This is the prologue of a story that I am currently working on, but I figured since I’m already posting a bunch of random stuff here, I might as well post this.

Running as fast as I could, I headed straight for the cornfield.

It was the only place where I knew I would be safe from their clutches, safe from humanity and their evil desires.

I was panting hard by the time the cornfield came into view.

I could hear them gaining on me, though.

I pushed myself to go faster, pushed myself to live.

Once I was close enough, I dove into the safety of the cornfield and zigzagged through the maze, praying it would be big enough so that I wouldn’t be heading straight for the exit anytime soon.

I closed my eyes and kept running, tripping and running into the corn quite often.

I pictured this same place, the way it would have looked twenty years ago. The way it would have looked in the past.

The corn, undisturbed, danced to the beat of the wind.

The birds flew around, preying on the mice than ran and ran all through the field, not moving enough to make the corn notice them.

Ran, trying to survive.

To someone on the outside it would look as though it were the most beautiful of views, what with the sun setting on the background and the last rays of sunshine sending red, pink, and orange colors flying all over, painting the sky.

But, when you were the mice, when you were seeing it from the inside, it was a macabre war of survival. A war for life.

The mice, running for their lives, and the birds, flying after them to have some food for their young.

It was all about survival.

It had always been and it always would be, which was why I didn’t blame them for chasing me. Didn’t blame them for being scared of me and what I could do.

Peeking through my eyelashes, I looked behind me.

They were gaining on me.

I was the mice, and they were the birds.

I closed my eyes once more and my mind flashed back to the image I had created.

I willed myself to be there. To disturb the winds and make them change their beat. To distract the corn, and make them change their dance. To scare the birds away and save some of the mice.

To live.

I felt the winds shift around me, and I opened my eyes.

Glitching was something I had always enjoyed watching, no matter the situation.

I caught sight of the rainbow of colors flying all around me, everywhere I looked.

It was magnificent.

Little by little, the scene in front of me changed.

On the background behind me, where a 24 story building had stood just seconds ago, now stood something so small—or maybe even nothing—that it could not be seen over the corn, which now stood frozen in place, waiting.

The crickets’ melodious song had ceased, as if though they sensed an intruder, something that did not belong, and the lights had all but disappeared.

The moonlight was all I had now, and even that was not enough.

I stood alone, in the same cornfield, in a different time.

The mice had won this time.


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