Between The Sunflowers
He sat between the sunflowers, counting the ants as they crawled across his toes. “27”…”28″—He paused, swearing that he’d seen this one before. “What the hell, 29.”
He sat beneath the oak tree in his back yard, sticky from sunflower sap. The sun, hot and high, rested in the sky strait above him. He would often stare at it, until his eyes stung and he could see the purple spots even after he looked away.
He was running, through the halls in the decaying house. Running from the invisible phantoms with their malevolent smiles and sinister goals. Running from the silhouette at the end which was shaped much like his father, only far too tall. Running, with starving lungs and heavy feet as the floor screamed and walls shook, as the windows began to fracture and the entire foundation was torn from the earth under the weight of his fear.
Running, towards the sunflowers, which stood and beautiful under the afternoon sun.