In-Between

They stood on the flat land, looking out into the plains. The long grass looked more like water, or hair from the fluid movements made in unison edged on by the wind. It looked soft. As though one could lay in the field and be adopted by the long strands. They would encompass you, welcome you to their home, wrap their stems around you until there was no more flesh. Then you would become one of them.

“The crash was bad” one of them said.

“How do you know?” said the other.

“Well, we’re here aren’t we?”

Silence.

They watched as the backseat from a 2016 Toyota Corolla fell from the sky. It disappeared into the long grass. The silence of the eerie landscape deepened.

“So this is it then?”

“I suppose so”

He let out a sigh and offered his hand to his friend, “Take care of yourself”

The Sun’s rays intensified and pierced the ground between them. Neither could see the other past the concentrated wall of light. It burned through the ground like a laser, deepening the abyss. 

“I’m going to be honest,” one of them shouted, “I was expecting something a bit more elaborate”

“Goodb-“

The Sun’s rays widened, blinding them both. When they awoke, it was night. A moon-like object covered half the sky. Instead of grass, purple waves splashed on the shore. The pink sand was arranged in swirls.

“You’re a child again!” he shouted, squinting at his friend.

Francis stood at 4’11, a head full of blonde curls, “You’re old!”

Jerome glanced down at his hands and recoiled in disgust at the leathery texture of his palms.

“Do you think there is more?”

Francis did not respond. He was playing in the sand.

“What are you making?”

“A sandcastle”

Jerome noticed that Francis sounded like a child too. His voice was shrill. It cut against the smooth hush of the sea.

His limbs ached from the gravitational pull. As soon as he lay down, the smooth swirls of sand rearranged themselves around his body. From where he lay, he could see Francis singing and building his pink sandcastle. The grains glimmered in the light that came from the object in the sky. Jerome knew it was not the moon.

His skin was losing all elasticity. It was liquid, dripping from his bones. The sand was pulling his flesh away. His skin became transparent as it stretched tightly across his face. Jerome closed his eyes, grimacing at the painful ordeal.

“Francis?”

There was no response.

“Francis?”

Jerome could see through his transparent eyelids. The object in the sky seemed to be getting larger.

“Francis I wanted to say goodb-“

The object in the sky flattened Jerome, but it was so heavy he did not feel a single thing.

Francis had been in the plains for some time now. Jerome had been here again as well, he knew this because his footprints were in the ground. Francis did not know where Jerome was, or how long it had been. He liked it here. The grass was quite soft, and sometimes tickled his childish limbs as he ran past it, dancing with the wind.

He decided to follow Jerome’s footsteps and found that they disappeared at the entrance to the long patch of grass. So Jerome had entered the field. Francis toed the dirt with his foot.

He lifted his head towards the Sun, and stared directly into the burning ball of flames. He had always wanted to do that. The long stems of grass reached out towards Francis, caressing his limbs, calling him in, calling him to come find his friend Jerome.

But Jerome could not be there, it was a trick, Jerome was standing right beside him.

“You look like yourself again” Francis remarked, looking up at him.

“You are still a child” Jerome replied.

“Will you come with me?”

“No. I am supposed to stay here.”

“Why?”

“I was never meant to leave”

“Oh”

“Tell Mary I am sorry”

“Who is Mary?”

“You will remember once you return”

“Did you return?”

“Only for a little bit”

“How?”

Jerome pointed towards the endless patch of grass before them. It was far away again.

Francis did not say anything for some time. The long grass looked more like water, or hair from the fluid movements made in unison edged on by the wind.

“It didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No”

Francis walked towards the grass, leaving Jerome behind him. The flat land stretched between them. Jerome stood tall with his hands behind his back, watching his friend leave. Francis aged with each step he took, and when he was at the entrance to the grass, he turned around, himself again.

“Is this where we say goodb-“

“Do not say that word”

Jerome’s voice was near his ear, even though he was an ant in the distance.

“But you are not coming with me”

“We will meet again”

Francis nodded and ventured into the long patch of grass.

When he awoke, he did not remember anything. The doctor checked his vitals and told him he was a very lucky man.

“Where is Jerome?” Francis replied trying to turn around, swinging his head side to side.

The doctor was quiet for some time.

“Unfortunately, your friend did not survive the car accident”

Francis covered his face with his hand and let out a cry of anguish.

"I'm sorry"

"When did he pass away?"

"Two months ago"

"What?"

"You were in a coma for some time. We weren't sure you were going to make it"

“Does Mary know?”

“Yes”

"How is she taking it?"

"Quite poorly"

Francis felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Somehow he felt this was all his fault. How had the accident even happened? He couldn't remember. Was there anyone else with them in the car? These questions all seemed rather trivial now.

For some reason all he could smell was freshly cut grass. The scent filled the room as the maintenance team worked on the front lawn of the hospital. The whirl of the lawnmower thundered in the room. The doctor got up and closed the window.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye” Francis said quietly.

“We almost never do” the doctor replied.