Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Crimes to the Third Degree.
…There is a fence in a broad field, like in Georgia on the farm. The grass is green and high; weather’s pleasant. The fence doesn’t really seem to keep anything in or out. It’s just there. I don’t even think it crosses the whole pasture, but it’s in my field of vision and I haven’t really noticed how far out it extends on either side, but it’s not far and it’s not attached to other fences. The posts are wood. Fancy? Fancy. The posts are square, smooth, almost like patio posts, with beveled edges, and the wire is rusty but holding up well, mostly upright, with a row of barbed wire, equally rusty across the top. Seems incongruous. You’d never find that kind of post in a field, but you’d never find that kind of wire attached to patio posts.
My old friend is sitting cross-legged atop this fence, not really on the fence posts, but like floating/hovering just above. Very pleasant and non-chalant. She doesn’t move forward or backward, so I never see her sides or back, just her front, and she moves sideways above the fence, always facing out, toward me. This weird arcade-like effect. She likes the mobility, although in fact it’s not so mobile because she can move in only two directions—to her left or to her right. Sometimes she whirrrrrrsas she moves along really fast. She’s still when someone’s talking and she’s listening, but other than that, she’s usually moving back and forth while she waits for the next entity to visit with her. I think she’s wearing purple. She seems to be human and looks enough like herself that I recognize her on sight.
I am on one side of the fence. I don’t sense that I’m alone exactly. There are others on my side of this fence but they aren’t anywhere near. It’s like I’m out there on the fringes of the field. But it can’t be the fringes because there’s a vastness beyond the fence. I’m not sure I’m human. I’m closer to the ground, like a rabbit or a fox or something. The fence must be about 5 feet tall, but it’s taller than I am. Taller than any of us on either side of the fence. I’m not sure what species we are. Just that she’s the only one who appears human in this vision and she’s floating.
Most of the time, when I approach the fence, she is there alone. We talk and all is well. Even from a distance, when I look at the fence, she is zipping along sideways, like on a magic carpet, back and forth along the fence. It’s…funny. Then I approach, she stops, we talk, I leave, and she goes back to zipping along. For all the motion, she’s not going anywhere, though. She’s in a groove, so the idea of movement is an illusion. No matter how fast she goes. It’s actually very confined, moreso than those of us on the ground.
Others, entities like me, on the other side of the fence approach and talk to her, but she doesn’t turn her back. She turns only her head to talk to them. She talks to them over her shoulder, looking down at them (down at, not down on) because they are shorter. When they leave, she goes back to zipping along. She never rises or lowers or moves into either field. She is perfectly aligned with the damned fence.
I occasionally approach the fence when the other entities are there, on the other side, talking to her, or just there, sniffing the wind. I have the sense of a snout on one of them, smelling the air. Teeth. Wart hog? I’m not sure of the animal. They seem to wander about, some of them together, but there’s no particular sense of cohesion. I have a sense of my own animal face, and there are teeth and a strong jaw, more canine. A growl in the throat. I stand on one side of the fence and they on the other, and we talk/communicate. There is some disagreement but no physical interaction. The fence doesn’t hold either of us back—it’s just a boundary of sorts. We can always go around the fence at either end to explore the rest of the field.
She says absolutely nothing but watches the interaction. I ask her a question, but she gives an answer that means nothing. It’s a question she’s answered before, many times, and she knows the answer. Yet she says nothing now. She continues to watch. They ask her a question. She gives them an answer that means nothing. She continues to watch. Our disagreement escalates. Our species have different languages and communication is sometimes difficult. She understands both languages. I ask her help in translating for me, but she becomes shy and awkward, unable to answer. Then she begins to zip back and forth while watching us talk, though she usually is still for discussions.
I am bitten—through the fence. It’s sudden and I’m surprised. But I don’t sense it at first in my own body but while in theirs. My intelligence stays in my body, but I can feel the physicality of their bodies from inside their bodies, though not their emotions or motives as I have in other visions. I feel my fur and flesh in someone’s mouth. The fur is black and dog-like. A black lab? Is that what I am? A Doberman? I think I’m a Doberman. I’m sleek and muscular and with a jaw that will kill if it seizes anything and legs to flee and I’m a little powerhouse, but I’ve spent my strength being curious rather than in attack. If I attack, blood will soil this place. It’s like I move from my animal body into theirs, alternately feeling sensations.
Back in my animal body, I feel the flow of my blood and I retreat rather than attack. If I attack, I will destroy. I lie in the field at a safe distance. Twenty feet away? Thirty? My old friend is zipping along, back and forth, and the others are at the fence, sniffing the air. They are others more educated and more important than I am. Some I can name. Every now and then, they will ask her a question, and she stops the zigzag movement and talks to them over her shoulder. It’s hardly noticeable except that her lips move. The conversations are lowly-spoken, but with my canine ears, I hear all. And I do not like what it is she says when she thinks I don’t hear.
I lie in the warm grass and lick the blood from my matted black fur and watch and listen. My wounds are healing….
