For the last Finding Clarity: Mid-Week Flash

Octopus Cloud Over Empty Field, Oil on Canvas of Pain By Boyd Miles My head ached and my feet hurt, I wasn't sure where I was. The sky couldn't possibly be normal but I couldn't tell you what was wrong with it. The colours were vivid and bright but somehow not right and I'm sure clouds just don't look like that. The road was empty and there were fields on both sides, where could I be where there were roads through fields? I can't remember an empty street and never anything bigger than a vacant lot, these were fields like in a movie or painting. Painting, like a painting. When did I last see a painting? Did it look like this? I must be dreaming but for a dream there was an awful lot of very realistic pain. Each step took me, as far as I could tell, no closer to an answer, no one to even ask. There was a wind in my face, it was cold but the sun was hot and the pavement burned my feet. The clouds swirled like an octopus, a bright light in the centre, bright and cold, tentacles swirling without sound. My head ached and my feet hurt, I walked on, getting no closer to anything. Fields, clouds, empty road, along with pain my whole world. Don't know how I got here.