Parker Zurbuch

It was a lonely, silent night. The sun just having set its rays behind the plains of flowing wheat. One night it was. A relative quiet filled the air, a train whistle heard in the distance. Something was off, but no one to witness. A barn cat purred while scratching its back against a growing elm tree. The wheels of the train, hitting the uneven seams of the tracks, screamed into the dark. Clap clap, clap clap. There was a stressful thought whispering upon the wind as an old, beaten down Cutlass Ciera turns down the gravel drive of an ancient farmhouse. The grass recently mowed, but not pristine in appearance. The last bit of sunlight faded as a figure opens the car door, and places one barefoot upon the drive, feeling the rocks between his toes. As his head ducks slightly under the car roof, he scoots himself out and stands, leaning on the door. His shadow is struck in front of him, barely visible in the fading light. He breathes heavily and raspie. A hollow man he is. No one seems to...

A vision clouds itself forth within the mind. Bright fields with warm light from a steady sun. A rippling pool. Tepid air blowing the fields of wheat, as though they were running across the earth. Birds chirped quietly in a large maple tree whose leaves grew crimson in the hot sun. Coarse sand stood at the bank of a small pond; the water still and lifeless. Algae bloomed on the surface, creating a green carpet almost thick enough to walk upon. The toes of a young child tipped into the waters edge, as he sat upon the shore. Sand. Then, green grass for the length of a gunter’s chain. Lastly, the field of wheat leading to the small cottage that sat upon a hill. His parents knew he would be here. A frog jumped into the pool via the bank adjacent to the boy. This slightly startled him out of his deep thoughts. Two dragon flies buzzed by his head, stuck together in a mating dance. The boy had come down to the water to fill his canteen, but seeing the algae growth he reconsidered his decision...