The wheat field is soundless under the cloudless night. The road trail of the field is empty, dust moving with the breeze in a whisper.
The grasshoppers don't chipper, the crows nibble against the worms in silence, and even the sway of the wheat strands doesn't speak to the wind.
In the midst is a single black crow fraying away from his pack.
The crow flocks its feathers, nibbling into the soil, plucking a dirty earthworm from the ground. It lifts its beak, the worm wiggling against it. The crow stares out into the wheat strands, anticipation stilling its feathers.
The crow watches the wheat strands. A sway away. Further ingrained in the dirt. Silent as the whole wheatfield. No being—
A hand smacks to the ground beside the crow, causing the crow to flock away in fright, disappearing above the wheat strands. The hand latches onto the ground for dear life, its bloody nails digging into the soil, scooping up dirt like a ladle.
The figure is a girl, young and limp, crawling against the dirt like a snake, leaving a path of blood in her wake.
She slightly groans as she pushes her body forward, shock expressed on her face. Her white robe is drenched in dirt and blood. Her tousled hair is rich in grim.
The girl's dark brown face is lit blue under the moon. Her eyes glitter, and even as blood drips down from her head and nose she feigns an innocence-like beauty. At one point in time, she thought that beauty could save her.
But it led to a sword through her chest.
The air becomes cold as the breeze becomes heavy around her, and suddenly the soundless field is thrashing against the wheat strands until it's silent no more. Strands begin to pluck from the ground and fly in the wind direction.
The girl lifts her body with the help of the wind, her hair pushed away from her face. Chills run down her body, disbelief widening her eyes. The air in front of her is condensed into a spiral of purple energy—into Dark Magic.
When the energy fades, a cloaked figure stands before her.
The air is draped in silence once again.
The only audible thing heard is the girl's tremble and mutters of a hushed prayer, her dirty hands reaching for the silver cross on her neck.
The Demon that had appeared was faceless, darkness against its cloaked face as it bent towards the girl, its clawed black nails reaching to her face.
The girl's wide eyes glistened with tears, a single one falling from her cheek as the clawed hands gripped the corners of her face. Her hands are still gripping the cross at her neck.
She closed her eyes.
—
Veronica opens her eyes, tears fresh against her eyelids as she stares around the seminar room in fright.
The windows were shaded, and the fluorescent lights were bright, making the room almost blinding. It made her eyes water even more.
She began to become aware of her existence, the blob of flesh that she was. Fit in a loose knitted sweater and tight jeans, she felt herself coming back, drifting away from the flashback.
The U-shaped table is filled with troubled students, all staring at Veronica as if horns suddenly appeared on her head. The murmurs were subtle, but Veronica heard it well enough.
Is she okay? What the hell's wrong with her?
Her professor, Dr. Landson stands in the middle of the U-table, fit in an academic suit straight out of a district attorney closet. His bushy brow lifted in concern. "Ms. Carter? Are you all right?"
Veronica shifted in her seat, looking at her both worried and irritated classmates. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
Dr. Landson clears his throat, his gaze turning to the table.
The blackboard behind him noted in chalk: "Central Problems in Philosophy"
"What I asked was, Is the belief in God rational? Now before any of you can answer that question we must look at the timeline when religion was first constructed. For instance …" he pauses, facing us all. "Anyone care to give an example?"
"HOG?" A student asked. "Karen Armstrong's book on the prime trinity?"
Dr. Landson clicks his tongue. "Err not quite. While the History of God represented a good timeline of the major beliefs, there wasn't justifiable evidence on why faith existed in the first place."
Veronica sat up, her fingers grazing her MacBook in interest. She hated herself for drifting off back into that memory. Flashbacks came to her from time to time, but she usually controlled them through caffeine and tapping the band on her wrist. But nowadays they are controlling—practically possessing her.
She turned her attention to her professor, trying to forget what had happened.
Dr. Landson continued. "Before innovation became a word—before even morals became a word. All before good and evil were justifiable. What made the belief in a God rational?"
Dr. Landson maneuvers from his position, walking around the U-table in a confident stride. "Rhetorically, faith is not justifiable. I have no reason to question faith, nor why it exists. But God ... God is a different thing altogether."
Dr. Landson's gaze returns to Veronica, who lifts her head to meet him, feeling uneasy. She fumbles with her hands.
"So Veronica, answer the question."
The twelve students in the seminar room, including Dr. Landson, awaited her answer. Veronica's mouth opened, but nothing came out. She stank of anxiety and Dr. Landson could tell from the narrowness of his eyes.
She took a deep breath and stared at her fingers. "I think God is … I think people who believe in his existence are … coping with the horrors of the world. But I can't do anything about it."
The room is silent, confusion in the air. But Dr. Landson says nothing, awaiting more.
Veronica begins picking at her nails. "I mean, a majority of religious people are the working class—most of the working class, if not subjected to the system, upholds moral values. But the corrupt … the rich and the privileged don't believe in a higher power because they are the higher power …"
Dr. Landson crosses his arms against his steamed brown suit. "So you think faith has to do with economics. The poorer you are the more likely you'll believe in a higher being that'll bless you if you follow a set of rules."
Veronica shakes her head, her eyes now back on Dr. Landson. "It's more than that. I don't think believing in God is about rationality. I believe it's about survival and adjusting to the life you were born in. Isn't that why faith exists, to give us hope for a better world? A reward after the battle we fought in living here on earth."
Dr. Landson smiles, staring at Veronica in almost pride at her answer. "That's quite the theory, Ms. Carter. Thank you."
A female student, Jessica Reed, with shiny blonde hair raises her hand. Her fingers glittered in colored rings and the blouse she wore was designer. "Sorry to cut in but don't you think that's pessimistic? Faith has done a lot more good than bad if you think about it. Like health and social issues."
A male student, Tyler Olsen, in an NYU T-shirt nods his head. "I agree, I mean, Christianity for example led to a lot of turning points in history. Faith helped promote harmony among settlers, the backbone of the civil rights movement, and created a community among people that built this country—"
Veronica cuts in. "People left their countries to get away from their theocratic governments. Religions killed and enslaved millions of people."
Jessica and Tyler stared at Veronica in annoyance.
"And helped sustain the morality of millions—" Jessica began.
Veronica scoffs. "You can't just list events that faith leads without mentioning how."
Jessica's eye twitches. "Well, this is a damn Philosophy course, not Global History."
Dr. Landson gives Jessica a warning look. "Ms. Reed, that's enough. Ms. Carter you can rest aside—"
Veronica cuts him off, nowhere near done with her debate with Jessica. "Philosophy is history. It's about existence and ethics. I'm not dense. Don't tell me the difference between the Whys and Hows."
Jessica gave Veronica a spiteful look, eyes averting to an equally annoyed Tyler.
Dr. Landson clears his throat, brows to his forehead in surprise. He clasps his hands, leaning against the end table. He begins to go around asking for thesis statements, trying to die down the heated conversation between Veronica and Jessica. But the class was still tense and the girls stared at each other in pure irritation.
Veronica usually fidgeted and didn't hold eye contact with people that made her uncomfortable, but she didn't fear Jessica, she found her tragically stuck in time. Something about her innocent appearance and the silver cross on her neck made Veronica dislike her. She wasn't an atheist but she found extremeist faithful people tiresome.
It reminded her too much of home.
She feeds off the heat of the glares like a victor coming home from a long battle.