continued to wail, Scully jerkily pushed her head and arms out from her sleeping
bag. Clenching her teeth angrily, fully awake at this point, she snatched up her thick-heeled
shoe, and sent it smacking into the ground with an angry thunk.
Crunch.
"Oh." Mulder said, after a long pause. "False alarm, I guess."
Scully eyed him with a piercing, semi-evil glare, and awkwardly elbowed her way back down into
her sleeping bag. Staring intently, she lay her head down and steamed. She wouldn't be sleeping
for a while, that was for certian.
Mulder shook his head a little and settled himself down as well, folding his arms behind his
head. He gazed up at the sky for a spell, chuckling every once in a while, and then was silent.
Blissfully so. Scully heaved a sigh--she was quite good at that, actually--and closed her eyes.
"You know," Mulder said. "It's kind of nice, the great outdoors. We should do this more often."
He didn't see the shoe come furiously hurtling toward his forehead.
Ah well -- the cricket had tried its best.
(And A Cricket Concerto)
It was an unfortunate situation that brought them together here, and that was a fact.
It was equally unfortunate that the unappreciated night was beautiful. The air had a cool and
crisp quality to it, something that made the stars stand out even more sharply against the
sky. And the sky, ahhh... the sky was wide and almost fathomness, inky and thick enough to
settle in the lungs like a well-taken breath. It was lovely, it was expressful, and it was a
night that reminded a person why he was alive.
"...The meaning of life for you is ruining the meaning of mine, isn't it Mulder?"
The duo was lying out in a cornfield -- or what was left of one. Right smack in the center was
a series of symbols and circles, arranged like a crop circle. Actually, in fact--at least
according to Mulder--it was a crop circle. Aliens. You know, the little green--
"Grey," Mulder quipped.
--grey aliens in space ships? Yup, that kind of crop circle. The center space was wide enough
for a three trucks to park in, and that's where Mulder and Scully planted their sleeping bags,
among crushed ears of corn and snapped stalks. Contrary to popular belief, this was not
comfortable terrain to lie on.
"I'm uncomfortable." Scully said, for the first time since she last said that she was
uncomfortable.
Mulder, who had zipped his sleeping bag up all the way and ducked his head in, muffled a
response. Chances were that he wasn't actually saying anything, but no one had to know that.
Scully, with her own bag up to her chin, slid her eyes to one side and cast him a glare. Again.
Mulder, despite the fact that he was covering his head and unable to see anything, meeped.
Scully sighed and rolled about in her bag, slamming her fists down on the ground every once and
a while in accent to her rustling. She huffed, puffed, and...well, that was about it. Either
way, it was unpleasant sounding. Mulder's eyes peeked out from the top of his bag warily, and he
watched her shift around.
"Mulder, something paranormal damn well better happen," Scully said, as she flopped onto her
back again.
"Oh, it will." Mulder assured her. Having fully slipped his head and shoulders out from the
sleeping bag like a turtle coming out of its shell, he crossed his arms over his chest and layed
back. "...Maybe."
Scully heaved a long, hard sigh.
"Well geez, Scully!" Mulder said. "You could be at home right now, you know, doing nothing
productive."
"I could be home right now in a warm -bed-." Scully retorted.
"Okay, well, I grant you that... but this is work. It's unavoidable."
"Staking out a cornfield?"
"Yup."
Scully felt something nosing into the side of her head. Turning her eyes about, she caught
sight of her shoes, which she had placed next to her. Her shoes. In a cornfield. Sleeping near
Mulder. It was almost too much to handle all in one sitting.
"Do you think something will happen, Mulder? Honestly?"
"Honestly...." Mulder said. "I don't know. Probably not. I mean, the tire marks we're laying
on suggests that someone human did this. Right?'
"...So, in reality, we're seeking to nab Farmer Bill?"
"Or Bob. Or Jon. Sheesh, don't ask me for the specifics, Scully!"
"Okay, then," Scully said. "Fine." And, with a rustle and a roll she turned about in her bag so
that she was curled on her belly in a near-fetal position (sleeping bags weren't very good at
allowing a person to be un-straight). And, having done so, she declared, "I'm going to sleep."
