HeatMarie

Bright light penetrated my closed eyes, and as I rolled onto my side, the gritty reality hit–I was lying in the dirt. “What the fuck? You can’t be serious.” In the shadows of the towering corn, their stocks swayed in the breeze, infusing the air with a raw, earthy scent. The fragrance had a memory, the kind that whispered secrets from the soil and murmured untold tales to the wind, determined not to be forgotten. A garden spider, with its black and yellow markings eerily vivid, wove its web above me. On a normal day, spotting the nasty thing inches from my face would have triggered a panicked escape. Let’s be honest, everybody knows these creatures are always on some covert mission to take down all unsuspecting humans. 

Yet, there I lay, captivated by the distant strains of a piano melody. The spider, a dancer of light and shadow, spun her complex web in perfect composition with the sun’s glistening spotlight. Together, they wove a tapestry of love and hope, a symbiosis between the delicate creature and the celestial luminescence. The music beckoned me, whispering my name, not with words, but with its graceful harmony. Crawling out from beneath the spider, I carefully preserved her intricate creation, stepped back, and brushed the dirt from my pants. 

“If this is heaven, I am seriously disappointed. Cornfields? I might not have been expecting white pearly gates or anything fancy. But this?” I flicked the stalk’s leaf, shaking my head. Nothing but endless rows of corn surrounded me. No Angels came from the sky, nor did demons crawl from the ground. No etched path guided the way. There was no light inside a tunnel, no bitter cold, no flames of hell. Instead, fresh air filled my lungs and the lingering music sought out my soul. “At least there is that.” I said, trying to sense where the music was coming from. It emanated from everywhere and nowhere all at once. With that, my hope of using it to find my way out of the corn maze vanished. 

A lively caw resonated from above, and a crow circled down to greet me. It pecked its beak on a small stone. “Are you…” My mind reverberated to the bird’s cry for help and the sickening sound that followed. Emotions coiled as it pecked on the stone again. I didn’t really think I was dead. I only thought I was dreaming. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was to be with Grams. There was supposed to be peace and beauty. When I wished for death, I wasn’t prepared for this. The world I knew was gone, the people I loved, no longer there. Gram’s death ripped away a golden thread that connected my heart to my stomach. For all eternity, an empty space would remain there without the hope or desire to ever be replaced. Now here I stood, and it wasn’t just a single golden thread violently wrenched from my body, it was everything that held me together. I collapsed to my knees. The bird walked to me and brushed his head against the back of my hand. His tiny beaded eyes reflected the emotions that swelled my eyes with tears. We were two souls tied together by the hands of a monster, and a golden thread wove between us. 

“What’s your name, little fella?” I asked. He made a small sound and again pecked his beak on the stone.

“Chip it is then.” Why Chip? The way he pecked at the stone reminded me of a carver chipping away at a piece of wood and using every stroke he made as a way to express himself. 

Chip looked around, then wandered a few paces back and forth.

“What cha’ thinkin’?” I asked.

“Caw,” he said, before spreading his wings and taking flight. He flew around me and landed a few yards ahead. Pattering his little feet, he turned back to me, tilted his head from side to side, and cawed. “You want me to follow you?” I asked, taking a few steps towards him. 

Replying, Chip emulated the same process as before. He spoke, spread his wings, flew a few feet, landed and patterned his little feet as he turned around. “Where are we going?” The words were foolish. Chip might have a name now, but he is still a bird — expecting an answer was absurd. Why should he care where I go? It could be one of those. Oh, what do they call them? Spirit things… entities, is it? Perhaps guides, yes, that’s it, a spirit guide. That’s only if you believe in such things, and I didn’t. Besides, if I did, mine would not be a black crow. No offense to black crows or anything.

I’m sure most people have never followed a bird. So I’ll just say it, even when no one is watching it’s bizarre. Just because you read about it in a fantasy novel and it sounds all cool and adventurous, it doesn’t feel that way. But what better things did I have to do? So, I followed the bird. “You better not be lying to me.”   

Walking through the cornfield, I barely noticed the corn stalks scratching against my skin or the time that slipped away. Eventually, we reached a dirt road which Chip effortlessly crossed and perched himself atop a black fence laced with blooming yellow rose vines. Pure bliss washed over me as I continued onto a cobblestone path. The air filled with serene murmurs from the thousands of delicate petals and the sun’s rays wrapped me in a warm embrace while a gentle breeze swept my long red hair from my face. The music–enchanting in every way. Every detail had been attentively created, every part of the path had its purpose, even when it turned back into dirt, every flower was placed in just the right spot, ensuring that the river was never obscured from view until it gracefully undulated itself into the forest.

 Chip had led me to paradise. My paradise, our paradise, it was created for the two of us. I walked slow enough to take in the beauty and almost fast enough to keep up with Chip, but not quite. He stopped right in the middle of the fork. “Which way do we go?” Stupid bird just spun in a circle. “Come on, you led me this far. Surely you know which path we should take.” He walked up to me and chipped his beak at my shoe. “You want me to choose?” He spun in a circle and again tapped on my shoe. 

To the left, the mansion at the base of the hill unfolded in a grandeur, a spectacle of elegance and luxury that seemed almost too perfect. Its music weaving a captivating spell that filled my mind with treasures–diamonds, roses, and intangible riches. A tantalizing promise lingered in the air, like soft seductive whispers in my ear.

To the right, the path winding alongside the tranquil river faded into the woods. Its feeling couldn’t be described as enticing or alluring. In fact, its feeling is one that can only be described as an incomprehensible sensation. With that, I will still do my best to describe it, for it is important. It didn’t fill me with warmth or a simple tingling. No, it was something else altogether. Something I had never experienced before. It had its own kind of charm, an adventurous excitement coiled into something delicate. It whispered of intimate mysteries and pulled at my soul like a subtle yearning of a veiled and forgotten parable.

“That way,” I pointed, indicating the path that led away from the music. Chip, my new avian companion, emitted a series of cheerful chirps as he flew in circles around me. “Yeah, I figured you’d like that, being a bird and all. After our last escapade indoors, I figure it’s best we just stick to being outside a little while longer. Last time didn’t work out too well for either of us.” He landed on my shoulder, nudged his beak to my face and took off into the trees. “Hey! Wait up!” Ugh, that stupid bird.

The trees formed a natural canopy alongside the path, guiding me towards a bridge that spanned the peaceful river. The gentle breeze became an abrupt, unsettling stillness, as if the very air held its breath. In that suspended moment, the tranquility gave way. No sirens were necessary to signal the impending storm. The next gust spoke volumes on its own with a sudden cold biting wind that thrust me backward with unexpected force. 

“CHIP! WHERE ARE YOU?” My desperate cry echoed, and each word entwined with the rolling thunder. “CHIP!” 

Lightning mercilessly struck a nearby tree, splitting it in half with an explosive crack. I stood alone, a solitary figure, witnessing the power of nature unfold into chaos. 

“CHIP! Damn bird, where are you?”

With a pang of regret gnawing at my gut, I turned, retracing my steps with urgency, sprinting back towards the mansion. Each footfall was a race against the storm. I wanted to turn back, call for Chip one more time. I wanted to at least know he was alive, or as alive as he could be in whatever place we were in. Again, I had failed him, again I had put him in the relentless hands of a monster.