In this place, there is no notion of distance, of how near or far something may be. The landscape is flat, or so it seems, and you can see for miles. Standing here, amongst the rushing grasses, you are exposed, as if the very sun is stripping you bare and your soul is naked before God.
You could get lost out here. You could wander for days and never find a tree, or another person, never getting closer to where you want to go. If you are lucky, some kind soul who knows this place will find you before your bones are bleached white by the sun.
Sometimes, you might stumble across the corpse of someone, lost, just like you. The body is spread-eagled in a dip in the harsh, flat landscape, as in a shallow grave. It is disturbed by animals, the clothes and bones marked by sharp teeth, animals never seen but heard screaming in the night. Animals heard hunting in the mist.
During the day, this place is unbearably hot, the sun beating down with no hope of shelter. Shadows, the terror of the night, are longed for. Your lips crack in the heat as your last friendly drop of water slides down your parched throat. You long for night, for the absence of the burning sun.
Then, night comes, and the mist descends. It sinks to the ground, smothering, pressing its way into small dips and potholes that are hidden by the grass. You can't see anything now. There are no landmarks, no lone tree to orient yourself. The mist is oppressive.
At night, the cold is overwhelming. The mist touches everything, dampening your clothes, your hair, soaking the blanket that you huddle in to provide some scant warmth. The cold burrows down to your bone, until you are burning with it. Frost spreads like fire through this place, turning the grass to shards of glass.
The mist feels solid, trying to drown you, suffocate you. You long for the day now, for the sun to chase the mist away.
And the wind. It cuts through your soaked blanket as though it is nothing. It sings and howls with the forgotten voices of this place, the souls who wandered in here and were trapped for all eternity. Lost in this wilderness, where direction and distance no longer have meaning.
"Join us," the wind sings, caressing, biting. "Join us."
In this place, death will be a relief.