Excerpt: Prism

Katie Sanders woke up in a field.

A field filled with blinding yellow grass.

She blinked.

"Where am I?" she muttered. She sat up, steadying herself with her hands. The grass feels normal, she thought. She inspected her palms and found that the grass had stained them the same tint of yellow.

"I guess I like butter," she said, and started to laugh, not a little hysterically. She glanced down at herself, checking for any clues as to how she got to this field, and belatedly realized that she was still in her pajamas. Which only made her laugh harder, until she also realized that her flannel pants and tank top were the same color as the field she was sitting in.

She stood up. At least the ground was soft; apparently whoever dragged her to this field in the middle of the night forgot to grab her shoes. Wonderful. She gave herself a brief pat down, checking to see if she'd been left with anything besides herself and her clothes, and came up empty.

The field stretched to the horizon. The sun was to her back, and the sky was a cloudless shade of blue. She thought she saw trees in the distance, but couldn't be sure. Nothing stirred but the grass as a gentle wind blew across the plain. If nothing else, at least I'm in a place that's easy on the eyes, she thought, frowning to herself. She turned, scanning the field for anything that might be a clue to where she was, and...

That's not...why is there an overturned semi truck in the middle of a field?