When the Meadow Walks

The stench of rotting honeysuckle mixed with decaying leaves as the breeze from the outlands drifted into Meadow’s scrunched-up face as she focused on chipping the weathered paint from the sunbaked building. Community service was a real punishment in her eyes, she thought bitterly as she ran the metal end of the paint scraper once again, covering herself and the ground below in white flecks of disappointment.

One time. One time she tried to help this backwards town, and this was her reward. How was she supposed to know that the old Jenkins man wasn’t robbing the bank? He had a weapon didn’t he? And how was she supposed to know that a cane for his clearly fake limp, wasn’t actually a weapon? She had meant well. She had apologized for the trouble she’d caused and for smacking him with his own cane. How could she have known he was a war hero? Right? Just trying to help, that’s all she was doing.

But no. Here she was covered in dirt, dust, and sweat, as she worked her hands into callouses and people mocked her as they walked beneath. Never again. If this town were in trouble, she would never help it again, she thought. Better yet, maybe she could leave this place and head out into the outlands to make her own way. Bet someone out there would appreciate her and her helpful nature. Pausing in her labor, she glanced at the outlands—a void that stretched around the town eating all the warm light in its path. The elders often spoke of the monsters that lived deep in the outlands and all the destruction they’d once caused. A chill skittered over her skin, and she shook her head as she returned with more vigor to her assignment. Maybe she would just find a way to make amends rather than try her hand at the outland.

Late that night she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how her life had gone so terribly wrong. At her age she should be on her own or raising a family; instead she was still sleeping in her childhood bed, her feet hanging off the end when she stretched, in the same room where her parents had birthed her. The familiar scent of peat embers from the fading day fire, freshly pressed chamomile tea, and the lingering musk of the rabbit they’d cooked for dinner floated on the firelight under the mouse-sized gap between the old oak door and the creaky cedar floor. Usually the scents of home brought peace to her mind, but tonight it only brought more unrest. Tossing the cotton blanket, lovingly made by her grandmother, she climbed out of the cot and eased her bedroom window open, cursing the creak.

It wasn’t the first time she had escaped into the midnight and away from the oppression of her loving family home, but it was the first time she’d heard the noise. A voice in the pitch darkness of the outlands. It was a small voice but somehow deep enough to resonate through her bones. Terrified; she wanted to step away but curious; she took a step closer to the dark. “Hello?” She whispered, afraid she would wake the night if she was too loud.

Nothing replied, but Meadow sensed she was not alone on the edge of darkness. Her nature had always been more curious than intelligent, or at least that’s what her parents had told her often. What was in the Outlands? Why were only certain hunters allowed to hunt for food in the outlands? Straining her ears, she tried to listen for any noise, but minutes went by, making her feel more foolish each second. With a huff, she lifted her night skirts and started to make her way back to her house and her cooling cot when a faint music drifted to her. The notes of the tune were soft, dripping with sadness, but an undercurrent of joy in the melody made her forget herself and walk straight into the darkness.

Meadow’s heart hammered in her rib cage to every beat of the music, but her feet continued to move forward seemingly on their own. Her eyes were unable to adjust to such vibrant darkness; instead, she stuck her hands out in front of her to feel her way through, never touching anything but the air in front of her, making her hands freeze from the icy chill of the air. But still she pressed on when good sense and her twisted gut told her to turn around, head home, and stop this madness.

The music only got louder as she walked, inch by inch, her bare feet soaking in the wet grass beneath her toes. The outlands had a rotting smell, or so she’d thought all the times she’d smell the wind that blew into town, but inside the void there was only a sweetness like warming cotton candy--with the lovely music and the tasty smell she had no idea why the outland had been off-limits.

She’d walked for so long her feet ached, her stomach growled, and her hands were practically frozen off her body. She’d thought of turning around, but the music continued to pull her forward to the unknown. After what had seemed like a lifetime of aimlessness, she stopped when a huge, shiny chunk of metal somehow floated in front of her. She reached out to touch it; the frigidness gave her shocks in her arms to her shoulders, making her quickly drop her hands and step back. That’s when she noticed the small pinprick of light in the distance. She walked on.

The pinprick grew into a giant gray mountainous land with dusty sand that filled her nose with the scents of sulfur and static, making it twitch and her sneeze unpleasantly. Still she bent down to take a rock from the foot of the mountain, tucking it into her nightdress as proof of this grandly odd adventure she was undertaking in the outlands. She explored the barren mountains, thinking how sad a place it was, when something stole her breath. A brightly colored light beneath the mountains, greens and blues shining bright in a warm sun glow. The music was loud enough now that it practically hurt her ears.

“That must be where it’s coming from.” She murmured to herself. Without an ounce of self-preservation or even a glance beneath her own feet, Meadow stepped off the mountainside and with a scream… fell.

The lighted world rushed up to greet her as a sudden flame licked her skin and the heavy air taxed her lungs. Whispered prayers, her parents, and all her bad life choices echoed through her mind as the wind stole her hearing and the song was lost to the panicked, loud beats of her heart. She landed so hard on the ground it gave way like a sponge and she sank. Whimpering in pain, she pulled herself to sitting and took stock. The hole was deep but not wide, the walls made of soft, wet dirt and roots of some type of plant, and the sky above was light blue with puffs of clouds and a creature's terrified face staring at her.

It didn’t seem like a danger with its soft skin, huge brown eyes, short dark hair, and no fangs inside its dropped chin, she thought. She started to climb out, and the creature backed away from the hole, which only made her feel safer. That is until she turned around and he held a weapon out at her.

“What the hell are you?” He breathed as the stick shook in his hands.

“What the hell are you?” she repeated back at him as she stepped out of the reach of his stick and glanced around, her eyes struggling to adjust to the colors and the light. “Where is this place? In the outlands?”

“The outlands? This is Earth and you just fell from the freakin’ sky. What are you?”

She looked down at my shimmering skin, filthy white nightgown, and golden hands and ran her tongue over her razor-sharp teeth and thought how hungry she was as she eyed the delicious-looking creature in front of her. “I’m a goddess.”

“A goddess of what?”

“Meadows.” She held out her hand, and flowers bloomed beneath it. “I’ll not hurt you, creature; come here and I’ll show you magic.”

It dropped the stick, bent to turn off the machine which played the music that led her there, but she stopped it. “Leave the music; I enjoy it.”

As if in a trance, the creature walked towards her, allowing her to wrap her arms around its body. The weeping cords drowned its single scream out, and the sobbing tune of the song's melody covered the struggling last breaths of life.

A perfect meal after a long journey.