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Twas a normal day; bunny's would chirp, bird's would hop around the field with joy, friendly faces scattered wherever my eyes would take me. I've always said that death wouldn't be a problem if it were like Rapen Creek, since I was but the smallest of people I've lived here, worked here and looked after my loving family here.
The moon was bright this evening; the entire village was bathed in a silver light that was too stunning for mere descriptions on paper, it was nearing the silver year, you see, and season had already begun. Once every four years we get our home covered in this silver blinding for a whole year, some folk are scared of what might happen if they venture too far, some folk don't even bother with the tender meat that our livestock give because they're either too deep in the darkness or have fled from such a scene. We don't believe in such myths that scar those who live in fear, talk of spouted flowers that stare into your eyes like the jewellery of kings, testing your conscience for weaknesses. Things so rare cannot be trusted by our folk.
No, we're but normal people here, such things don't lead to fear. Work would start late in Rapen Creek, hunting for food and building are primarily what we do, nothing but manual work for the price of a meal; nothing but wheat sticks and fresh water for a day, to be brought back for breakfast on the break of dawn.
This isn’t an odd place, just different, the people who live here do things how they please, not in such a manner that forces others to change, not with such influence that they affect our humble society. The butcher of livestock makes what he wants and the customer gets what he wants. We make our own routines and don't live by such menial things as rules or law.
Every night at 2.00 I see a man waiting, never late or early, he walks to his seat and sits there for about an hour, then leaves. Not in such a way that it would cause suspicion, he just looks at the moon and smiles, his eyes would glint if he wasn't but a blind man and he would celebrate he wasn't so frail. "Do you have the time?" he would ask every time I passed him and I'd leave an answer in my wake, it was always the same. He was always waiting for something; perhaps he too wanted to see Rapen Creek when heaven opened to him, despite his lack of sight. But in this town you need all you can.
So I tore him to pieces.
To feast upon meat once again is a pleasure I long forgot after our livestock ran from our very house. The blood warmed my spirits and my body, the tender flesh snapped as I ripped in from his limbs.
That morning was a one of the best I've seen in small life. The look on my families faces when I returned with that corpse high above my head; the joy that we would finally be getting a meal was something I hadn't seen for some time. The children would carve into the carcass as my wife and I would set the table, it was a feast to remember.
Now we have nothing to show for it, our house is but white padding, no meat to be seen, just the faint cry of livestock in the distance.
----------
Thanks for reading
The moon was bright this evening; the entire village was bathed in a silver light that was too stunning for mere descriptions on paper, it was nearing the silver year, you see, and season had already begun. Once every four years we get our home covered in this silver blinding for a whole year, some folk are scared of what might happen if they venture too far, some folk don't even bother with the tender meat that our livestock give because they're either too deep in the darkness or have fled from such a scene. We don't believe in such myths that scar those who live in fear, talk of spouted flowers that stare into your eyes like the jewellery of kings, testing your conscience for weaknesses. Things so rare cannot be trusted by our folk.
No, we're but normal people here, such things don't lead to fear. Work would start late in Rapen Creek, hunting for food and building are primarily what we do, nothing but manual work for the price of a meal; nothing but wheat sticks and fresh water for a day, to be brought back for breakfast on the break of dawn.
This isn’t an odd place, just different, the people who live here do things how they please, not in such a manner that forces others to change, not with such influence that they affect our humble society. The butcher of livestock makes what he wants and the customer gets what he wants. We make our own routines and don't live by such menial things as rules or law.
Every night at 2.00 I see a man waiting, never late or early, he walks to his seat and sits there for about an hour, then leaves. Not in such a way that it would cause suspicion, he just looks at the moon and smiles, his eyes would glint if he wasn't but a blind man and he would celebrate he wasn't so frail. "Do you have the time?" he would ask every time I passed him and I'd leave an answer in my wake, it was always the same. He was always waiting for something; perhaps he too wanted to see Rapen Creek when heaven opened to him, despite his lack of sight. But in this town you need all you can.
So I tore him to pieces.
To feast upon meat once again is a pleasure I long forgot after our livestock ran from our very house. The blood warmed my spirits and my body, the tender flesh snapped as I ripped in from his limbs.
That morning was a one of the best I've seen in small life. The look on my families faces when I returned with that corpse high above my head; the joy that we would finally be getting a meal was something I hadn't seen for some time. The children would carve into the carcass as my wife and I would set the table, it was a feast to remember.
Now we have nothing to show for it, our house is but white padding, no meat to be seen, just the faint cry of livestock in the distance.
----------
Thanks for reading
Dark picture. I liked the bit about the silver binding every 4 years: reminds of the paranormal 'Angel Hair'.
Paradox: wrote:
> trodden*
Shut it.
:D
> trodden*
Shut it.
:D
I liked it allot Rickoss.
trodden*
"So I tore him to pieces"
Excellent technique there, the way you shock the reader and bring them back down to earth with a bang. Very good story, a bit on the dark side of things, but who hasn't trod there? Very good.
