She stood across the way on Snicket Ave. Sam Christie did not know what was lying beyond those rows, but that was not the point. She knew that in those depths were the answers to her questions. The questions that had been plaguing her day and night. The only thing that stopped them from consuming her were the voices.
The voices that whispered in her ear.
The voices that pleaded with her to dive into the depths and not look back.
Sam knew that the voices advocated for them. Knew that once she dove, she would be free of the weight on her shoulders.
Yet she resisted. Day and night she held her questions back, she held back the, "what if's?" and the, "how could's?" and most importantly, the "why's?"
Why?
Sam saw Mrs. Miller coming towards her.
She did not want to talk to Mrs. Miller.
Sam turned, and, without thinking of Agatha, or Garth, or Dave, or Lance, she walked away from Snicket Ave. Walked away from the yellow cornfield.
YOU ARE READING
Across from the Yellow Cornfield
Short StoryThis is a cool short story that I think you should check out. I'm not going to say more because it's so short that one sentence could ruin the whole theme.
