Beyond the parking lot of the factory, there was a treeless field covered with grass, what is called a Prairie in the Midwest. Surrounded by mundane blacktop streets and brick bungalows, this wild patch of land became an oasis of the Imagination for a young boy, a foreboding jungle, where Tarzan or Conan replayed endless adventures, or the desolate wasteland of a distant Martian planet. Chance always felt rejuvenated, taken back in time, whenever he gazed on it behind the chain linked fence. Unsure of its expanse, it might have only been a mere city block or maybe it extended forever. Rather than being ultimately disappointed, he preferred to leave its geography a mystery. Although at the end of another day’s drudgery, many times, he just wished that he could hop the fence and run through its gold and yellow wildflowers forever.
One of the denizens of the dreamscape was a lame rabbit that Chance had named Nibbles. His front right shrivel-paw was bent crookedly upwards towards his furry breastplate, yet he still managed to bravely outrun the pack of stray cats that tormented his every waking moment. Everyday Chance would save some of the carrot shavings from the salad of his cafeteria lunch in a napkin, carry them around in his shirt pocket, and then dribble them along the fence at the end of his shift. Nibbles would look at him in his usual sideways you-can’t-see-me fashion and sniff around a bit before recognizing his human friend. Gingerly, he’d wobble-hop forward for his not so crispy carrots. This unlikely alliance had become the favorite part of Chance’s existence, and it never failed to cheer away the odious doldrums of a long, hard day of work.
With the tail of the year approaching, it looked like the holidays were going to be the last gasp of breath for the factory. Though the October unemployment rate was quoted at ten percent, it seemed much higher among the working class. Almost everyone that Chance knew had one or two relatives that had gotten the axe. At his work place, wishing to cut lose the expense of their heath care and higher salaries, the veterans went first, followed shortly by the lesser skilled personnel. The survivors had to pick up the slack, handling as many as four or five times their usual responsibilities. The so-called 'economic downturn' had riddled the building all year; it would seemingly not survive a strong winter gale yet alone the annual post Christmas lag in production. In anticipation, Chance had been saving every cent that he could, skipping vacations and holiday shopping, trying to gather enough cash cushion to get him through the spring as his own imminent layoff loomed near. At the end of every lunch hour, as he gathered up his carrots for Bunny Nibbles, another familiar face would disappear from the cafeteria table never to return again.
One day after work, the inevitable happened. The fence was ten feet tall and toped with razor sharp coils of barbed wire, so there was nothing his human friend could do. One of them had cleverly severed the ham on the back leg opposite his wither-paw. Chance had to stand there and watch as two fat, white alley cats tore Bunny Nibbles to shreds. Surprisingly, the gory spectacle didn’t have as horrible an effect as one would have expected, for Chance had been desensitized all year long by the daily loss of his work comrades. Like most of industrial Mid-America, he had spent so much time preparing for the inevitable doom of the New Year that he had moved beyond the stoical into shell-shocked sublime. In effect, he was no longer able to feel any kind of emotional pain. He lived continually in the now, and he was relieved that his own present survival was still assured. No one else gave the rabbit’s misfortune any attention either. The parking lot gradually emptied out, leaving Chance alone as the night sensors mindlessly lit the amber vapor lights.
It had been a mistake to stand still for so long, for it produced a meditative spell of lucidity. He actually began to cry at the thought of the prairie rabbit’s horrible demise. Once he became emotional, the doorways burst open and the pain-clutters emptied themselves from out of their brain cells. All he knew was that he had to start running across that prairie as fast and as far as he could. Inventive out of necessity, he jumped up, artfully scaled the height, threw his jacket over the razor-wire as a buffer and safely climbed down to the other side. He began to run blindly. The beat was in his feet. The wind combed through his hair. It was an exhilaration and freedom that he hadn’t felt since he was a child. Suddenly, the prairie was illuminated by a brilliant light. The factory had exploded in his wake. He turned and paddled backwards for a moment, watching the leaping yellow and orange flames. The ground became spongy and springy like a trampoline, and he knew now that it was no regular plot of land but the rarest of them all, a runaway prairie that extended well and beyond . . . forever.
Written tonite and published here first.
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