In the lonely fields of southern Kentucky the wind was blowing and the

Sun was just as hot as ever. A man, of about 67 years of age, was in those

same fields, just as lonely as the grass he sat in. His long beard was covered in

a mixture of spit and tobacco juice, and he wore a scratchy pair of overalls

with patches everywhere.



This was his home, so naturally he spent all his time here. When he

wasn’t chugging down his beer, he was looking. To the common person it

would look like staring, but if you looked really close you could see his green,

intense eyes moving. He noticed the bluebirds in the trees. The almost orange

hue the sky gave off, and how the grass moved with the wind. What he loved

most of all was the sun. It was so warm and bright.



On this day in fact, the sun was especially warm. The man’s vision was

getting hazy. The sun was closing in. He could remember that he used to sit in

these same lonely fields when he was around 14. The sun was getting brighter,

and brighter. His heart was pounding. He used to be a tall boy, with wiry

brown hair. The colors were shifting and warping. He remembered that he

used to hate living here. The sun was right on top of him. He tried to run

away, but his grandmother doesn’t like to give things up. The sun was right in

his face. He couldn’t breathe. He was gasping for air, he couldn’t take it

anymore. He was slipping. He was trying to pull back life. It was too hard. He

couldn’t do it. So he stopped fighting the sun, he wouldn’t win anyway.



Wendell Jonas, a man of 67, was pronounced dead that same day.


Fifty-three years into the past, the same tall boy of 14 was in the lonely fields of

Southern Kentucky picking corn. He had wiry brown hair, and intense green

eyes. It was the middle of June, and the sun was setting. He would have to

work until dark or else he couldn’t eat anything until dawn the next day. This

was his favorite time of the day. Sunset, the perfect harmony between night

and day. He liked to think of himself as day, and his grandmother night. Always

fighting and arguing.



Just a few more moments, and he would be able to go inside were he

would be welcomed in by a warm screaming match from his grandmother. The

sun was about to go down. The sun was barely in the sky. he took off his gloves.

You couldn’t even see the sun. This was beautiful, a true masterpiece painted

In the sky for me. He was just starting to take in the full effect when my

grandmother called, rather shouted.


“WENDELL JONAS! GET BACK IN HERE, AND STOP DALLYING!”





My grandmother was a spiteful and hateful women. She always wore her

hair up in a bun of tasseled, unkept, gray hair. Her wrinkles looked like little

caves on her face, they were so deep and squishy she probably hid all of her

money in there. When her husband died, she inherited quite a bit of money so
she bought a corn farm. I was forced to work there, I was also her only

employee so I was expected to do the work of ten people, rather then just

one. I marched back in to the house, and kicked my shoes off into the corner.

The carpet was green and looked like it hadn’t been vacuumed in years. In the

most comfy chair in the house sat my grandmother reading the newspaper with

one leg crossed over the other.


“Hello,” I spoke calmly and quietly. I found it so hard to lose my temper

with her. She looked up from her newspaper just for a second before putting it

back down.


“What do you want?” Ok, relax just keep your cool Wendell.





“Just being polite.” Ok, deep breaths and every thing will go fine.


“After dinner I want you to go mow the yard.” Ok, see? Everything is fine.


“I already did.” She looked up from her newspaper and I already knew I

made the first wrong move.


“Did I ask you if you already did?” She got up from her chair.


“No, you didn’t” Ok, don’t do anything stupid here Wendell.



“THEN GO MOW THE LAWN!” She was in my face now. I could count the

hairs in her nose. It took all my self control not to blow up right back.


“I already did though! How can you expect me to mow a lawn that’s

already been mowed?!?” I knew I crossed the line. My vision instantly turned

into something else. I saw her hand twitch. My instincts kicked in. Before I
could think, before I could do anything about it, my hand snapped up and smacked her across the cheek. My hand was red, but I couldn’t really feel

anything. What I did see though was a gigantic hand print across her face. It

looked like a giant went and hit her. Not a 14 year old boy.



