Dread

I peer through the fog and try to make out the unfocused images in the distance. I concentrate, perhaps unconsciously furrowing my eyebrows and squinting slightly. At first I see only nebulous shapes, but then slowly the shapes begin to materialize into something more concrete. Suddenly I am able to make out the pictures.

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I am walking, hurrying down a narrow path through the trees. A bright canopy of green towers above me. It is mild and comfortable. I am not alone. There is a man with me. Under other circumstances it would have perhaps been a nice day, but anxiety lies thick upon my brow. We move quietly without talking. We move swiftly with our nervousness ringing continually in our ears. The trees open up and we pass into a clearing. Quickly we glance around to ensure that we are alone before proceeding, and then we keep moving. The long grass sways gently in the fields. There is a soft wind at our back. The conditions for travel are favourable.

Suddenly we hear that dreaded unmistakable low hum in the distance. We haven’t any time. Our tension mounts as we momentarily freeze like deer caught in headlights. We must act quickly. The hum grows steadily louder. I scan the landscape. Nothing but a black dot in the distant skyline. A small country church stands nearby. Interesting roofline, a small portion sweeps low on the backside, leaving a minute space where we could crawl through and crouch underneath. We rush towards it, hoping no one sees us. We approach from both sides and quickly contort ourselves through the opening and try to make ourselves comfortable in our confined space.