Emily's Meadow
“I see it!” Emily’s eyes dart from the rearview mirror back to the wet road ahead. “Shit! What do I do?”
Alex, Emily’s older sister, peers out the back window. The sky is sickly yellow but for a black tornado beneath a mass of rainclouds. Faint beneath the storm’s din, a monotone siren blares from some nearby town and echoes across the cornfields.
“Keep driving!” yells Alex. “We’ll outrun it!”
Emily points. “Look!”
Dozens of cars sit abandoned along the shoulders on both sides of the highway, doors open, adults and children running through the rain and throwing themselves into ditches.
“Should we stop and follow those people? We’re going to get blown off the road!”
“No! Try to reach the next overpass! We’ll be safer if we get beneath an overpass. Seriously, I’ve heard of people doing that.”
“Okay!” Emily steps on the gas, eyes locked on the rain-swept highway, her Prius jumping to sixty-five, then seventy miles an hour.
The funnel roars behind them with increasing speed. Trees are yanked out like loose teeth and sucked into its rotation. It advances along the highway, flinging people from the ditches. Others are inhaled directly into the tornado’s belly.
“Hurry! It’s getting close!”
Emily swerves to avoid a billboard that tears across the highway in front of them, its advertisement upside down.
“Seriously Em! Gun it!”
“I know! I know! Look, there’s an overpass up ahead!” She weaves around an abandoned car, trying to keep from sliding off the road. An out-of-control flock of birds comes within inches of the windshield. Wind and debris assault the car.
Alex puts a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Em, listen to me. As soon as we reach the overpass, jump out of the car and follow me up the slope. We need to get way up underneath of it, okay?”
Emily stares straight ahead. “Got it.”
A few seconds later she hits the breaks and they skid to the shoulder. Seatbelts fly; coats are snatched from the backseat. After sprinting up the concrete slope the sisters huddle beneath the overpass. The wind pounds against their bodies and whips up their hair.
“Oh my god, Alex,” Emily cries. “We’re going to die! We’re never going to see mom and dad again!”
Alex pulls Emily tight alongside her body. “We are not going to die, Em. Okay? Do you hear me?”
Just then a sharp object plows into Emily’s shoulder, tearing apart her coat. She shrieks in pain, and Alex jumps on top of her. Overhead the concrete rumbles and cracks apart. Neither hears themselves scream as the tornado hits the overpass.
A summer day. Larks sing from fence posts. Emily is now lying in a meadow of green grass and purple coneflower. She’s remembering back to when she was ten, and Alex was twelve, to the day they chased each other through Mr. Dupree’s backyard, picking violets for their curly hair. And she can smell the vegetable gardens, the magnolia trees, can feel the warmth of that day over her skin. She remembers how the old man burst out of his back door, cussing and turning red. And she remembers her and Alex hiding behind a row of lilac bushes, giggling into their tiny hands. Later they had skipped through a meadow—this meadow—and lay in the grass after kicking dandelions.
Something snakes through the grass and takes Emily’s hand. The touch is familiar; it’s Alex.
“Alex, look!” says Emily to her sister, now ten years old and pointing to a yellow butterfly. It glides down and lands on the strap of Alex’s dress, the same dress she wore all those years ago.
Emily turns on her side to greet her sister; but there is no face there, only a flickering broadcast of Alex’s countenance at different ages.
“A-Alex?”
The faces stop flickering and Alex is twelve years old. Emily smiles to see the young version of her older sister. “Wasn’t today fun?” she says to Alex, her voice that of a little girl. She can taste lemonade on her teeth.
“The best,” agrees Alex.
Emily twirls her hair. “We should stay here forever. Never, ever leave!”
A luminous white light appears a few feet away. Alex morphs to her current age of twenty. “Em,” she whispers solemnly.
“What?”
A gust of wind blows the butterfly off Alex’s dress.
“The tornado.”
Emily lets go of Alex’s hand and sits up, the youthful glow fading from her eyes. She becomes eighteen again. “It . . . it got us, didn’t it.” The white light holds her attention.
Alex hears something off in the distance and gets to her knees. “I think it’s happening right now.”
