- I’ve had the same dream for as long as I can remember. It started when I was little; I’d see a track leading to an old shack bathed in yellow light. It looked empty, deserted, the door standing half torn from its hinges. All around was a vast field of corn. Not the clean summer corn, but mouldy, blighted corn stalks untended and uncared for. I remember feeling pain and hurt and grief and anger and agony and….
One of my better stories, methinks 