LOST IN A SEA OF GRASS

He closed his eyes. Nothing made any sense. The single fact about himself he was sure of was that he was thirsty. If he didn't get water soon, he didn't know how much longer he could go on. But, then, he had no idea of how long he'd been walking. Forever seemed about right. That was the truth of it. He had been walking for as long as he could remember.

He leaned forward a moment, his hands pressing on his thighs, trying to drum up enough energy to continue. But where? Where was he going? This field was huge and it encompassed his known life. There had to be an edge to it, somewhere there had to be a beginning, an end. Didn't there? Didn't everything begin and end somewhere? He wasn't sure of that. He wasn't sure of anything but that his tongue almost stuck to the roof of his mouth in its dryness.

Sucking in a great gasp of air, he forced himself to walk. The grass was tall, with little puffy seedheads of something scattered thickly through it. He had no idea what they were. As he passed through them, little bits of white puffs clung to his tattered brown pants. How much further? He squinted his eyes, looking at the horizon. The field went up a long slope, disappeared down its far side. Perhaps it had no ending? That seemed quite possible. What if he simply stopped, just stopped right here and lay down in the tall grasses? Would that matter? Did anything matter?

No, something in him said press on. Each step harder than the one just taken, he slogged up the slope. Pausing at the top, he listened. What was that? The wind made a sighing sound as it moved through the grass, but there was something more. Water! It was water flowing over rocks somewhere in that line of trees at the bottom of this side of the slope. Oh, God! Water! He began to run, stumbling, falling on the steep ground, struggling to his feet, running again. His toe hooked on a small rock, sending him flying forward. He landed hard and began to roll. Over and over his body turned, almost hurtling down the slope, only stopping when the ground flattened not far from the trees. He lay still, lost in the grasses, lost now in the arms of darkness.