Traveling down a road along a hill. A green, green hill. The roads seem so hot but the grass seems so cold and the wind whispers into my ears. The sky is blue but it's so dull that it seems gray. The sun was in my eyes and would not leave them. I felt something watching me through the sun and behind me.
My body shivers and aches and itches. I feel as if I'm about to collapse but I won't because I still have a few miles until I hit the Atlantic and dammit I wasn't going to give in yet. The color green pervaded and leaked into everything including my soul.
Am I dreaming? Am I asleep? Is this a nightmare or is it a haven or is it hell or maybe even heaven?
I lose track of time. I lost track of time. What is this space? Where am I? Am I walking along a dirty dirt road or am I burning alive in emerald flames? Am I alone or is Something watching, waiting, working?
I can see the marsh and the beach and the Atlantic. I'm approaching them slowly but surely. I scratch my head and rub my eyes. A sense of peril pushes through my veins and heightens my fear but I push it away; nothing was following me, right? Nothing could be following me. Nothing would follow me. Why would anything do that? No, of course not. Nothing stays. Nothing.
I'm going East.
The highway begins again and I'm walking alongside it and I imagine trucks passing by and imagine them stopping and asking me what I feel like and I imagine not knowing what to say. I met a trucker earlier. No, really, I did. He picked me up and dropped me off. He did I remember.
The squeals from the trees below won't stop. They squeak and scream and creak and I can't hear them without hurting. The trees, at some moments, resembles a sea of green fire. It hurts my eyes to look at and a taste like ash and blood and wild sage floods my mouth.
Where am I going again?
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