Excellent technique there, the way you shock the reader and bring them back down to earth with a bang. Very good story, a bit on the dark side of things, but who hasn't trod there? Very good.
I know I encouraged you when you said you wanted to write, but damn, I wish I hadn't you sick, sick puppy!
I thought it was going to be a nice little heart-warming tale until you butchered it!
Psycho!
I thought it was going to be a nice little heart-warming tale until you butchered it!
Psycho!
Twas a normal day; bunny's would chirp, bird's would hop around the field with joy, friendly faces scattered wherever my eyes would take me. I've always said that death wouldn't be a problem if it were like Rapen Creek, since I was but the smallest of people I've lived here, worked here and looked after my loving family here.
The moon was bright this evening; the entire village was bathed in a silver light that was too stunning for mere descriptions on paper, it was nearing the silver year, you see, and season had already begun. Once every four years we get our home covered in this silver blinding for a whole year, some folk are scared of what might happen if they venture too far, some folk don't even bother with the tender meat that our livestock give because they're either too deep in the darkness or have fled from such a scene. We don't believe in such myths that scar those who live in fear, talk of spouted flowers that stare into your eyes like the jewellery of kings, testing your conscience for weaknesses. Things so rare cannot be trusted by our folk.
No, we're but normal people here, such things don't lead to fear. Work would start late in Rapen Creek, hunting for food and building are primarily what we do, nothing but manual work for the price of a meal; nothing but wheat sticks and fresh water for a day, to be brought back for breakfast on the break of dawn.
This isn’t an odd place, just different, the people who live here do things how they please, not in such a manner that forces others to change, not with such influence that they affect our humble society. The butcher of livestock makes what he wants and the customer gets what he wants. We make our own routines and don't live by such menial things as rules or law.
Every night at 2.00 I see a man waiting, never late or early, he walks to his seat and sits there for about an hour, then leaves. Not in such a way that it would cause suspicion, he just looks at the moon and smiles, his eyes would glint if he wasn't but a blind man and he would celebrate he wasn't so frail. "Do you have the time?" he would ask every time I passed him and I'd leave an answer in my wake, it was always the same. He was always waiting for something; perhaps he too wanted to see Rapen Creek when heaven opened to him, despite his lack of sight. But in this town you need all you can.
So I tore him to pieces.
To feast upon meat once again is a pleasure I long forgot after our livestock ran from our very house. The blood warmed my spirits and my body, the tender flesh snapped as I ripped in from his limbs.
That morning was a one of the best I've seen in small life. The look on my families faces when I returned with that corpse high above my head; the joy that we would finally be getting a meal was something I hadn't seen for some time. The children would carve into the carcass as my wife and I would set the table, it was a feast to remember.
Now we have nothing to show for it, our house is but white padding, no meat to be seen, just the faint cry of livestock in the distance.
----------
Thanks for reading
The moon was bright this evening; the entire village was bathed in a silver light that was too stunning for mere descriptions on paper, it was nearing the silver year, you see, and season had already begun. Once every four years we get our home covered in this silver blinding for a whole year, some folk are scared of what might happen if they venture too far, some folk don't even bother with the tender meat that our livestock give because they're either too deep in the darkness or have fled from such a scene. We don't believe in such myths that scar those who live in fear, talk of spouted flowers that stare into your eyes like the jewellery of kings, testing your conscience for weaknesses. Things so rare cannot be trusted by our folk.
No, we're but normal people here, such things don't lead to fear. Work would start late in Rapen Creek, hunting for food and building are primarily what we do, nothing but manual work for the price of a meal; nothing but wheat sticks and fresh water for a day, to be brought back for breakfast on the break of dawn.
This isn’t an odd place, just different, the people who live here do things how they please, not in such a manner that forces others to change, not with such influence that they affect our humble society. The butcher of livestock makes what he wants and the customer gets what he wants. We make our own routines and don't live by such menial things as rules or law.
Every night at 2.00 I see a man waiting, never late or early, he walks to his seat and sits there for about an hour, then leaves. Not in such a way that it would cause suspicion, he just looks at the moon and smiles, his eyes would glint if he wasn't but a blind man and he would celebrate he wasn't so frail. "Do you have the time?" he would ask every time I passed him and I'd leave an answer in my wake, it was always the same. He was always waiting for something; perhaps he too wanted to see Rapen Creek when heaven opened to him, despite his lack of sight. But in this town you need all you can.
So I tore him to pieces.
To feast upon meat once again is a pleasure I long forgot after our livestock ran from our very house. The blood warmed my spirits and my body, the tender flesh snapped as I ripped in from his limbs.
That morning was a one of the best I've seen in small life. The look on my families faces when I returned with that corpse high above my head; the joy that we would finally be getting a meal was something I hadn't seen for some time. The children would carve into the carcass as my wife and I would set the table, it was a feast to remember.
Now we have nothing to show for it, our house is but white padding, no meat to be seen, just the faint cry of livestock in the distance.
----------
Thanks for reading