Before I knew what was happening I was up in my room. I through down

my dresser, and shoved its contents into a bag that I withdrew from my

closet. I didn’t know what to do. I was in panic. It was like everything I have

ever known was just erased. I ran down the steps into my grandmothers

bedroom and threw down her glass mirror in a frantic search of money. Glass

shattered everywhere. I was seeing my reflection in 1,000 places. Finally I

found some money, I shoved it into my bag and ran out of her bedroom,

through the living room and out the kitchen.


“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOUR GOING?!” Her eye was covered by her

hand. I could see raw fury coming out of her nostrils. She was staring at me

with such a stare, it would put soldiers to there mercy.


I stared right back. I didn’t care anymore. I. Was. Done. I was not going

to ever set forth in that nasty field again. Never going to ever pick corn again.

And I was never going to come back here again.



“AWAY! WHERE YOU’LL NEVER FIND ME!” I kicked down the front door.

Amazed by my own strength, I sprinted away from that retched house. Now

that I actually escaped, I didn’t know what to do. I decided the best thing to do

would be to run into the corn field and hide out there for awhile.



My legs were burning when I made it to the field. I ran into the corn

field. I could hear the old hags screams of rage. She would never expect me

to hide in the one place I was running away from.



In my haste to escape I completely forgot about the squirrel traps

hidden in the corn field. I tripped over one and cut my foot open. I made a

sharp intake of breath. It stung. My hole leg went numb. I wasn’t going to be

able to go any farther. I sat down, trying to steady my breathes. I sat like that

for maybe a hour.



Just when I thought it was safe to come out, I noticed an unusual

silence. I couldn’t hear anything. A twig broke under my wait. That’s when I

heard the hounds. Frantic, I laid down flat on my stomach hoping for the best.

I couldn’t hear anything yet, but that was just the calm before a storm.



I could hear there barking. They were tracing me out by smell. I just

realized my mistake right after it was too late. There was nothing I could do. They were going to find

me no matter what I did. I prepared myself as best I could for what I knew

was to come. I heard the stalks of corn brake under the wait of the dogs.


My breath did an intake. The pain was astounding. Dogs were coming at me in

all directions. My skin was braking like it was a puddle on a muddy day. Blood

was everywhere. I couldn’t breathe. My Leg. My Ear. My fingers. Everything

felt like it was in a raging storm of an inferno.




“CALL IT OFF!” Just before I was about to faint someone called it off.

Thank the heavens for that. I looked up to try to see my savior. It was my
Grandmother.


“Thank you officer! I was just so worried where my poor grandson

could’ve gone!” I was the only one who could see through her phony smile.













“No problem mam,” said the officer, who was oblivious to the fact that

he was talking to a dirty rotten scumbag. The officer left, and it was just the

two of us.






“Why did you do that, why did you call it off?” I wanted answers. She

could of made this seem like a big accident. She could of gotten rid of me. So

why didn’t she?




“Because, you are my grandson. As much as I hate you, I don’t want you

dead. Besides, you’re the best corn picker I have.” I could just here the sneer

in her voice.


“And I wanted an apology. You shouldn’t of hit me.” Oh, this was just

Getting better and better. She’s right though, I shouldn’t have hit her.


“Sorry.”




“Now, let’s go back to the house for your punishment.” I could just hear

the smile in her voice as she said that. I knew that I was in for a good, old

fashion beating, and she knew that I knew. A huge malicious smile spread

across her evil and twisted face. I was still limp from the dogs, I couldn’t walk,

I had blood all over my body, I was going to go get beaten, and I knew that I

was stuck here forever. I knew that I would die here. I knew that I would have

to live with my grandmother until I was grown. I knew that I wouldn’t be able

to leave until she died. I was her own little prisoner. Her own little slave.

She won. I lost. Game over.