The Field [Horror/Thriller]

I felt like writing, so... Here's part one. This was inspired by a horrible nightmare I had where i was in Brian's shoes. I didn't like it one bit, and was glad to be awake when I saw my bedroom again. So, join me as i write about it. A story of isolation, danger, and other stuff I'd rather you found out yourself by reading, rather than me telling you. This ain't no blurb, bub.
Have fun.

Part 1:


Brian Westham.
What could you say about him? Your average Joe, a schmuck who drifted slowly through the sewers of life. At least, that's how he saw it. He was content enough with his life. He had a job working at a small cafe taking orders and abuse from the local idiots. Which was all too good for him, as his home (Which was a rented hotel room, he worked a pretty good deal with the manager) wasn't too far away. Fifteen minute walk -- tops.

Brian was a man who needed variety, and a decent meal. People often said to him 'If you were any thinner you wouldn't exist' followed often by a strange sort of 'please go away' look. People must have thought him some sort of coke head. But variety and motivation was what he needed. That's what he told the doctor who supplied him with a healthy dose of solidified happiness in a small, yellow cylinder. Two times a week. Thrice monthly then it's check up with Dr. Death.
Variety and motivation was something he was about to receive. A kind of primal motivation most never experience. Nor ever need. But Brian westham, room 233, Waiter at Dollies, would need it. Oh, he would need it more than ever.

Brian woke up. His face was hot, and sticky. Laced with a thin sheet of sweat. The sun was beaming down on him from above like a table lamp being pushed too close to his face. The wind blew and he felt a strange sensation. His bed felt like grass. The air was cool, which it never was, no sir. Not in 223. Brian shot up, half expecting to be dead already and in some sort of boring limbo.
Around him he saw a field, lush -- Idyllic an art critic might say -- Field that seemed to stretch for eternity and further a few more miles after that. He was still wearing his clothes that he had on prior to sleep in his bed in the humid 223. Socks, red boxer shorts and a white tank top. If he was fat and had Grey stubble to accompany a mid-morning beer he would be a walking cliche.
"Hello!?" he shouted out to the horizon, he even heard a slight echo like the trees he could see just poking up from over that hill were shouting it back. "Is anybody there?! HELLO!!!!!" he continued to shout. If he had drunkenly stumbled into some farmers field this would not look good. But he hadn't been drinking last night. No, never drink with the happy pills. Never. You never wanna wind up like that. Alone in humid, dirty 223 with only the manager demanding his rent to find you comatose in a puddle of your own vomit. You never wanna wind up like that.

Brian was moving turning 360 on the spot searching, scanning, for a house or a car, or even a goddamn cow! Any signs of life at all would do him just fine, yes sir, at least he would then have something to talk to other than himself. And he knew best of all that Brian Westham, room 223, waiter at Dollie's, was not the best conversationalist.
"Okay, you got me! where's the cameras? Where's the sound man? Come on, jokes over, you got me. Ha-ha look at Brian, absolutely mind-bustingly terrified. Jokes over!!!!!" He was shouting again, as hard as his lungs would allow, as loud as his vocal chords could handle. No response. Just the faintest echo of the trees shouting back his own words to mock him in his very own voice.
"Damnit, Brian... You're losin' in. First chance I get Dr. Death is gonna hear about this. Okay, maybe I shouldn't tell him. Might make me look a little crazy." He spoke reassuringly to himself, even moving his hands as he spoke as if trying to calm down another invisible Brian that was standing in front of him. "I'm talking to my self about not looking crazy. Well, that's just great. I've gone crazy. I mean -- HELLOOOOOO!!!!" he blared out again. Nothing. So he began to walk.
He walked, and walked. And the landscape didn't seem to change one bit. The trees that just poked over that hill in the distance that mocked him in his own voice whenever he shouted didn't even seem to be moving closer. But he knew he was moving forward, that much he knew. Even if he was going crazy, He at least knew he was in control of his body.

Part 2:

From Brian's view point the sun was no closer to moving than he was to getting home. He had been walking for what seemed like an hour or one hundred for all he cared and yet it felt like he made no progress. Everywhere looked the same. The only thing that assured him he was moving was the mocking tree was now in full view, a large tree at that. Plenty of shade underneath where some thinking can be done.

