The wind whistles and howles, in the not so far distance fields of wheat stand sway and dance in the wind. I begin to walk- almost automatically for my feet carry me forwards, and farther, and into the field. What am I doing here? I’m alone, Mother has left me and so has the world, at least it seems like it.

 I venture farther and farther out, until something brushes past my bare ankle.  I glance down thinking-hoping it’s an animal, or an insect, maybe a sign to show that I am not alone here, but I stand corrected, it’s only some fallen leaves . Looking back at the way I think I must have come from, I find that I am surrounded by thousands of four feet tall wheat plants, which measure to about my shoulders. It seems ridiculous to have just realized that, but maybe if I stay here, right in place someone will spot me, and bring me home. After all, mother has always told me to stay in place when lost- that way at some point someone will find me, and I am quite visible being a head amongst a field of wheat. So I stay, and wait, as time passes I can’t help but notice that the sun does not change, and neither does the weather. So I venture on, I have all the time in the world, and I will not rest until I go back. So why must it matter if I go farther into these unknown, seemingly deep woods. I will find my way, after all ‘curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back’ and I will end up satisfied. At least I  hope I will. So I step into the dark, I will find mother no matter what it takes. 

The ground is like a canvas, it’s covered with everything from comical red and white mushrooms to a pine cone blanketed with ivy colored moss and a slug the size of my fingernail. A shower of leaves, ranging from crimson to tangerine to daffodil rain down from the seemingly perfect sky, and I catch a tan oak leaf and cup it in my hands. From closer examination I can see that there are scatterings of small almost microscopic perfect circles all around it. Before I can stop myself my fingers recoil and I am left with nothing but fragments. The leaf falls to the ground in pieces,  I can even imagine it: hanging lonesome and in sorrow, for all your friends are gone and have fallen- they have left without you. Or did you choose to stay by yourself, it doesn’t matter anymore because you are alone and left to fend for yourself. You stay all throughout October, hanging on even in the harshest winds and others fall, or when rain pours down so hard that you can’t hear anything except for your heart beating. As it feels like a thousand punches are being thrown at you- and only you, caterpillars and beetles stop by and carve out bits of your soul. They take that with them. Then you fall. 

 It’s really terrible when you think about it. I reach down to pick up the scattered remnants of the leaf attempting to restore its beauty-

 “Hello, I have come to retrieve you” the tone is deeming and almost ethereal. I whip around and find myself face to face, well it is more like face to stomach- for I am still bent over. I adjust myself and now I find myself face to neck with a very tall woman, her green tie flaps in the wind. And she herself seems so out of place, and like her voice-very foreign. She grabs both my hands and suddenly I am in an  office. There is now a new woman, she glances at me and says,

“Hello,”

“Hello” I respond, 

“It took us a good while to find you but now you must be settled here for a good while” she creaks. She is much shorter than me and her ivory hair is cut to a modern bob. A wave of nostalgia washes over me- and all of sudden I realize how similar this woman is to my grandmother. 

“I would like to go home now,” I tell her politely, hoping she will understand. “Oh dear,” she pauses for a moment, 

“I’m afraid that is not quite possible right now,” she states. Before I know it the old lady is gone and the tall one is back.

“Amanda, you must now make the choice to leave earth forever or to stay here and venture to a new afterlife” she states. I- what? What is happening to me? 

“I need to get home” I tell her,

“Well you need to use the full 20 minutes, so confirm with me when your time’s up” she states, then turns her back to me and takes out a tablet.  With nothing to do I move to the closest chair, a dark oak one and sit down placing my feet so they lay flat on the ground. I glance down into my lap where my hands lay, clasped. The leaf is still there, its shattered body is completely broken and the only thing intact is it’s spine! I place it in my lap and begin to trace the desk in front of me. The dark oak wood is chipped and scratched on the rim of the desk- I would assume from those who were here before me. It’s beautifully stained, not painted in any way- the grain is nice, and it varies in size throughout the length of the desk. I trace my finger along the ridge.             “Have you decided yet?” she asks.  I had almost forgotten about the woman on the opposite side of the desk. She seemed to be slightly younger than 30, with long champagne blonde waves cascading over her shoulders. She wore a black suit and an emerald green tie which matched the shade of her eyes.

 “Hello? Are you listening?” she queries, I roll my eyes, I have told before and I won’t say it again, 

“Almost, I just want to make sure” I respond quickly, before she can interrupt me, 

“Okay, just know that you only have about 10 minutes left.”

“I know,” I say, while picking at the wood, 

“Where did this desk come from, if you don’t mind me asking,” I ask, glancing up at her. I would assume she wouldn’t mind answering, after all it is her desk. But Mother has always told me I should always add that on to a sentence, especially if it is personal- but this question isn’t personal. Mother told me a lot of things, I do miss her dearly. I want to go back, I want to go back, I whisper softly, everything will be normal if you go back.

“No it won’t” the lady responds,

“I’m sorry?”

“It won’t be normal if you go back,” 

“But, I’ll be at home with mother, I’ll see my friends and all will be well,” I protest, almost convincing myself rather than this strange lady who thinks she knows everything- she didn’t even answer my question. But if nothing is normal when I go back will it be worth it? Will mother think of me the same way? And will I still visit grandmother every Sunday after she goes to church? Will I be the same? I become lost in myself as I attempt to solve this mystery which will completely conclude my life if I choose to do so.

“1 more minute,” she announces really much louder than necessary, but my mind is racing so does it really matter? It feels like everything is moving at a mile a second, the room is coming to a blur and I try to focus on just one thing. The bookshelf- it’s filled completely with god knows how many books, but if I were to take an estimate I would assume there’s about 200 books, leaving no gaps nor space for bookshelf dividers. There in the top left corner of the peeling and chipped, at a slant bookshelf stands a maroon book about 1 ½ inches thick, the color faded in many places along the spine. Labeled in big blocky letters says “Plato '' and next to it on the worn spine in gold lettering is “The Myth of Er”. It’s difficult to make out, but only because of the fading at the joints of the spine, and the gold lettering is washed out, but you can tell that the book was once favored, and still is. But I can’t focus on that for my life, it is dependent on this choice. I know the obvious decision is to go back- mother will always love me no matter what happens, but can this change everything? Mother said she’ll always love me but what if I don’t love her? I want to move on, I need to move on, I can’t go back no matter what has changed because not only will they be different but I will be different.

“I- I think I’m ready,” I say tentatively, adjusting myself to turn to the woman who is now on my left side. 

“Wonderful, now take my hands” she tells me, staring past my eyes, it seems as if she’s staring at my soul, how very. I place my hands around the oak arms of this chair, and stand up. My feet make their way over to the woman, across the worn hardwood floors. I stand parallel to her emerald stiletto heels, I glance up. Her hands extended towards mine, waiting. 

I reach towards her, and my lips curl upwards forming a smile, hers curl too- for we need not to say anything, she knows my decision. I feel a whoosh and I am there. A white room- no, not room, abyss.

“Goodbye,” the woman calls out, and she is gone. I reach into my pocket and take out all remnants of that leaf, the one that has journeyed with me and is so sacred. It falls into the abyss below me, and my hand reaches out, grasping for the last piece of everything, but I have let go. And now I am completely and utterly alone. But I need not to go anywhere, the light will take me.