DESCRIPTIVE

My eyes gingerly peeled open in response to the intrusive squawking of birds flapping somewhere overhead. My head was pounding, and I was met with the familiar feeling of nausea swirling through my body—two of the more unpleasant side effects of time travel. My eyes slowly adjusted to the growing brightness which surrounded me. With a slight grimace, I opened my eyes fully to the breathtaking scene which lay before me. It was dawn.

The morning sky was illuminated in glorious technicolor as the golden and brilliant sun made its daily ascent above the clouds. I smiled as I lay on the cold grass, marveling at the beauty of a simple sunrise. I ignored the dew-induced dampness that caused my t-shirt to cling uncomfortably to my goosebump-riddled skin. I lay there for some time, watching as the delicate strokes of pink, orange, and blue unraveled before me in the morning sky. 

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I pulled myself up into a sitting position, allowing a contented sigh to escape from my lips. I was in a field of tall grass blades, which pricked uncomfortably at my skin. The rising sun bounced off each dew-topped grass blade, causing the field to resemble a collection of glimmering emeralds. To my left lay an undulating hilly landscape. Below the hills lay mismatched fields of varying shades of green, separated only by scatterings of houses or winding country lanes. 

I placed my hands on the ground to push myself up and was met with a stinging sensation in the palm of my hand. I yelped and ripped my hand away from the grass before assessing the damage. I recognized the bumps from my history book; it was a nettle sting. I rummaged for its cooling antidote and let out a sigh of relief upon spotting a limp dock leaf nearby. The leaf worked wonders. It cooled the pain like water extinguishing a fire.

The tranquility was interrupted by a low rumbling in the distance. I squinted ahead and made out a rather battered looking tractor making its way towards me. The tractor groaned to a halt a few meters before me. The man’s four-legged collie companion bounded towards me before the man had completed his descent.

I attempted to offer the man an explanation regarding my appearance in his field but mustered only some vague mumbles. The man shook his head in a bemused manner before offering me a lift to the nearest town. I was stunned—where I came from, selfless acts of generosity were a foreign concept. 

The tractor journey was filled with easy conversation. His gravelly voice hinted at years of smoking, confirmed by the crumpled cigarettes on the floor. Outside, the countryside peeled away, replaced with garish shop signs and blinking traffic lights. I thanked him for his transportation. In the town, the main street groaned to life as tired-looking shopkeepers hauled the rattling shutters upwards. Passersby shuffled past, some glued to their phones and others firmly grasping warm coffee cups. I sat down on a dampened bench and watched the world unfold. 

I noticed a schoolgirl dragging her feet past me. Her haphazard shirt collar and messy bun suggested she had rolled out of bed that morning. Her tired eyes lit up as a handsome boy approached her. They exchanged a warm greeting as he took her textbooks, and they chatted contentedly. I sucked in a long breath of crisp morning air. I became frustrated watching selfish drivers in their sleek jeeps, oblivious to the toxic fumes from their exhausts—or perhaps they simply didn’t care. I spotted a hooded figure lying against a graffiti wall, his dirty hands loosely holding a tattered paper cup. I watched as people carefully edged away, avoiding eye contact as if he had a force field of shame surrounding him.

Morning passed into afternoon, and apron-clad baristas placed silver tables and chairs in front of their cafes. The delicious smell of chocolate croissants and muffins wafted my way. In an unhurried manner, I continued my pilgrimage through the bustling town. Soon, the buildings grew smaller, and the glowing streetlamps began to disappear, being replaced by leafy bushes and tall trees. The smell of burning turf floated through the sky like a whisper. The night felt still, as if holding its breath till morning, for the daily cycle to repeat again. The familiar queasiness rose within me. I was ready to return