He picked up his pace and eventually made it to the tree. The shade underneath it's many branches covered with little green leaves didn't feel any cooler than it did in the direct sunlight. Upon looking ahead he could see that this hill, just behind which the tree sat, was hiding a forest which looked like it was going to stretch on past the horizon. Further and further onto forever.
"what the hell am I going to do?" Brian said, he didn't care for keeping his thoughts in his head now. There was no one around to hear his words anyway. He turned and faced the direction he had came in and saw nothing but the knee-high grass that he had previously woken up in.
For a reason unknown to Brian he kept looking out there, as if his eyes were looking for something in specific. But still, there was nothing there, and Brian doubted anything would be there for a while. He would be long gone by the time a couple or a small family decide this field a nice place to have a picnic or what ever else they decide to do to fritter away their afternoons in the unbearable summer's day. At least those people would know where they were. All Brian knew was this tree. All he knew was the field -- at least that's what he thought -- He saw something. A black spot. One that wasn't there before, one you wouldn't notice if you hadn't been looking with an intent of finding anything that didn't belong in the field. The spot didn't move. Maybe Brian was going insane. Hallucinations? in this heat? surely not, no sir, that was there for real. He saw something raise a little, just in front of the spot.
"Hello?!" he shouted as loud as he could, hoping the spot was a person who had been asleep or sunbathing and just hadn't heard Brian. But it definitely moved. It must see him. It must. There was a loud bang, loud from even this distance. A puff of smoke rose from the spot, and just as quickly as the bang came a large chunk of the bark from the mocking tree exploded outwards into tiny fragments.
"holy... Oh god I'm being shot at!" Brian said to himself before turning and running as fast as his legs would carry him towards the forest, the forest that stretched onto forever and eternity.

Trees were almost blurs at the corners of his eyes as he ran, and ran. His breath felt like fire in his lungs, his heart pumping battery acid into his muscles, the adrenaline running thin. But he couldn't stop -- not now -- not when he was shot at. He was dodging trees and almost hit each one, a hit that would get him killed if that gunman was chasing him. A hit that would knock him down long enough to be a sitting duck, well Brian wasn't going to let that happen. No sir, no sir-ee, not Brian, room 223, Waiter at-----
Something hit his foot, he tripped and hit the dirt hard. For a second he was confused, and winded. He couldn't breathe for a few seconds that seemed to last hours. He turned to see what had tripped him.
"Oh Jesus... Oh god... No, no, no.." Brian said as burning tears strolled down his cheeks, his eyes hurt just to squeeze the wet pearls out.
On the dirt ground littered with leaves and a few acorns, sticks and dirt was a bear trap. A bear trap that had already been armed and now it was clasped shut. In it's rusty brown teeth it held a bloody stump, a foot. A foot covered in dirt and black, dry blood. Brian swung his feet into his view just to make sure it wasn't his own damn foot that was lost. Luckily it wasn't his. Both of his were still intact. Brian's heart was pounding like an angry bull, it was shouting 'GET THE HELL OF YOUR FEET AND RUN WHILE YOU STILL GOT 'EM!!!' but Brian's body, Brian's legs would not listen. He lay, strewn out, paralyzed by fear. But soon, like an electrical current was forcibly shot into his ass he jumped up and began running again. Continuously saying to himself, a whisper with what little air he could spare "Not me... No... Not me, no sir-ee.. Please, not me."

Part 3:

