The Jog – Ensuing the Ensuing
Michael patted the sparkling black bonnet of the aging Trans Am one last time as he prepared to head off on his 'relaxing' excursion. The metal felt like baby skin beneath his touch. Trotting up an old country lane he gladly left the old house and farm far behind him. Michael was somewhat out of shape. His breath spiraled into the cool twilight air. A chilly breeze cooled the perspiration dripping down his back and face like a natural air conditioner. Beginning to feel spent he decided to pause on a small outcropping, blowing like a nervous stallion surveying his territory. His frigid gaze drifted across the misty landscape, irises having such a pale coloration that they merged with twin sclera, contrasting sharply with raven black pupils. A path, probably created by the herds of deer that lived in the area, cut through a nearby field. The field was overgrown with weeds and tall, wild grass that slowly choked out what was left of the crop from several years before. Curiosity got the best of Michael and he decided to trudge down the path and investigate.
The sun began to dip beneath the horizon; it's fiery fingers licking across the somber terrain. Michael gasped softly inhaling the crisp, fresh air. For a moment he thought he smelled fresh hay, maybe even the sickly sweet smell of horsehair. The faint crunch of old steel tractor wheels on hard ground drifting to his ears. Something caught the cuff of his jeans, and he tripped, landing hard on his hands and knees. Something sharp bit into his palms, and penetrated the dark blue denim covering his long legs. Scrambling to his feet, Michael gazed in confusion at his hands. In the dim light he could see small specks of blood, but it was nothing major. Wiping the blood off on his pants, he searched the ground for the culprit and what he saw shocked him.
The ground was no longer weeds and tall grass. It was corn stubble. Lifting his gaze he realized it wasn't twilight either but bright day! In the distance he could see several large, red-chestnut colored mules pulling a plow. Looking back at his hands to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, he heard a snap like someone stepping on the broken stalks. Looking up again he saw standing before him a beautiful woman. She was older, but still very beautiful. Her long, silvery blond hair cascaded down her back in moon washed ripples. She wore a sheer white dress that accented her shapely figure and a stunning agate pendant adorned her slender, swanlike neck. She reached out a hand to Michael, but he quickly realized that she wasn't pointing at him but past him. Turning he saw an old, black Ford Sedan racing across the field. It's tires churned up the dust sending reddish clouds billowing into the air, only to dissipate moments later, settling back onto the fertile ground from whence it came. A strange, numb feeling drained Michael's strength. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid. It was more of a peaceful, reassuring feeling. He blinked his cold, bluish eyes as he wearily collapsed onto his knees. The feeling of the broken corn stalks pushing into his legs faded. Moments later, he was back. His wounds tingled as the cold night air hit the exposed flesh, but other than that mild discomfort he felt fine. Getting to his feet he ran from the field, the tall grass whispering eerily as it brushed against his body. He didn't stop until he was back at the farm.