Terra Potesta

This story is now copyrighted (c) 2011. Purchase Campfire Stories (part of the Emerging Light Series) via Amazon.com.

 

It was a typical sunny Saturday, ripe with the smell of fresh cut grass and ozone…until it wasn’t.

Everything happens at once and suddenly my brother Greg and I find ourselves walking down a dusty street in a town reminiscent of Stephen King’s Desperation, Nevada. The sign reads “Terra Potesta: 195.”

We look around, not seeing anyone, wondering aloud where those 195 were hiding. We continue kicking dust through the street, eyes wide in uncertain expectation. Turning a corner, we stop to stare at the bleak landscape. There are people milling through the filth. We approach a group of tired, emotionless habitants but are promptly ignored as if invisible. We want nothing more than to get home.

 My brother and I walk into a hushed, dismal looking diner and right away are sorry that we did. The waitress treats us like lepers as we sit at the counter and attempt to get a soda and ask for some information. Everyone in the diner is staring through us, none of them making a sound. An eerie calm hangs over the place.

            A boy walks past us. The waitress addresses him as “B.” He turns toward us while she goes back to get his drink. He says, “If you’re ever in town again look me up.”

We stare at him, not understanding. We had just gotten here. And how would we look him up? We knew him only by his nickname. By his initial.

He got his drink and backed away, keeping his vacant eyes on us. I turned to watch him slip into a booth with a scantily-clad girl who was much more attractive than he was.

            The waitress listens as we tell her we didn’t know how we got to the town in the first place and just wanted to get home. She motions with her head and we follow her behind the counter and through a long hallway. On the way, we pass lots of open doors. I glance into each one, confused. There are people lying on dirty cots in the dark, some sitting upright in uncomfortable-looking chairs, some running around like madmen, beating their heads against the walls. I ask “What is this place?” and am not given an answer.

We follow the waitress’s drab, dirty apron as it swings past the open doors, leading the way to a larger area at the end of the hall. It looks like a waiting room.

            We sit in silence as a few old men pass by. They look miserable. One stops and introduces himself as “P.” He holds out his soda and a clutched fist. Something is in his hand. I shake my head, not sure what he’s offering me. He shrugs, pops a bright blue and white pill into his mouth, and swallows. He nods and stalks off toward one of the rooms. The other man walks away, clutching something of his own.

“P” suddenly reappears around the corner and mumbles through thick yellow teeth, “If you’re ever in town again, look me up, alright?” He retreats again. I throw my hands up in exasperation. A moment later, I jump to my feet and walk back down the hallway, my brother following me. I look in every room as I hurry by. The boy that we had met before, “B,” is in one of the brightly lit rooms with a different girl. They are making out and getting sort of animalistic. I stop to consider this. What had just happened? What about the other girl he’d been with? And of course: What sort of place WAS this?

I follow P all the way to the parking lot. He is standing out by a red convertible with an older white-haired lady and a very tall black lady in African dress. I call out to P, “What’s going on? What is this??” The group turns toward my brother and I and narrows their collective eyes. They don’t answer.  I’m upset now. “How could I look you up? I can’t just look for “P.” I don’t even know your name. I don’t even know where I AM!” They narrow their eyes again.

I charge at them. I can’t take it anymore. No one in this whole damn town shows any sort of emotion at all. The African lady stops me with a strong hand. She smiles and sticks out her tongue. I see another one of those blue and white pills. It is perfectly round and large. She hands me a soda and another one of the pills. I shake my head. “What is it?”

She smiles. “You take,” she says, nodding to me. I begin to protest. She smiles and nods again. She produces a handful of pills and offers them to me.  “What is it?” I ask more forcefully.

“Earth.” She replies matter-of-factly.

She begins to drop the pills, all of them, onto my upturned face. She bathes my head with the soda. I attempt to protest inaudibly.

One of the smooth round pills finds its way into my mouth. I can’t help but swallow and, instantly, I see what she means.

Author's Note

This story is the direct transcription of a dream I had 2 nights ago...enjoy.

Reviews

[Lady]

A very creepy yet delightful read.
I am curious to know what the girl saw after taking the pill.

Again I must say that I admire your way of expression. Everything flows very well - there are no awkward moments in your writing.
Your story itself is original and interesting. You could continue on with this if you wish; you've created a unique atmosphere and as the reader I am wanting to know more about it.

Outstanding!

[C-Trainer]

Hey Linz, you definitely need to finish this. There are so many ways you can go, and I want to know what they see after taking the pill!