Brian had been running non-stop for what could have been a lifetime. The gunman seemed to have given up on following him and Brian was sure he had time to stop and rest.
He sat against a tree and closed his eyes as he focused on his breathing. His heart was pounding and felt like it would explode at any moment, his legs felt like they were about to fall to peices and his head was killing him. Brian sat and wondered what the hell had happened, how he could have gotten here, and why that person had tried to kill him. Clearly Brian wasn't the first to find himself in this place, the bear trap was enough proof of that. He was near falling asleep, he could feel himself slowly drifting. And then he heard it. A woman's voice, possibly a young woman around the age of 20.
"Is anybody there?" She shouted out and Brian immediately shot up and scanned the area with his tired eyes trying to find the source of the sound, the lost woman. And then she saw Brian. He just managed to see her through the trees crying and running towards him muttering something that she clearly had no energy to say aloud. She tripped and landed at Brian's feet and of course he helped her up.
The woman, or rather the girl, he had to be around twenty years old if not a lot younger. Her face was covered in dirt as was the rest of her. Like Brian who stood in his red boxers, socks and tank top, she too was wearing only a tank top and some long shorts.
"H-help me, please, I don't know where I am.." She said as he began to cry again,
"I'm sorry but... I don't know where I am either... I just sorta woke up here and.. well.. That's all I know..." Brian replied, as crazy as it sounded, at least he was being honest.
"Me too. I woke up in this forest and then this guy tried to shoot me and I-i found a body..."
"A body? Hell, I only found a foot..." Brian said trying to make her more relaxed even though this was no time to be a smart ass as he usually was.
"It must have belonged to the guy's body I found, he was missing a foot. Probably died from blood loss." She nodded as she spoke as if assuring herself that was the cause of death for the man she had found.
"How can you tell?" Brian was trying not to sound like he was prying, but he was.
"I'm a med student, Wait - who are you?"
"Brian. Brian Westham, I'm a waiter." He put his hand out and she shook it, though her hand was trembling and shaking almost as much when she took her hand back "and yours?"
"Brooke...Everyone calls me Blondie though." She said with a slight smile as she brushed back her blonde hair and clumps of dirt fell out of it.
"Okay, Brooke... We're gonna get the hell outta here. And then we're gonna call the cops and get who ever did this to us. What way did you come from?"
Brooke pointed her shaking hand directly behind her through the thick of the trees, exactly the way Brian had saw her come, "There was a house. A small one, like a... A cottage, but that's where the man came from. The one who tried to shoot me. I'm lucky he missed really, Another inch or a stronger wind and I woulda been a goner."
"Weird... The guy that tried to shoot me missed as well. Hit a tree next to me." Brian said as shook his head a little and tried to contemplate the situation, "Okay... Come on.." He added as he began walking in the direction he previously had but keeping an eye on Brooke, she seemed prone to falling over.

They had walked for about ten minutes when they eventually had gotten out of the forest. Over in the distance the forest seemed to continue, for now they were standing on short grass and before them was a dirt road. Brian followed the road with his eyes and saw it turn just behind the trees on his left so he walked forward and slowly he began to see a house, a cottage, just like Brooke had described. The dirt road probably lead up there and Brian was damn sure that's not the way to go. He looked the opposite way and saw a cattle-grid,
"So they're farmers..."
"huh?" Brooke mumbled as she turned to face Brian,
"Cattle grid over there. Fields, lots of land... A cottage. Come on, it's obvious." He said and then flicked his head back towards the house as a slow, quiet rumbling noise was coming towards them,
"back, quick!" He hissed as he pulled Brooke back behind a tree and watched the dirt road. After a good minute or two of that rumbling noise a tractor went by, quickly followed by an old man on an old looking bicycle.
The old man on the bicycle had a rather large rifle strapped onto his back but then, they were farmers and Brian assumed everyone around here carried something like that to keep trespassers away.
But surely they hadn't thought that he and Brooke were trespassing, not in the p-jays and both of the shooters had taken time to aim and examine their targets before firing and missing. The tractor and the bike had vanished down the dirt road to the right which was separating the forest.

Part Four:


Brian had barely been noticing but the day was fast fading. Already had the sky turned blood red as the sun began to set and wash away the day. He stepped out back onto the dirt road and said to Brooke, "Looks like they've left... I think if we can we should try and get in that house up there. If they have a phone we can call for help."
"no.. No! I can't..I can't" Brooke cried to Brian as she fell weak in her legs, still clutching the bark of the tree.
Brian thought for a moment, the men had passed them as if they hadn't noticed. So they can't be too observant, if anything the woods are the safest bet they had. And then he decided upon it,
"Stay here... If you stay in the trees they probably won't notice you. It's the safest place you can be. They didn't notice you when they went past, and so far they haven't come into the woods. Even when one of them was chasing me."
"Don't leave me..." Brooke whispered,
"Listen, if one of us goes up -- If i go up and don't come back then you'll know it isn't safe. The two farmers headed down that way, I'm guessing you'd have to go that way to get out of this place."
Brooke was quiet for a few moments that were filled with unease and eventually she broke the silence "Okay... I'll wait .. Don't be long."

