The Corn Field

I seem to have gotten a little carried away with this week’s San Diego Momma freewriting prompt. The assignment was to complete this sentence: “You are in a corn field, with your dog, when all of a sudden, a plastic…”

Attempt #1
You are in a corn field, with your dog, when all of a sudden, a piece of hard plastic hits your cheek, so hard your head jerks. Your skin keeps stinging, even after you see the tiny action figure lying in the dirt and hear the giggles from among the rows of cornstalks.

Suddenly, you hate your brothers. You hate them with a rage that pours into you and fills you, sloshing in your head and erasing all logical thought. You are chasing them through the field, cursing them.

They find this funny. They are laughing so hard they stumble as they run, yet still they manage to easily evade you.

By the time you reach the edges of the field and the beginnings of the yard you are wheezing, unable to yell. You fold onto the grass, still gasping your threats. Eventually, you put your head down on the grass and feel the blades, surprisingly cool, prickle against your skin.

The awareness of dinner prickles you as well. You know that you’re going to have to clean yourself up, slog into the kitchen, and cook. And you know that they’re going to smirk at you as they eat, glorious victors claiming their feast, too oblivious to even consider who might have made it.

Attempt #2
You are in a corn field, with your dog, when all of a sudden, a plastic water bottle falls from the sky. Another. Another. It is raining plastic bottles and you race to the house to take shelter. There, you google “plastic water bottle” and discover this is an environmental protest, and that your corn field has been selected as the ideal location.

When the rain stops, you emerge. You remember the glass house in your home town, created by the retired mortician. The horrible drops of green embalming fluid still trapped in some of the bottles, balanced by the appeal of the actual creation, thousands of bottles stacked like shimmering bricks.

You begin to build. The corn field is the perfect location. You have always hated corn fields anyway, ever since you and Suzanne rented Children of the Corn in high school. Even though you only watched the first five minutes, the fear stayed with you.

When you have finished the house, you build a small version next door for your dog. And then you wonder why you have a dog. You don’t particularly want a dog. A memory crystallizes… it was that woman. The one in San Diego. The one who comes up with these ideas… the dog is her fault.

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