Ringing

Ringing and ringing, the phone called for me in its shrill voice. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.

Muffled through my pillow, yet just audible enough to be nagging, the phone's persistence paid off.

The choice to leave my warm bed behind was a hard one, but once it was made, I had to commit. If only I could apply this practice to the rest of my life, I might not be woken up at all hours by the usual unexpected phone call.

I knew

I knew it was evening because of how low the sun was on the horizon, but beyond that details were a bit foggy. Looking around, I saw that I had woken up in an empty field. It certainly wasn't one of the lush, green rolling meadows that I can still see so vividly in my mind's eye from my childhood. No, this field was brown and desolate. Sparse plantlife scattered throughout a dusty plain provided little shelter or nourishment for any creature unfortunate enough to have found themselves looking for either in this place.

Checking myself for injuries I was relieved to be relatively unharmed. The absence of my ID and watch, however, were somewhat disconcerting. Trying to retrace, step by step, the events of the past 18 hours or so prooved to be even more unsettling.

I knew that my now filthy rag of a gown was once an eye-catching cotoure creation merely hours ago. I remembered leaving Sam's album release party with a horrible migraine, yet I didn't remeber getting into my car.