“But . . . but what about mom and dad? What about . . . college? Our boyfriends? What about our lives? We can’t die, not now!”
“If that’s what this is,” says Alex, “then I don’t think we have much of a choice.” She offers her hand. “C’mon Em, maybe it’s not what it seems. Let’s go find out.” Emily recoils from Alex like a frightened animal. “No!”
Three figures now stand inside the light, one a small boy. Alex smiles, almost trancelike. She points to the boy. “Em, look! Look who’s here!”
Emily stares for a moment, then shakes her head defiantly. “No, I don’t care Alex. I’m not ready!”
The wind suddenly picks up and the larks go silent. The white light begins to shimmer.
“Let’s just stay a little longer,” says Emily, ignoring the light. “Please.”
Alex jumps to her feet and wipes the grass off her jeans. A storm appears in the west, its unbroken shadow flooding the meadow. Alex grows stern. “Em, I know this is like, your favorite place in the whole world—it’s mine too—but, but it isn’t real.” She pauses, gives her sister a hard look as if taking on the role of their mother. “Emily, I think this is a transitional space, you know?” She looks back at the light. “And I feel like we’re supposed to go with them. I really do. C’mon Em, it’ll be okay.”
Emily drops her head and clutches at the grass with both hands, shoulders heaving as she begins to sob. Overhead, the sky turns sickly yellow, storm and shadow looming closer by the moment. When thunder rumbles nearby, the vision of a tornado blasts through Emily’s mind. She shudders violently.
“Em, time’s up!” yells Alex, now standing inside the fading light. The human shapes gather about her and start whispering. “Please, Emily. They say you need to come with us or you’ll be stranded here!”
Emily jumps up. “No! I’m not ready!” she yells, running off in the opposite direction. Just then, a growing tornado rises up and takes chase, launching a tentacle of dusty air at the girl’s feet. She is dragged, kicking and screaming, toward the angry funnel. In one fell swoop it whips down like a snake and sucks the screaming girl in.
* * *
A summer day. Larks sing from fence posts. A white orb zips across a meadow of green grass and purple coneflower. The air is fragrant, the sky bright blue. A man at the edge flicks away his cigarette and climbs into a bulldozer.
Alex, Emily’s older sister, peers out the back window. The sky is sickly yellow but for a black tornado beneath a mass of rainclouds. Faint beneath the storm’s din, a monotone siren blares from some nearby town and echoes across the cornfields.
“Keep driving!” yells Alex. “We’ll outrun it!”
Emily points. “Look!”
Dozens of cars sit abandoned along the shoulders on both sides of the highway, doors open, adults and children running through the rain and throwing themselves into ditches.
“Should we stop and follow those people? We’re going to get blown off the road!”
“No! Try to reach the next overpass! We’ll be safer if we get beneath an overpass. Seriously, I’ve heard of people doing that.”
“Okay!” Emily steps on the gas, eyes locked on the rain-swept highway, her Prius jumping to sixty-five, then seventy miles an hour.
The funnel roars behind them with increasing speed. Trees are yanked out like loose teeth and sucked into its rotation. It advances along the highway, flinging people from the ditches. Others are inhaled directly into the tornado’s belly.
“Hurry! It’s getting close!”
Emily swerves to avoid a billboard that tears across the highway in front of them, its advertisement upside down.
“Seriously Em! Gun it!”
“I know! I know! Look, there’s an overpass up ahead!” She weaves around an abandoned car, trying to keep from sliding off the road. An out-of-control flock of birds comes within inches of the windshield. Wind and debris assault the car.
Alex puts a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Em, listen to me. As soon as we reach the overpass, jump out of the car and follow me up the slope. We need to get way up underneath of it, okay?”
Emily stares straight ahead. “Got it.”
A few seconds later she hits the breaks and they skid to the shoulder. Seatbelts fly; coats are snatched from the backseat. After sprinting up the concrete slope the sisters huddle beneath the overpass. The wind pounds against their bodies and whips up their hair.
“Oh my god, Alex,” Emily cries. “We’re going to die! We’re never going to see mom and dad again!”
Alex pulls Emily tight alongside her body. “We are not going to die, Em. Okay? Do you hear me?”
