10 miles from town

20 miles from home

Galatea

Old run down buildings, only the foundation crumbles left to commemorate the history of that time, was our marker to turn home on dirt roads. Thirty miles was a long ways for most kids to travel for school, but there was no traffic. Only corn fields where the farmers were, and only pasture where the cowboys took over.

The days got shorter, and our marker was harder and harder to see.

Deer lingered in the ditches, dusk painted the horizon with a camouflage for all animals.

Mom eventually had to flip on her headlights, the old green Taurus turning up clouds of dirt as we made our way home. Speckles of dust twirled in the light as we moved further and further into the corn fields.

Eight lights zoomed downward, facing us, and hovering.

The engine of the car hummed, softer, slower…

I noticed mom had brought the car to a crawl.

Neither of us looked at each other.

The lights had hypnotized us with fear and curiosity.

“Take a picture, hurry.” She commanded.

Still entranced, I reached down for the hot pink razer flip phone.

And as soon as it flipped it open.

The lights were gone.

Did they turn off? Did whatever it was fly away?

No.

More like sucked into another dimension.