Little place called HellLittle place called Hell2 years ago in Horror More Like This
The first thing I always seem to recall when pulling this memory from the deep depths of my mind--which I don't do often, mind you--is how hot it was that first day on the road. My uncle's car was dragging itself along the highway, as if pulled by some stronger mass to which our eyes were blind, like one of the red ants that covered the dry ground outside drags its next meal to the nest.
Through the window streamed large plates of sunlight, reposed from beams into a mere shadow; a visual illusion of the white disk from which they were beating. Hanging high in the never ending sheet of pale blue, the sun seemed brighter than any day I had witnessed back home--skies usually thick with grey and lavender clouds, or blue with the layers of humidity hanging in the air between us and the space it filled.
The second thing I remember was the gold of the dead fields along which we were driving. They glittered, almost like an ocean of nothingness that connected our road to the horizon, and creati