The Man

Short Story.

The Man
By: Sophia Doss
6/8/2018

One day I was in the fields. You know those old country fields. I had my blanket and wicker basket full of food while I lay back on my quilted blanket and count the clouds. I lay there enjoying the solitude and beauty of the summer day when I notice something quite odd.
A man in a sheer white shirt, quite handsome is in the distance. He's staring at me.
I can't take my eyes off of him. I don't know should I be alarmed or flattered.
He's expression was that of someone who is tired and walked a kind distance but he had no sweat and his clothes was clean. He wasn't breathing heavy at all.
I shielded my eyes from the sun to get a better look at him.
He doesn't take his eyes of me.
Then it hits me. He's not looking at me. He's looking behind me.
So I turn my head to see who or what he was looking at.
Nothing but grass and trees.
I turn back around...and...he's gone.
I look everywhere possible he could have walked that fast because I only turned my head for a second.
The feeling left me eerie and so I packed my food and blanket and left that spot to walk back home.
Who was that man and who was he staring at so intently; or should I say what he was staring at so intently.