Fear from within

Slipping out of it

It starts as a normal time. Sitting with friends around a campfire, talking about plans to take a trip into the woods in the coming week. The smoke from the fire blows in your face so you close your eyes and raise a hand. Only when opening then do you feel confused by counting six digits infront of your face. Odd, it had been five when you started. Panicking you jump up and pull it away before the extra finger disappears. Seeing five digits was atleast calming. Looking back for your chair you see your friends now leaning on a railing overlooking a lake. Before questioning the location the jumbled words they speak is jarring to you. These where your friends, but they spoke in a language you couldn't understand.

While sitting with your friends you fall back over the railing to have it fold in on itself like a bed sheet only to find yourself standing in the middle of a grocery store. Pushing a cart down the aisle you're surrounded by familiar looking packages on the shelfs, yet their names escape you. The packaging isn't legible either. Neither are any of the voices that seemed to be mocking human speech coming from around you. You can't see anyone, even as you crest the end of the aisle. Stepping around the corner you're greeted with the sight of a bright green field overhung by blue skies and a pleasant sun. Questioning where the cart went; a quick glance behind is only more of the same lush greeness. 

The grass flows like shag carpet in the breeze while you make your journey into the horizon. The urge to see what lies overhead filling joints with anxiety and lactic acid. Before you can reach it though, your head crashes into where the floor and wall meet of a holding cell. Why were you here? You were innocent after all! Getting up, pressing against the bars to call out to the jailers you cry out. Days go by. Then months. Then years. The sun chases the moon faster and faster all the while you slowly begin to rot. It takes time to accept it all, but eventually there is peace. Then the door opens and strangely you find yourself reluctant to go. Now you're back with your friends, no time having passed with hands clasped to the arms of your chair. The words make sense, they're talking about a trip into the woods next weekend. You're back to normal. 

For now.