Dumping Fields

I wrote this story a long time ago, but I wanted to share it again. It was based on a noun challenge given to me by some friends in a facebook group. Here is a link to the challenge if you’re interested –> Here

My words were potato, place, girls, planes, and river.


Dumping Fields
by Tiffany Christina Lewis


The vast Idaho potato field, one that often supplied spuds for your favorite chip brand, was still and quiet. Only the sound of a scantly flowing river persisted. The dark had over taken the land and the only light was from the twinkling stars and lights on planes as the last flights of the night soared by.

This was not the type of place you would every imagine seeing battered and bloodied flesh. Not even a slaughtered animal had been found on that land. It was rare to see anything red in the sea of golden, brown and white.

But this day, August 29th, 2014, there was red in the field. There was also bloodied and battered flesh. The pearlesque eyes of a young man looked up to the black sky. A blood vessel broken disturbed the blue of his right eye, a swollen jaw disguised his smile, and a cut across the throat had silenced him for the last time. His body strewn about like a discarded doll, his arms and legs disheveled, his torso and head conforming to the position of the potatoes. His plaid shirt and jeans were still neat but, oddly, his shoes were missing.

As the sun rose over his body, the early bird looked out of her window. She and the other girls in the house were always up with the sun. It was a requirement. From her second story bedroom she could see the mound but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Being the oldest child in the house, she was knowledgeable in the usage of a firearm. She scurried downstairs, ignoring the other girls acquisitions, too preoccupied with thinking, what could be in the field. A dog, a bird, a bum? As she snatched the gun from behind the door, she commanded that they “stay put”. She opened the door and cocked the shotgun.

Walking with the poise of an assassin and the confidence of a runway model, her boots kicked up dust and her blond hair swayed behind her has she quickly approached what she would remember as the most disturbing thing she had ever seen. She shouted, trying to alert whatever it was but it didn’t move. She came closer and as she did she became irate. How could they ignore her calls? They were trespassing on her land. It wasn’t until her vision came to the top of his chest, pushed upwards by a clump of potatoes, and slid over it to his neck that she stopped. She sucked in a breath so deeply that she began to choke on her own saliva and coughed grotesquely. As the other bubbly blondes approached her, they too stopped short. In shock, some stood quietly while another screamed in a pitch that could break glass. The gun wielding young woman quickly turned to them and barked that they return to the house, now.

The girls raced for the safety of their home as their leader made a bee line for the barn where she found the farmer. He was leaning over the tractor which had bucked him off with an abrupt stop in the field just the other day. He was determined to tame the engine of the beast that day and he did not look up as the barn door slammed open.

“Dad! There, there is a body in the field! It’s dead, the neck,” she began to sob as the force of what she had encountered started to weigh her down.

“Calm down, Dixie! What’s going on?” the farmer stood and wiped his hands on a filthy rag. He looked at his daughter with a stone face.

“There is a DEAD BODY in the field!”

The farmer wiped the sweat from his head. “I know that.” He said calmly.

“What?” Dixie’s face showed pure terror.

“I’m the one who put him out there!”

(c) Tiffany Christina Lewis 2014

3 thoughts on “Dumping Fields

  1. Great write Tiff. Extremely well crafted and dark moody imagery that leaves the reader feeling something. Pretty amusing that the dad is the one who left the body but left me much like the rest of the audience wondering “why”?

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