By Linda Sammaritan
Bright signs decorated with gleeful peaches and grinning ears of corn advertised a local fall festival down the road. Tempting. Justin was more than ready for a break. The constant whoosh of hot air blasting through the car’s open windows for three days made for two cranky children. Cranky father, too.
Micaela would’ve turned this cruddy trip into an adventure. Then again, if she were still alive, he wouldn’t be running away from a town they’d loved and where every street corner held the echo of their footsteps. Memories couldn’t haunt him in Oregon.
He switched off the radio’s tinny reception and turned onto the gravel road where happy apples pointed him in the right direction.
Kezia and Noah jumped out before the engine shuddered to silence.
“Ewww!” his eight-year-old daughter shrieked.
What now? Justin’s worn sneakers crunched on something other than dirt. Metallic blues and greens glinted among the blades of grass.
“Just cicadas. They won’t hurt you.” He reached for Kezia’s hand.
She stood frozen to her spot while Noah, his little naturalist, bent down to examine the creatures. The kid would probably be a scientist someday. Better than an out-of-work preacher.
“Cool!” Noah picked up a gleaming exoskeleton. “They’re beautiful.”
Like mother, like son. Noah saw beauty in a dead bug. Micaela saw it in cancer. As her soul readied for flight, she had tried to comfort them. “There is always beauty, even in this moment.”
Justin disagreed. Beauty inhabited life. It lived in Noah’s enthusiastic observations, in Kezia’s broad smile, just like her mother’s.
Justin led the kids to the folding table with a homemade sign, “Corn Maze $5.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. While the church had been generous—two months’ pay and their blessings—a fifteen-dollar rest stop was kind of steep.
A second sign changed his mind. “Reach the exit for a chance at $100.” Smiley faces inside the two zeroes.
Shouts and laughter from other guests rose from the maze as Justin pulled out his wallet. The teenager manning the table handed him change from a twenty and pointed to the maze entrance. “Good luck.”
Justin’s eyebrows rose. “Is this a tough maze? I’ve done a few in my time.”
The kid laughed. “People have been saying they got their money’s worth.”
Justin’s heart rate thumped up a notch. He had always loved a good challenge.
Upon entry, they were forced to turn right, then offered an immediate choice—left, or straight.
“Which way do you want to go?” he asked the kids. A lone cicada chittered past his ear.
Kezia stared at the ground, still trying to avoid the brittle bodies underfoot.
Noah said, “Let’s go left.”
An older woman appeared from that direction. “Nope, left is a dead end.”
“Straight it is.” Justin headed forward with Kezia hanging onto his belt and Noah running ahead. “Don’t turn a corner without me, buddy.”
The woman hurried toward the exit as several cicadas bumbled around them in flight. Kezia screeched again.
A young couple ran past them in the opposite direction.
Kezia followed their retreat. “They’re running away.” She pulled on Justin’s shirt. “Can we go back? There’s something scary in there.”
“Since when are you scared of corn fields?” He tweaked her nose.
Another family rushed toward the entrance.
Kezia’s voice turned petulant. “I want to go back.”
“I want to keep going,” Noah announced. “And so does Dad. Two against one.”
So, they wandered for another half hour. No exit in sight. Justin couldn’t keep the paths straight in his mind, probably because of the constant drone of the cicadas peppered with Kezia’s complaints. But more than the siren call of money compelled him to press on. After so many defeats in the last year, he needed victory over this maze. Over any small challenge.
Only Noah seemed unbothered by their lack of progress. “Let’s just follow the cicadas.”
The six-year-old took the lead while Kezia settled into disgruntled silence. At every option to turn, Noah counted cicadas. Twenty on the left. Fifty-one on the right. Turn right. Eventually, he gave up counting and followed the most heavily-laden stalk. Numbers past one hundred confused him.
The cicadas’ racket intensified. A dark cloud passed in front of the sun and descended on the maze like a horde of demons.
Kezia dropped to the ground, curled into a fetal position, and screamed into the dirt.
Noah stared at the sky. “Whoa.”
A million cicadas in a deafening buzz swirled around the tops of the corn stalks. Justin pulled Noah down, intending to shield both children with his body.
Noah wiggled free and shouted over the din. “They’re beautiful, Dad. You said they can’t hurt us.”
“There are too many. Get down!” Justin reached for his son, but Noah danced away.
The cloud settled lower on the stalks. Like Micaela would’ve done, Noah spread his arms wide, closed his eyes, and allowed the cacophony of thousands of tiny, armored bodies to brush past him, land on him, lift off from him.
Justin threw himself over Kezia. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Was it minutes? Hours?
“Daddy?” Noah’s voice, clear and strong, sang through the chatter of cicadas.
Justin shifted, and Kezia clung to him, her nose burrowed against his chest.
Noah turned in a slow circle, his face a portrait of delight and wonder. “It looks like heaven.” He casually brushed a few cicadas from his shirt.
Justin gazed at the corn stalks encased in dazzling blues, greens, golds, and coppers. The swarm created a rolling symphony. Crescendos rising to shrill whistles, then fading to hushed susurration. Beauty in the midst of imminent destruction.
“Yes,” Micaela whispered in his heart. “There is beauty. Always.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wow. I really like the fusion of different genres, and wish I could see more.
Thank you, Zach. As you can see from the bio, “Always Beauty” was new territory for me!
Heartfelt and visual . . . loved it.
Thank you, Beth.
I love the different kid types. So realistic.
Thank you, Kimreads. So often, kids in a family are opposite personalities. I know my three responded to life, each in his unique way–and they shared the same home for twenty years!
this is so beautiful! <3
Thank you, Julia. It all started with three prompts for a contest: a swarm, a festival, and a gossip. Of course, anything with a “swarm” gets the mind leaning toward horror, and I didn’t want my story filled with the ugliness of blood-and-guts terror.
While the original version contained a gossip, I reviewed it for submission to Havok. The gossip wasn’t necessary to the story (although I mention her character as the first person to direct them in the maze), and I ended up pleased with the results. I’m glad you thought it was beautiful, too.
Oh! And I won the contest!
This is a cool juxtaposition of Horror tropes and magical realism. Great job pushing us toward something all clues hint will be horrifying, only to artfully and organically lead us to a beautiful place.
Linda – I loved the story. The writing, especially, was spectacular.
I know the ending was one where he didn’t get what he expected, but what he needed, but I can’t help think… did they make it out of the maze?
And I’ve never seen a real cicada. Just those creepy skins they shed. Ew.
Anyway, YAY for publishing with Havok!!!!!!!!!
Thank you, Lisa. Every author loves to hear the word “spectacular!” I have Editor Michael to thank for the extra polish.
The nice thing about a corn maze, you can’t really get lost. If Justin decided to give up, he could make his way through the stalks to the edge of the field. Kezia might object to getting a little scratched up, though!
Thank you, Steve. As a writer, I can acknowledge the existence of evil, but as a Christian, I’m compelled to offer light to my readers. I can’t leave them in darkness.
Your words painted a beautiful story! You had us at , “Metallic blues and greens glinted…..” Congratulations!
Corn fields, corn mazes and a “snipe” hunt with $100 prize made for a fun read. Nicely done.
That was beautiful. Cicadas gross me out, but I love that a boy found beauty in them. Sometimes this summer it’s hard to think of anything but them! And with everyone leaving the maze because of them, I suspect they have a good chance at the prize.