"Fine." Mulder said.
"Fine."
It took her an hour, but finally, finally...fatigue took over and softened Scully up, so that
she could hardly notice the broken cornstalks jabbing into her ribs and thighs. Pleasantly
drowsy and warm within her sleeping bag, she felt herself slipping a little more deeply into
sleep. Her breath thickened and slowed, and suddenly she felt quite content. Very content,
actually.
This was when Mulder, who was wide awake, decided to speak. "Psst... Scully."
Scully grunted an inaudible response.
"You awake, Scully?" Mulder was speaking in a rattly whisper.
Grunt.
"Scully, shh! Can't you hear it?"
Scully, who was trying to retain her comfort, allowed herself to perk up and listen for a
moment. "Mmmgh, I don't hear anything, Mulder." This actually didn't quite sound like that.
It was more of an, 'mmmgh, my mont mear manyming, Mulmer.' But you all get the idea.
"No, Scully," Mulder whispered. "Listen!"
"I -am- listening!" My mamnh mistening.
"Don't you hear them?" Mulder hissed.
"Hear what?" Scully was trying not to be irritated, she was too drowsy. To have gotten angry
would have worken her up, even though she -was- getting to the borderline.
"...The -crickets-, Scully."
"The what?" And, sure enough, a solitary cricket was chirping nearby. Scully, of course, had
been hearing it all along... she just couldn't see why Mulder was pointing it out.
"The crickets, the -crickets-!" Mulder said hushedly, in the manner of a madman.
"What about them?" Scully was loosing her grogginess -- fast. She forced herself to keep
mumbling, as to better hold herself into sleep. If Mulder woke her up... Ooh, he'd get it, that
was for certian!
"...Don't you know about it?" Mulder asked.
"...Noooo..." Scully droned semi-sarcastically. The tired thing, remember?
"I've heard stories about this." Mulder whispered. "About the sounds of crickets signaling
coming danger. A house has a gas leak, the man inside suddenly hears the sound of crickets in
his head. It's maddening, and he rushes out of the house to escape it -- which
explodes--bam--just as he gets out the door." The whites of his eyes moved, as he glanced from
side to side. "Or a person is driving at the side of the road, he hears the sound of crickets
ringnig in his ears. It's too much for him, he pulls over on the side of the road... Narrowly
missing a fatal accident. Don't you see, Scully! The crickets, the crickets!"
"Mulder, we're outside at -night-, what do you expect?" Scully retorted within a mumble.
"Mystical crickets, Scully!" Mulder exclaimed. "They're mystical crickets!"
"God." Scully pulled her sleeping bag over her head. "Go to sleep, Mulder.
"No, Scully!" Mulder cried. "Don't you -see-?!"
"I sure do," Scully said from beneath the bag.
"...Scully, we need to get out of here! The mystical crickets are trying to warn us! Something
terrible is going to happen!"
"As long as it lets me sleep," Scully muttered.
"Terrible!" Mulder croaked. "Terrible!"
And, as he continued to wail, Scully jerkily pushed her head and arms out from her sleeping
bag. Clenching her teeth angrily, fully awake at this point, she snatched up her thick-heeled
shoe, and sent it smacking into the ground with an angry thunk.
Crunch.
"Oh." Mulder said, after a long pause. "False alarm, I guess."
Scully eyed him with a piercing, semi-evil glare, and awkwardly elbowed her way back down into
her sleeping bag. Staring intently, she lay her head down and steamed. She wouldn't be sleeping
for a while, that was for certian.
Mulder shook his head a little and settled himself down as well, folding his arms behind his
head. He gazed up at the sky for a spell, chuckling every once in a while, and then was silent.
Blissfully so. Scully heaved a sigh--she was quite good at that, actually--and closed her eyes.
"You know," Mulder said. "It's kind of nice, the great outdoors. We should do this more often."
He didn't see the shoe come furiously hurtling toward his forehead.
Ah well -- the cricket had tried its best.