The Wheat Field

The Wheat Field

The ground was cold, wet and mucky. She felt grainy' dirt on her wet pruned hands. The rain fell hard on her pale skin and stuck there like glue. Her feet sunk into the ground, her shoes filling with mud.
The sound of screaming wind rushed through her eardrums. Tree branches snapping and quaking in the distance made her remember she was not alone. The rain smacked the ground like thunder and splashed on her skin with motive.
She licked her lips to taste small earthy grains. The water was metallic and unwelcome, as the heavy rain dripped down her face to her shivering mouth. The wind carried sharpness that made her felt like she was swallowing knives.
The air smelt like rain on cement; like rain on a freshly mowed lawn. The scent of lavender lingered on her drenched brown hair. Honey, she smelt honey. Perhaps coming from flowers not too far away?
Dark grey clouds covered the sky and shaded the air with a sombre hue. The trees in the distance whooshed and smacked the air around them. Rain dropped heavy on the ground, forcing it to splash back up to the sky. The long field of grass looked like it was dancing with the wind. Belle stopped. She stood still whilst her long hair and cotton dress flew in every which direction, and her soft innocent face now anguished and confused.

She heard the thudding of footsteps behind her. Belle runs through the wheat field, her breath wheezing sharp short breaths.
“Mum...!” she screamed, “Mummy help...!”
Belle ran. A faceless tall man not far behind her, soon caught up and threw her to the ground with force.
Time stopped, birds became silent, the storm calmed. All to be heard was the end.