Starlight On Kansas

Chapter 4

Kansas starlight. There is no sight prettier in all the world. 

That's a fact, by the way. 

Normally, all summer long I would be out here, in this wheatfield. Every night, even when it was cloudy, I would come with excitement even Christmas couldn't bring.

I had no intention of coming out here tonight, but my mind came back to irritate me some more and told me to come out here, see it one last time before I leave.

So now I'm standing in a wheat field in the middle of the night, staring at the sky. It's a bright, clear one. Billions of sparkling stars on a quilt of navy blue.

I suck in a breath of fresh night air and close my eyes. I'm surrounded by the soft hum of crickets, the last songs of birds as they settle for the evening, the rustle of wheat as it blows in the wind, a swishing sea of gold. The breeze, cool and crisp like an apple, pushes the frizzy, beaten strands of hair from my eyes and out of my face. I savor the feeling, the ability to block out the signs that I've become a monster. 

All I have to do is let my self be trapped by the stars, lost in their mesmerizing twinkle.

When I just stay focused on the night, everything seems perfect. 

But now the wind feels cold--almost electric. I jolt back into reality and squint as a glowing orb comes forward from the stars, hovering in place. It splits into two parts, then three. The parts begin to circle each other, intricate patterns. Around and around, over and over . . .

And I just stand. 

Watching. 

Waiting. 

My feet take inch forward the slightest amount. It's pulling me, begging me to chase it.

They surge with light that is both white and green, so bright it stings my eyes. 

And yet I can't stop staring. 

My legs move, one inch, then two, and suddenly I'm running--

There is only the rhythm of my feet pounding on the dirt, the air harsh and wild against my skin, the urge, growing stronger by the second, to get closer, to see it, know it, feel it.

They keep spinning, over and up and around, so fast it makes my head spin. But now, I can't stop. Everything's too fast, too shrill. My legs won't listen if I tell them to slow. 

Maybe it's because I don't want to.

Every step sends fire through my muscles and tightens the noose around my lungs. 

The lights glow brighter, urging me on, pulling on every fiber in my body.

It's inside of me.

Keep running, they whisper, still moving faster and faster, unaware of my struggle.

As am I, until my foot hits a rock, and I fly like a bird. My body hits the dirt with a heavy thud. My head pounds harder now, my legs practically numb.

I jerk my head up just in time to see them unite again as one and drop, drifting softly to the ground just a few feet in front of me. 

My limbs are numb and stuck, smashed and splayed into the soil. Even my eyes are frozen on the glimmering disk in front of me. 

It's not all that big in person--fifteen-feet around sounds right. The metal isn't white, not silver, but not quite black, either. Some shiny, reflective hybrid of the three. 

After a minute, a narrow, square door of the disk opens, and out step creatures straight from a comic book. 

Their skin is gray and waxy, bodies no wider than six inches. 

Their heads are the size of basketballs, and their eyes--

Their eyes stare into my soul. Deep black, like a stormy night, only shining under the light of the moon, the reflection so bright it hurts to stare at--

But I can't look away. 

I can't. 

I . . . my eyes can't move. 

I can't move. 

I CAN'T MOVE! 

My heart bangs painfully against my ribs, and I can't get enough air no matter how hard I gasp, as if my lungs are shrinking away. 

They are going to kill me. 

They are killing you. 

No. No. No. 

I'm not--NO!

The tallest one, right in the middle, extends a stiff, thin arm and spreads it's long, slick fingers before pressing them to the top of my head. 

I fall into the dark.