originally written in December '03

"Keep quiet. We don't know what's out there." The soldier's eyes darted back and forth over the darkening field as he felt his feet sink further into the muddy earth. The squelch his boot made when he picked up his foot was deafening to him; he cursed himself silently. He'd be dead if they heard him. He clutched his rifle tightly against his chest, cocked his head slightly, strained his ears and listened.

Silence. Not even crickets chirping. No wind, no birds, no movement; just him, his troops, and the endless rows of corn stretching forebodingly into the darkening distance. Even the shadows were silent.

Trying to get as low as possible, the soldier slowly started to creep towards the old gray barn about a hundred feet in front of him, all the while signalling his men to stay still. Every couple of feet he'd pause and listen for something, for anything. It was too quiet. Even the usual insects weren't making any noise. Silence. His troops weren't making any noise.

He glanced backwards to where his men where. Except his men weren't there. There was nothing there. Nothing. Just an endless field of corn, a rundown barn, and a slow trickle of sweat running down his cold chin onto the ground. Fear clenched his heart as he realized he was alone, that they had gotten his troops. They got his troops. Took them from right under his nose. Impossible. The whole thing was impossible. He would have heard. Impossible. He would have heard.

The sound of a corn stalk snapping broke the silence. Dread seeped into his skin, freezing him in place: it was right behind him. Another stalk snapped. Another trickle of sweat worked itself down his face. It was getting closer. Time slowed down as he waited for something. Anything. He couldn't move, couldn't turn around to see what was behind him. Couldn't do anything. He could almost feel the icy fingers grabbing the back of his neck, tearing his life from his body, limb by limb, sucking his soul from his flesh. His body.

Snap. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't wait for it, couldn't bear the silence. He whipped around in the air as he threw himself onto the ground, opening fire with his rifle, stabbing the night with 6 cold bullets, each ringing out and disappearing into the darkness. The world came to a stop.

The silence following his shots was bigger and more powerful than anything he had felt in his life. The entire world was focused on him, watching and waiting for the right moment. Time slowly ticked away. There was no movement. The seconds melted into minutes. Nothing behind him, nothing above him, nothing around him. Only stillness.

There was no way they didn't know he was coming now. They were probably watching him right now, peeping through the rows and rows of corn, watching. Laughing. His hairs bristled as a long cold shiver ran down his back. Eyes darting back and forth, he strained to find some sign of life. Anything. An insect. A bird. Them. But there was only silence. It surrounded him, engulfing him in its nothingness. Alone.

Hours passed in a few minutes times. He wasn't even sure how long he had lay on the ground waiting for them to find him and take him away, wasn't sure how long he had been slinking through the endless field of corn, who he was fighting, why he was there. Wasn't sure if he was alive or dead, or somewhere in between. Wasn't sure.

He lay there for hours longer as the night sky continued into icy blackness. He knew day wasn't coming. It couldn't. It was too dark. All he could do was wait.