Snakes Don't Bite Their Owners

Misplaced Comfort

Halfway between where I used to be and where I wasn't going, I realised I was running along a random dirt road with a random sweaty-handed boy holding a random handful of carrots. 

I stopped running. I should go home.

After he realised I wasn't following him anymore, Axel stopped too.

"You okay?"

"Where are we going?"

"To the farm of course."

"The farm?"

"Yes, the farm. Are you coming or not."

On a scale of 1-10, this seemed very sketchy. So naturally, I continued walking. 

"It's not too far... just past that lamppost to the left of the telephone wires, then through a field of corn and over a stack of rusty bike bits."

I should probably be worried or something... but I felt like I could trust this guy. Maybe it was his lack of facial hair, or the fact that we have the same taste in gum. There was just something about him that screamed I am NOT taking you to this farm to handcuff you to a haybale and proceed to steal your stolen belongings. 

After all, he did kind of save me back there at the convenience store. 

"Hey, um... thanks for saving me back there."

"Oh. Yeah, sure." 

Even though it was practically pitch black, his cheeks illuminated the air with a fiery glow. 

Now that I wasn't completely embarrassing myself... or fleeing from thieves (I have decided that's what they were based on the fact they were dressed up like evil kittens - minus the ears, the tail, and the whiskers - with only their eyes showing... and had wads of cash flying out of their pockets), I was able to really look at Axel.

He had a small face with a crooked nose and his hair (which was now completely soaked) stuck to his forehead and refused to let him see - he didn't seem to notice. He was tall... but not too tall, and though his most prominent muscle was likely his adam's apple, I guess he does some kind of sport because he wasn't hyperventilating like a soggy rat (as I was) after running for however long we did. 

He doesn't say much. At least not aloud. He's probably too busy having imaginary conversations with imaginary characters in his imaginary stories in his imagination.

Imagine that.

"Axel, what are you thinking about?"

"Hmm?"

"You seem to be thinking about something. I mean, you certainly can't not be thinking about something... that's got to be impossible. Even when you don't think you're thinking about something, you end up thinking about how you think you're not thinking about something which is still thinking... so, what are you thinking about?"

"Trees."

"Why trees?"

"Why not."

Then he started running again.

"HEY! Stop. What are you doing??? You can't just leave me here." 

So I followed him

He turned left ahead so I did the same, but he was much faster than I was and I quickly lost sight of him.

"Axel?"

Thousands of flimsy green things whacked me in the face. and arms. and legs. and all the rest of me as I pushed forward. 

I was in a friggin cornfield. And I was alone.

I repeat: I WaS aLOnE iN A fRigGin cOrNfiELd.

"Axel, this isn't funny."

I started to hear footsteps and felt a wave of relief rush over me. A wave that drowned not two seconds later in a tsunami of fear once I realised the footsteps were coming from behind me. 

I knew I had no chance of out-running whoever, or whatever, it was, so instead, I chomped away at the oxygen that was tickling my nostrils - accidentally inhaling some of my own hair in the process - and stood as still as a scarecrow waiting for the sounds to pass. 

The scuttling became trotting and then thumping... until, eventually, it stopped. 

I waited for as long as my lungs would let me before coughing out some leftover air and glugging handfuls more. After a minute or two I still didn't feel alone, but I decided to continue walking...

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.