Adieu, cabbie

When the cab driver's steps drew near, she already had pins and needles in her arm. He halted. He panted horribly, the swine. But Rosie still kept her eyes shut. Okay then, after a while she half-opened them...
She sees deft hands making a quick grab for her. The cabbie's head garlanded with greasy locks - he is telling her she has to get up and go and stand maybe five metres away, and something else... but Rosie suddenly feels as if she is dreaming. The rustling of the trees is charged with energy and sounds louder than the swine's voice. His rabid face obscured the picture of the sun setting over the forests and the black silhouettes of the flying crows observing the unequal contest. After nudging and poking at her for a while the furious cabbie gave up. „Fuck off then!", he even chucked a sod after her, but only hit the bag slung over her shoulder. Rosie walks slowly across the field, the cabbie's enraged voice at her heels. „Turn round!" he calls after her, and when she turns he aims the pistol. But she just walks on. Once again he shouts at her to turn round, and Rosie turns and sees the wood, the sunset and the crows waiting on the branches. And again he calls... and so on. Until she reached the edge of the field by the road and the cabbie's voice had grown weak and the crows were just tiny black dots and the forest a black toothed line separating the earth from the sky.
Then she encountered a bus stop.
The bus was due any second now.