• I gazed at the field in front of me. Decrepit and sickly were the first two words that came to mind. The grass was like a span of golden blond hair that grew from the dandruff covered scalp that was the dirt below. The flowers drooped in an eternal depression, where once they were joyful and green and bright. The air was dead, as dead as oxygen can be. There was no scent, I remember quite clearly. No warmth, no feeling but a chilling wind that moved only occasionally, swaying the endless volume of dead foliage beneath my feet.

    I moved my left foot carefully, as if stepping over thin ice or a minefield. The dirt beneath (which had doubtfully ever known moisture before in its existence) cracked and separated from itself as I made my one small step forward. For the life of me I couldn’t explain this frightening hesitance. Perhaps the silence unnerved me. Though the very logical side of my brain knew with much certainty that the odds of being hurt in this field by some prowling creature were little, the other side had heard the stories and rumors.

    It heard the same tales that were told far and wide - though somehow, I don’t quite remember how, it went along with the dare that brought me here in the first place – the same accounts of people disappearing and the consequences to the minds of those who made it back to human lands. ‘Human lands’ implying of course that there are indeed inhuman territories.

    “Impossible,” that logical side claims suddenly, denying the fallacies and tall tales. I was perfectly safe here. Though, the frightened corner of my psyche wondered if this was true.

    Another tiny and insignificant step in front of me and I swear to God above that I’ve just heard some incoherent sentence strung in words of an unearthly language, the vernacular of Mars or some other such origin. My hands retreated to my coat’s pockets, nervously fingering the keys that I formulate an attack plan around.

    Improbable situation after improbable situation rushed through my head as I chose to remain stationary. Adrenaline should have kicked in already; of course, it chose to take its sweet time. Ah! There it was, but now I had to make the split-second decision: fight or flight?

    Fight apparently, I whipped out the keys and took a more confident position. There was still no other being visible at the time, but I was very prepared should this change soon.

    “Hannah,” a demonic voice screeched at me, “Hannah.”

    I am not one of those people who asks ‘who are you’ or ‘how do you know my name’ when faced with a seemingly omniscient being who seems to be from another realm. First of all: always assume evil spirit. Secondly: telepathy, obviously. My first question was more of an answer in question form than a true query.

    “Yes, sir?”

    The thing seemed to be amused, though I couldn’t tell by looking. I still couldn’t see the thing. But I swore I heard laughing.

    My previous answer has been changed. I chose flight at the last moment. Running with all the urgency that I didn’t seem to have minutes ago. I stumbled, as if suddenly cursed with two left feet, across the rough terrain and towards the edge of the dead grass and flora. I figured that outside of the range of the satanic being, I was safe. All concern for anything but surviving was gone. Pain was irrelevant if I only lived. I jumped wildly, flailing in mid-air and waving my arms back and forth as if in greeting to gravity as I fell just on the other side of the field. (The grass is greener on the other side.)

    Something snapped, I was pretty sure I could hear it. But I was darn well pleased to be out of that circle of dark witchery and other such things, at least I assumed.

    The ground under me now was soft again, and muddy in contrast to the desert-dry earth I had grown so ‘close’ to in the past few moments – I had to remind myself several times that I had only been there for two or three minutes at the most. From the corners of my eyes I could see the green, that beautiful luscious color that while only being feet away from me the whole time, was incredibly comforting now. The air was still cold (in Greenland it always is, just a little side note), but my joy transformed it into a jollier atmosphere.

    My heart almost stopped however when I heard footsteps. While silence was unnerving, footsteps were mortifying. I tried to roll over and crawl away. But unless my ears deceived me I heard a shy little ‘wait’.

    This was not the same evil voice from before. This was something new, though frighteningly familiar.

    “Hey Hannah,” the voice squealed anxiously, “April Fool’s…?”