CC's Farm

It was late one night when Chris awoke from a dream that stuck with him. In his dream a voice called out to him from the mountain, but every time he tried to approach it he woke up gasping for air.

“Chris you’re sweating.” His wife said, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead.

“I had this dream.” He began to say.

“Now don’t you go on about that mountain again.” His wife said angrily. “You know full well there’s nothing but danger in those hills.”

He knew better than to drag the topic out, but there was something about the dream that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “That voice.” He thought aloud. “I’ve heard it before.”

“Hush.” His wife laid down and turned away from him. “I won’t hear any more mountain talk.”

“It was just a dream.” Chris reminded himself.

“That’s right. Keep it that way.” She mumbled.

He stared at his wife’s blanketed outline in the dark next to him for a moment then shook his head. “I can’t go back to sleep now.”

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” She mumbled.

He stood up, his feet hitting the cold wooden floorboards and starting a cool pulse in his blood. "Naw, I got it.” He stretched and looked out the window into the night sky.

Maybe his eyes had wondered open while he slept and staring at the mountain had finally driven him mad.

“Would you like anything?” He offered, but his wife had already fallen asleep.

He grabbed a crumpled shirt off the floor and a hoodie he’d hung from the doorknob. He stepped quietly out the front door and stood barefoot on the porch in the unusually bright moonlight. He could think of nothing but the voice from his dream.

Notes