Image courtesy of Erin and/or Jonathan Waldie
http://oreosandspiltmilk.wordpress.com/2014/06/27/the-wheatfield/
TUESDAY MORNING – Bond Cramer Residence
The wheat field was ablaze in the afternoon sun. I walked along the dirt road until reaching a patch of grass. I slowly got down, leaned against the old wooden bench and admired the golden spectacle. I felt awesome, painless, happy. Life was good. It felt so good to be alive.
BEEP – Six o’clock in Western Europe – The news! This awesome dream was always interrupted by the morning news. I tried to lift my arm to hit the mute button. The movement hurt and I gave up. The water bottle and the pain killers was in easy reach on my night-stand. Easy to reach if you do not ache. My sciatic nerve and some tendons were prone to inflammation. Painkillers numbed the pain more or less, heat was a blessing.
TUESDAY MORNING – English train station
Tara and Leon boarded a northbound train. They often travelled like that, into the blue, enjoying the landscape passing by, always ready to get off the train and explore the region. An hour later, the train had to stop at a tiny village station, caused by some engine troubles. All passengers were asked to leave the train until further notice. Most of them were already on the phone, trying to tell their contacts about the delay. Leon told Tara he was going to explore different possibilities to continue their journey. Tara agreed, as usual intending to scan her environment for photo-worthy angles. As she walked around the station, she passed an aged truck. A twenty-something guy, giggling like mad, jumped up from behind. “Trespassing!” He seized her arm and pulled her toward a wooden door. She tried to break free – to no avail. He was too strong. Inside, he shoved her on a chair.
It took Tara’s eyes several seconds to adjust to the relative darkness of the little room. On the other side of the table sat – famous actor Ken Cramer. He was still quite good-looking, despite his arrogant smirk. He and model Belle Blue were exchanging wet kisses. Belle apparently loved dotted dresses. In her cereal advertisements she always wore blue dresses with white dots, as she did now. She scowled at the newcomers. Ken Cramer lifted an eyebrow. “Trespasser, trespasser!”
Ken eyed Tara for three seemingly endless seconds. “Belt.”
The twenty-something guy jumped up and down with glee. “Back, or bottom?”
Ken indicated Tara’s left upper arm.
The guy with the belt shoved Tara’s left sleeve up to her shoulder, and whipped her. Hard. Tara cried out, blood already welling down her arm. The second and third blows were agony.
“Get her out – now!”
Tara was roughly pulled from the room. She stumbled around the corner to the station’s only platform. The defective train was gone. She felt nauseous, her arm was still bleeding. As Leon returned with the station manager, she could barely keep her eyes open. The station manager hurried back to his office to get the first-aid kit. Leon opened a bottle of water and helped Tara drink. The men then dressed her wound. She had sufficiently recovered to answer their question. The station manager regarded Tara quizzically. “None of the residents around her drives an aged and rusty truck. The room is always locked. And what in heaven’s name would Ken Cramer do at our station; and even cheating on his wife! Let’s go there and check.”
They went round the corner to the back. The truck was gone. The door was closed, yet unlocked. They went inside. The station manager switched on the light. Tara’s blood was clearly visible. “I guess I owe you an apology.”
“Is there a possibility to hire a car?” Leon had recovered enough to be his usual practical self.
Half an hour later, Tara and Leon were in a rental car, headed to the Bond Cramer residence.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON – Bond Cramer residence
Leon pulled up in front of the house. Beautiful flowerbeds and well-groomed bushes invitingly led to the entrance. Leon rang the doorbell. Only seconds later, I opened the door. Tara and Leon were perplexed. At the residence of a well-known heiress and her famous husband, they had expected to be greeted by a maid or a butler.
I questioningly looked at my visitors. “Do I know you?”
“Hello Mrs. Bond, we are Tara and Leon Maitland. Does your husband have a vicious twin?”
I was thunderstruck. My eyes wandered from Tara’s face to her arm which had resumed bleeding. Automatically, I held my left upper arm.
“Oh no,” Tara stated softly. “There is no twin.”
I beckoned them to enter, leading them into my beautiful and comfortable kitchen, then excused myself to fetch more appropriate dressing material. I had become an expert in dressing wounds like this. “I think hot beverages are in order, now. Would you prefer coffee or tea?” Tara and Leon opted for coffee.
“Mrs. Bond…” – I interrupted her. “Please call me Lydia.”
“Lydia, this morning I had the strangest experience…”
I listened to her story in anguish. I knew that he had cheated on me before. I didn’t know that he cheated on me with Belle Blue. I knew her when she still was Celia Bradley – my best friend. My face must have given away my mixed emotions as Leon cleared his throat, asking me why I didn’t divorce Ken.
“Believe me, Leon. I would have divorced him. He just tricked me in a marriage contract. I would lose everything I inherited from my family in case of a divorce. If only there was documented proof of what happened today!”
Tara looked at me and smiled. “There is a kind of documented proof. You see, when either Leon or I experience something really bad, a close friend of us can see it. Luke is a recognised Reiki master and an established court consultant.”
“Tara is right. It won’t take long until he arrives. He senses where we are. Perhaps you might want to contact your solicitor.”
I didn’t have a solicitor – yet. It was quite easy to find one, though. As there were only two in our town, I opted for the one who was not part of Ken’s entourage.
Luke and the solicitor arrived at the same time. We elaborated a first concept, agreeing on meeting again the next day. Luke had immediately realised that my pain killers were wearing off. He offered me a treatment after the solicitor had left. It was wonderful. He asked me to think of a beautiful place where I felt at peace with the world. I conjured the wheat field in the afternoon sun. He started and his hovering hands seemed to dissolve all my pains.
FOUR MONTHS LATER – Bond residence
Four crazy months had passed in a blur. My marriage with Ken Cramer was a thing of the past. The evidence against him was enough for the judge and the jurors, meaning I could keep what was always mine. I didn’t want anything from Ken – I just wanted to be rid of him. The public finally learned the truth about their hero: he was an abuser and adulterer. He replaced Belle Blue with a beautiful redhead who was fifteen years younger. I had found three friends who supported me in realising my dream: replace my former husband’s golf course with endless wheat fields. I found a willing farmer who converted the dull golf course into beautiful wheat fields. I did no longer need painkillers; according to Luke and his wisdom, these pains of mine had psychological causes. As I no longer suffered abuse, the pain was completely gone.
ONE YEAR LATER – Bond residence
The wheat field is ablaze in the afternoon sun. I walk along the dirt road until reaching a patch of grass. I get down, lean against the old wooden bench and admire the golden spectacle. I feel awesome, painless, happy. Life is good. It feels so good to be alive. I am Lydia Bond and – I am happy.
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Jonathan Waldie’s beautiful photograph inspired me to write this short story. My special thanks to his sister Erin – for posting it on her blog. Thank you so much, Erin! ⭐
http://oreosandspiltmilk.wordpress.com/
Please visit Erin’s awesome blog and find amazing content. 
My second inspiration: I had a dream about a train ride, and an adulterous actor.
My third inspiration: An amazing Reiki master. If you read this, you know that Luke is based on you.
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In a small compass... 
Reblogged this on Charlotte Gerber.