A Child's Fear
I’m in a familiar barren field, enclosed by the surrounding foothills. The dry landscape is devoid of significant life but the scattered dusty, green sagebrush. Cold pellets of rain start to fall. Small flashes of lightning illuminate the land from behind angry thunderous clouds, revealing in the middle of the acreage, a single pear tree. It’s long, healthy branches stretch towards the sky bearing it’s perfect fruit. In front of the tree stands the figure of a woman, a white sheet pressed against her body, it’s corners flowing in the wind, snared on her limbs as if after being blown through the sky. The wind picks up and the rain falls heavier as a clap of thunder echoes, and the tree’s leaves and fruit get taken by the stormy wind. I look again at the woman, hovering just an inch from the earth, starting to approach me. Her dark brown hair billows behind the sheet, unbothered by the storm surrounding her. The once beautiful tree stands lifeless now in the middle of this storm. The woman’s arm slowly extends outwards, moving closer before stopping in front of me, to reveal in her hand a pear. The ripe pear suddenly turning black begins molding; it withers and wrinkles and disintegrates in her palm. I look up at her for understanding but her covered visage makes no movement. The dust of the once-fruit slips between her fingers. Her mouth abruptly hangs open behind the pressed sheet, until finally one word leaves her lips-