October always had the brightest of moons. You could see it, even before darkness fell, hovering close by, eager for his turn to come, for the sun to forfeit it’s post atop the lonely watchtower, and the night shift to be announced. But even the valiant attempts of October’s moon did little to illuminate the dark, empty field, its long, dry grasses swaying in the quiet breeze. Dandelion spores danced through patchwork shadows, sewn together by some invisible thread.

The silent atmosphere made you feel as if you were underwater. Stray autumn leaves were caught by the breeze as they fell and were swept away. A cloud of silhouetted fruit bats burst up into the night sky, disturbed by some insignificant movement. And still you could hear nothing. Not a sound.

The air was cooling fast – the last dying relic of a long gone sunset. The soft wind grazed your cheeks as you stepped forward, tiny flying insects flocking around your head. You brushed them away sharply, but with pity as they veered off blindly in another direction. Any other direction.

It’s when the last of the heat evaporated from the air, the last glints of sunlight disappeared, that you pulled your coat tighter and wished you’d worn another layer. The scenery was no longer beautiful. The shade of the sky no longer brought magic to your eyes. This place, it wasn’t a peaceful meadow in the country. Not anymore. It was barren – a wasteland. No big old oak tree with gnarled branches. No squirrels or crows or field mice. Just an abandoned car lot to your left, and in the distance, to your right, the freeway.

And thats when you heard it. Something. The distant roar of cars. Machines at a construction site. A police siren. Anything. Everything.

The chain link fence surrounding the car lot shudders in the wind. Dried, crumpled leaves which had been caught in the wire shook loose and fluttered to the ground. A fringed red-and-white candy stripe shade cloth sheltered the small window of an equally small, white booth. In the darkness, the car yard looked eerie, yet somewhat comical. Like an abandoned carnival-gone-wrong.

On a whim, you stepped up to the fence, curling your fingers through the metal mesh and hoisted yourself up, landing less-than-gracefully on the other side. Your feet kicked up dust clouds from the long-undisturbed ground. You blew the dust from your vision, and surveyed your surroundings. The car yard leered back.