The Green Thing

“That shouldn’t be there,” Ben croaked through lips dry and cracked as the mud flats surrounding him. The dawn air was stagnant and carried with it a foul smell that Ben couldn’t place. At times it smelled of rotting flesh, others of truncated soil. Whatever it was, Ben was sick of it more than the neverending dead plains that housed him, and he already hated them more than he’d ever hated anything. The sky was bleak and the disturbed dust flew high, muting the newborn light and giving the rising sun a hazy quality. But amongst the various shades of brown, a blue – no – green thing bounced around before him. He watched it in horrified awe for a few moments before he realized what it was.

The small virent bird fluttered here and there, cooing with concern. Its feathers glittered in the morning sun with the dazzling gleam of freshly polished sapphire and emerald. Looking closer, he saw a ruby belly obscured behind the desert’s brown haze. Its wings were tinged black and its head fuzzy with a small yellow beak. The tail feathers were long, longer than the length of the rest of the body, and a magnificently iridescent green like the train of some king adorned in precious stones. Its voice reverberated around him like a ball bouncing around a room. It beckoned him: Come, hurry up already!

And so Ben followed.

The bird, once it realized the man was trailing it, veered west. The sun was at Ben’s back now and, in the waking sky in front of him, a bright yellow star twinkled a final goodbye. With a yawn it nestled into its cosmic bed and disappeared from sight. It was replaced by a clear pale blue and soon the heat was beating itself upon the back of Ben’s neck. It had only been an hour, maybe two, since Ben had woken shivering with cold but already he missed the ice in his fingers.

Ben had been lost an entire day now. He had set out early in the morning the day before, eager to begin his long-awaited hike. He had dreamed of it for years but could never find the time to make it happen. For better or worse, a recent break up and the loss of a job had cleared his schedule. An unfortunate time, to be sure, but Ben always looked at the bright side of things. He was hurt and frustrated, but nonetheless thrilled to be starting this journey. His phone hadn't had service since his foot hit the mud flats, and his compass broke two miles in, but he thought himself okay. Once he was out in the midst of the withered field, however, his car and the road out of sight, he quickly found himself lacking a sense of direction. To make matters worse, he could never remember in which direction the sun rose and fell, so he was utterly lost.

That was the thing about Ben: he never thought ahead, at least not in any meaningful capacity, and he had a tendency to overestimate his abilities. He had completed plenty of trail hikes in various climes, but never a desert. Still, he was confident that an eight mile hike in the early morning would be easy enough. He had done many hikes much longer than that. He brought a compass (which he had never used) and an extra water bottle and protein bar, but that was the extent of his preparation. He wanted to be left alone to nurse his broken heart and wounded pride so he didn’t tell anyone where he’d run off to.

It was his fault, after all. If he had only listened to his girlfriend to slow down, she might still be around. He was always rushing into things, always taking things for granted. If she had stayed, he wouldn’t have missed that presentation and he’d still have a job. He was usually optimistic, but the horrible week and the miserable sun were taking their toll.

Trapped inside his mind, Ben had essentially wandered into the desert with no plan. He paid no attention to where he walked, confident that the trail (of which he was used to and of which there was none) would keep him on track. He estimated that he had walked at least four miles before he realized he was lost. He threw his bag down in frustration, cracking one of the water bottles. His screams died in a rush of wind and sand as the thirsty earth greedily drank his water. He threw the broken bottle with all his might, but the wind quickly stamped it down into the remnants of the puddle it had created. With a huff he pulled his soaked bag onto his back and continued on. He ate both protein bars by the late afternoon, but he successfully rationed his remaining water throughout the murderously hot day into the freezing night. The cold kept his sleep intermittent and unfulfilling. Eventually, fearing the cold would kill him, he rose and started walking to stave off a slow death.

He drank the last of his water while the bird sang its song.

After a few hours, the bird dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, Ben thought as he ran to it. Birds like that don’t belong out here. When he stood over it, he recoiled in disgust. The bird twitched and shook as if caught in a seizure. Disgust turned to terror as the bird’s head jutted out, its neck growing in sickening bursts. Tail feathers melded together, and grew longer. Wings once outstretched withdrew and with a crackle joined a coiling spine. Feathers ruffled as they moved and grew in size. The thing suddenly froze, feathered scales settling. The bird, now a feathered snake, glowed brilliantly as it tasted the air with its amber tongue and slithered on. Ben followed in morbid curiosity.

By midday, Ben’s body began to fail him. It had been hours since he’d last had water, and the sun had squeezed every last bit of moisture from his body. He stumbled to his hands and knees and the snake stopped and turned towards him. If I can just get to my car, I’ll be okay. The world seemed to shake, and Ben had trouble focusing his eyes and his mind, but he rose to his feet and stumbled on. The snake glanced back often as if to reassure him that they were getting close.

After another mile, Ben fell again. He lay on his belly as his eyes caught the broken plastic bottle now cemented in the earth next to him. He wasn’t even close, he realized. He sighed and closed his eyes. What a fucking idiot. First he lost his girlfriend, then his job, and now his life. It was a rough week. He heard the feathered snake moving towards him and he pulled his head up to look at it.

As it drew closer, the sky began to dim and a dull hum played in his ears. The plumed serpent rose, its body jolting. It grew larger and larger until it covered all the sky. The hum grew louder until it was all he could hear. A yellow light began to flash, ebbing in and out of existence like the tide, and Ben squinted against its glow. His terror grew until it was all he knew, all he could remember. This being, here, now, then, there, all, everything, nothing, death, life, hate, love. The being flashed in and out of existence, the golden light consuming and regurgitating it. He heard hammers slamming nails through wood. He smelled blood, smoke, the sun itself. He felt his skin burn, the gentle breeze against him, the bitter cold. He tasted ash, chocolate. There in the flashes, he could see a man, ethereal, corporeal. His red beard reached his belly, his metallic eyes catching shimmers of light, green here, blue there. He saw the bird flutter, the snake hiss. On a hill, a forest of three, no foliage–no that isn’t right. The image like a photograph tears and falls tattered on the cool gray earth. His terror churned in his stomach and he feared it would split open, spilling himself onto the ground beneath him. He felt weak, and his body fell limply. The light began to fade from his eyes. Man, fowl, serpent, all fell away.

When he awoke, the sun was almost beneath the horizon. Ben pushed himself onto his knees and looked around. He saw the same flat plain to his right stretching out infinitely and he knew his doom was all but certain. Dusk brought with it a calm coolness without the rancid breath of wind. He sighed and turned his head. There, a dozen or so feet away, was his car shining a brilliant shade of green in the dying sunlight. He thought the sun had left him dry, but tears sprung out of his eyes all the same. He crawled towards the car as quickly as he could and pulled himself up into it like a man crazed. On the floor was a jug of water which he grabbed desperately. He spilled it all over himself and his car in his urgency, but he didn’t care. He drank until he thought he’d burst.

He was alive. He made it.

He laid back against the car seat soaking wet and laughing. What a fool he’d been! Coming out here with no plan and a troubled conscience. And yet, that wasn’t the only foolish thing he’d done that week. It wasn’t her fault, he realized. She didn’t make him miss anything. The blame was his alone. He had pushed her away. All things must end, sure, but I am still breathing. He stared up at the sky with a smile plastered to his face.

The man/snake/bird watched as the car eased itself onto the rapidly cooling asphalt and drove away. The hour is late, the green thing thought, and my bed beckons. As suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone.

The sun had set and, near its void, a little yellow planet twinkled brightly.