…There is a fence in a broad field, like in Georgia on the farm. The grass is green and high; weather’s pleasant. The fence doesn’t really seem to keep anything in or out. It’s just there. I don’t even think it crosses the whole pasture, but it’s in my field of vision and I haven’t really noticed how far out it extends on either side, but it’s not far and it’s not attached to other fences. The posts are wood. Fancy? Fancy. The posts are square, smooth, almost like patio posts, with beveled edges, and the wire is rusty but holding up well, mostly upright, with a row of barbed wire, equally rusty across the top. Seems incongruous. You’d never find that kind of post in a field, but you’d never find that kind of wire attached to patio posts.
My old friend is sitting cross-legged atop this fence, not really on the fence posts, but like floating/hovering just above. Very pleasant and non-chalant. She doesn’t move forward or backward, so I never see her sides or back, just her front, and she moves sideways above the fence, always facing out, toward me. This weird arcade-like effect. She likes the mobility, although in fact it’s not so mobile because she can move in only two directions—to her left or to her right. Sometimes she whirrrrrrsas she moves along really fast. She’s still when someone’s talking and she’s listening, but other than that, she’s usually moving back and forth while she waits for the next entity to visit with her. I think she’s wearing purple. She seems to be human and looks enough like herself that I recognize her on sight.
I am on one side of the fence. I don’t sense that I’m alone exactly. There are others on my side of this fence but they aren’t anywhere near. It’s like I’m out there on the fringes of the field. But it can’t be the fringes because there’s a vastness beyond the fence. I’m not sure I’m human. I’m closer to the ground, like a rabbit or a fox or something. The fence must be about 5 feet tall, but it’s taller than I am. Taller than any of us on either side of the fence. I’m not sure what species we are. Just that she’s the only one who appears human in this vision and she’s floating.
Most of the time, when I approach the fence, she is there alone. We talk and all is well. Even from a distance, when I look at the fence, she is zipping along sideways, like on a magic carpet, back and forth along the fence. It’s…funny. Then I approach, she stops, we talk, I leave, and she goes back to zipping along. For all the motion, she’s not going anywhere, though. She’s in a groove, so the idea of movement is an illusion. No matter how fast she goes. It’s actually very confined, moreso than those of us on the ground.
Others, entities like me, on the other side of the fence approach and talk to her, but she doesn’t turn her back. She turns only her head to talk to them. She talks to them over her shoulder, looking down at them (down at, not down on) because they are shorter. When they leave, she goes back to zipping along. She never rises or lowers or moves into either field. She is perfectly aligned with the damned fence.
I occasionally approach the fence when the other entities are there, on the other side, talking to her, or just there, sniffing the wind. I have the sense of a snout on one of them, smelling the air. Teeth. Wart hog? I’m not sure of the animal. They seem to wander about, some of them together, but there’s no particular sense of cohesion. I have a sense of my own animal face, and there are teeth and a strong jaw, more canine. A growl in the throat. I stand on one side of the fence and they on the other, and we talk/communicate. There is some disagreement but no physical interaction. The fence doesn’t hold either of us back—it’s just a boundary of sorts. We can always go around the fence at either end to explore the rest of the field.
She says absolutely nothing but watches the interaction. I ask her a question, but she gives an answer that means nothing. It’s a question she’s answered before, many times, and she knows the answer. Yet she says nothing now. She continues to watch. They ask her a question. She gives them an answer that means nothing. She continues to watch. Our disagreement escalates. Our species have different languages and communication is sometimes difficult. She understands both languages. I ask her help in translating for me, but she becomes shy and awkward, unable to answer. Then she begins to zip back and forth while watching us talk, though she usually is still for discussions.
I am bitten—through the fence. It’s sudden and I’m surprised. But I don’t sense it at first in my own body but while in theirs. My intelligence stays in my body, but I can feel the physicality of their bodies from inside their bodies, though not their emotions or motives as I have in other visions. I feel my fur and flesh in someone’s mouth. The fur is black and dog-like. A black lab? Is that what I am? A Doberman? I think I’m a Doberman. I’m sleek and muscular and with a jaw that will kill if it seizes anything and legs to flee and I’m a little powerhouse, but I’ve spent my strength being curious rather than in attack. If I attack, blood will soil this place. It’s like I move from my animal body into theirs, alternately feeling sensations.
Back in my animal body, I feel the flow of my blood and I retreat rather than attack. If I attack, I will destroy. I lie in the field at a safe distance. Twenty feet away? Thirty? My old friend is zipping along, back and forth, and the others are at the fence, sniffing the air. They are others more educated and more important than I am. Some I can name. Every now and then, they will ask her a question, and she stops the zigzag movement and talks to them over her shoulder. It’s hardly noticeable except that her lips move. The conversations are lowly-spoken, but with my canine ears, I hear all. And I do not like what it is she says when she thinks I don’t hear.
I lie in the warm grass and lick the blood from my matted black fur and watch and listen. My wounds are healing….
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