In the Tall Grass

by Stephen King

“Go back to the road!” the woman screamed. Now she sounded closer, too. “Go back while you still can!”

The grass flows and you flow too.

Directions melted in the tall grass, and time melted as well: a Dalí world with Kansas stereo.

It’s easier to find things in here once they’re dead. The field doesn’t move dead things around.”

“A girl once hid in tall grass,” she crooned. “And ambushed any boy who walked past. As lions eat gazelles, so many men fell, and each tasted better than the last.”