And with that Brian was off, he began running up the dirt road towards the house. The morale boost of knowing there might be a phone in the little house made him ignore his exhaustion and burning in his legs. He was getting closer, and the skies were growing darker, the houses becoming a dark silhouette.
Eventually he reached it and backed against the wall, next to a window. He slowly peered round and saw the lights were left on, but noone was home. He moved around to the front and checked the door -- Unlocked -- and he walked in.
The house had a rustic feel to it. Old, the floor was all wood. To his left was a staircase that lead upwards into darkness and to his right an open door leading to a living room, the one he had peered into from outside.
Brian wandered slowly into the living room, and saw no phone. All over the walls were the heads of deer and other animals, a wall to make a huntsman proud.
Brian turned and went slowly up the dark steps. Each creaked a little but he hadn't noticed. When he reached the top he faced the darkness and walked forward a little, waiting for his eyes to adjust. And finally they did. He could just make out a door, and so he went through. Brian was met with a very basic bedroom consisting of a sink, a cupboard, and a single bed -- But no phone,
Brian turned and turned left, one final door, there had to be a phone here. Time was running slim and he knew he had to hurry, so he opened the wooden door and saw another bedroom, as basic as the other. Through the dirty window he could see that it was considerably more dark.

bmmp! the sound of a door closing. Brian's heart skipped three beats and he knew he was in trouble. The men had returned. The gunmen were back .He quickly moved into the bedroom, closed the door and checked under the bed. Just enough room. He slid under and tried to quiet his breath which was too loud. His breathing had gotten faster. The sounds of foot steps could be heard, coming closer, and closer up the stairs. The door to the bedroom opened and he saw two mud, covered, green boots. The boots turned and began walking back downstairs again. Brian could have cried he was so glad that he wasn't found, and he nearly was. He waited a good minute or too and heard the men casually talking about something downstairs.
After a while they had gotten quiet, and Brian assumed they had fallen asleep. Without thinking he got out from under the bed. The sky was now a dark navy, and everything else a black shadow.
Brian began slowly walking, hoping his socks would muffle the sound of his footsteps. He turned slowly to the stairs and saw the living room door was closed, an orange light slightly pouring from the bottom. Brian slowly began making his way down, the stairs creaking quietly, almost too quietly too hear.
Brian was halfway down when he heard a cough. A cough that made his heart damn near jump out of his neck. He paused, wide-eyed looking at the orange light from under the door. Silence.Nothing. No movement. So he decided to continue. Slowly, but surely he had made his way down and now faced the front door. He twisted the big brass key that sat in the lock and heard a click. A click ,that in this silence sounded like a loud drum sounding, he hoped they hadn't heard. He slowly opened the door, luckily it was quiet. Cold air rushed onto his sweaty face, and he felt a little relief.
He heard a creaking from behind him and slowly turned his shivering head. He saw that the living room door was open ajar and through the slim opening he could see an eye. An eye watching him. An eye with a stare that froze your heart and sent a shard of ice through your chest. The living room door swung open and the second man was standing there, an angry look on his face. He grabbed Brian and dragged him back, somehow strong enough to hold off the attempts at getting free.
"Lookie what we got 'ere." The one behind Brian said, laughing a little "Take 'im to the kitchen. Don' want mess on me carpet."
The one in front of Brian smiled and grabbed Brian again, pushing him down the hall and face-first into a door. It swung open and he landed on orange tiles. They were as cold as ice. The Kitchen seemed normal enough as Brian was pulled to his feet again, And then he saw it. A leg. A severed leg on the work surface, a crimson and thick puddle benath it.
"You caught us in the middle of preparing dinner..." the man said in a beastly voice with a demon's grin filled with yellow, rotting teeth.


Brooke was waiting, cold, and scared. She heard screaming come from the cottage. A young man's scream, and instantly she knew. She knew Brian was hurt, caught, and in danger. Tears ran down her face as she turned and ran down the dirt road, she had to find help. Had to find someone, anyone, anything that could get her away from here. From the men, from the forest, from the Field.
She had been running for little more than hirty minutes, her feet ached and were probably bleeding from all the rocks she had stood on. Then she saw light. A house, no, not just one. Three, more? A village. A new boost of energy swept over her and she ran to the town as fast as she could.
Brooke finally reached it. She tried banging all the doors, lights were on, noone was home. She ran throughout all the town, searching for a sign of life and there was none. Brooke turned and saw two great, blinding lights before her. A man's voice hissed out from behind,
"This is our town... And now it's yours..."

The End...