Just then a sharp object plows into Emily’s shoulder, tearing apart her coat. She shrieks in pain, and Alex jumps on top of her. Overhead the concrete rumbles and cracks apart. Neither hears themselves scream as the tornado hits the overpass.
* * *
A summer day. Larks sing from fence posts. Emily is now lying in a meadow of green grass and purple coneflower. She’s remembering back to when she was ten, and Alex was twelve, to the day they chased each other through Mr. Dupree’s backyard, picking violets for their curly hair. And she can smell the vegetable gardens, the magnolia trees, can feel the warmth of that day over her skin. She remembers how the old man burst out of his back door, cussing and turning red. And she remembers her and Alex hiding behind a row of lilac bushes, giggling into their tiny hands. Later they had skipped through a meadow—this meadow—and lay in the grass after kicking dandelions.
Something snakes through the grass and takes Emily’s hand. The touch is familiar; it’s Alex.
“Alex, look!” says Emily to her sister, now ten years old and pointing to a yellow butterfly. It glides down and lands on the strap of Alex’s dress, the same dress she wore all those years ago.
Emily turns on her side to greet her sister; but there is no face there, only a flickering broadcast of Alex’s countenance at different ages.
“A-Alex?”
The faces stop flickering and Alex is twelve years old. Emily smiles to see the young version of her older sister. “Wasn’t today fun?” she says to Alex, her voice that of a little girl. She can taste lemonade on her teeth.
“The best,” agrees Alex.
Emily twirls her hair. “We should stay here forever. Never, ever leave!”
A luminous white light appears a few feet away. Alex morphs to her current age of twenty. “Em,” she whispers solemnly.
“What?”
A gust of wind blows the butterfly off Alex’s dress.
“The tornado.”
Emily lets go of Alex’s hand and sits up, the youthful glow fading from her eyes. She becomes eighteen again. “It . . . it got us, didn’t it.” The white light holds her attention.
Alex hears something off in the distance and gets to her knees. “I think it’s happening right now.”
“But . . . but what about mom and dad? What about . . . college? Our boyfriends? What about our lives? We can’t die, not now!”
“If that’s what this is,” says Alex, “then I don’t think we have much of a choice.” She offers her hand. “C’mon Em, maybe it’s not what it seems. Let’s go find out.” Emily recoils from Alex like a frightened animal. “No!”
Three figures now stand inside the light, one a small boy. Alex smiles, almost trancelike. She points to the boy. “Em, look! Look who’s here!”
Emily stares for a moment, then shakes her head defiantly. “No, I don’t care Alex. I’m not ready!”
The wind suddenly picks up and the larks go silent. The white light begins to shimmer.
“Let’s just stay a little longer,” says Emily, ignoring the light. “Please.”
Alex jumps to her feet and wipes the grass off her jeans. A storm appears in the west, its unbroken shadow flooding the meadow. Alex grows stern. “Em, I know this is like, your favorite place in the whole world—it’s mine too—but, but it isn’t real.” She pauses, gives her sister a hard look as if taking on the role of their mother. “Emily, I think this is a transitional space, you know?” She looks back at the light. “And I feel like we’re supposed to go with them. I really do. C’mon Em, it’ll be okay.”
Emily drops her head and clutches at the grass with both hands, shoulders heaving as she begins to sob. Overhead, the sky turns sickly yellow, storm and shadow looming closer by the moment. When thunder rumbles nearby, the vision of a tornado blasts through Emily’s mind. She shudders violently.
“Em, time’s up!” yells Alex, now standing inside the fading light. The human shapes gather about her and start whispering. “Please, Emily. They say you need to come with us or you’ll be stranded here!”
Emily jumps up. “No! I’m not ready!” she yells, running off in the opposite direction. Just then, a growing tornado rises up and takes chase, launching a tentacle of dusty air at the girl’s feet. She is dragged, kicking and screaming, toward the angry funnel. In one fell swoop it whips down like a snake and sucks the screaming girl in.
* * *
A summer day. Larks sing from fence posts. A white orb zips across a meadow of green grass and purple coneflower. The air is fragrant, the sky bright blue. A man at the edge flicks away his cigarette and climbs into a bulldozer.
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