The harvest

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

 

The harvest

 
Butch looked at the vast corn fields spread out in front of him and his heart lifted. As far as the eye could see it was a sea of lush gold. A slight breeze was fanning the ears of the corn stalks and they seemed to beckon him.

 
The Sun had decided to call it a day and was preparing to retire .The sky blushed wearing the warm red and mellow orange coat. Time to pack up, thought Butch.

 
Whistling under his breath, he swung onto his truck and drove to his farm. This year, it was going to be a good harvest and he was pleased. He shed his work clothes, put them into the laundry basket and entered the shower. He was a man of meticulously clean habits.

 
Butch lived alone with only an occasional visitor. He neither entertained, nor attended any local social parties. The small community was used to his strange ways and left him to his devices. He was an excellent farmer and had the best livestock .The many awards adorning his living room was proof enough of that and the locals respected his need for privacy.

 
Dinner over, Butch decided to go check his most prized stock in the barn. The stack of gold in there brought a smile to his lips. He needed to add a few more this season. Picking up the scythe, the gloves and a small bag, he made for the darkening corn fields. As he walked through the corn stalks, they whispered to him,”Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty!”

 
Butch nodded and bent down to drag something from between the stalks. A golden haired young girl , bound and gagged, looking terrified, pleaded silently to be let loose. Butch lifted her to a sitting position and touched her hair reverently. He inhaled the fragrance of her glorious golden curls. It still smelled of the shampoo he had used last night. He took out a brush from his pocket and started combing her hair. All the while, he kept humming .The girl, unable to take it anymore had fainted.

 
This displeased Butch and he shook her like a rag doll, yanking at her hair, snarling at her lack of response. Then, releasing her, he fumbled in his bag and brought out a bottle of water, a pair of scissors and a jeweled mirror.

 
Sprinkling some water on the girl’s face, Butch revived her and then thrust the mirror into her tied hands. Gesturing her to look into the mirror, he expertly sheared off all her hair. As she watched in horror, he took out the scythe and with one sharp sweep chopped off her head. As the head rolled and blood pooled at the roots of the plants, he set to work, clearing the field of all evidence of his “ritualistic orgy”.

 
He had a lot to do before the Sun came up. He was happy to have this bounty of tonight’s harvest to add to his stock in the barn.

 

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The above story was written for Write on Edge,writing prompt,2014,week 12. The challenge was to write a piece of fiction or poetry in 500 words or less(mine is 500 words,including the title)based on either the photo above (I decided to pick the photo)or use the quote ,”Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.” by J. R. R. Tolkien ,or use both.For more details or to participate please click  on this http://writeonedge.com/2014/03/writing-prompt-2014-week-12/

 

A touch of colour

Friday Fictioneers

It is Wednesday everywhere,except for FF lovers who enjoy their Friday fare starting on Wednesday.Confused?Don’t be.Hop over to our  beautifully talented host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields page  (http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/) and check out for yourself how over 100 talented writers from all over the world ,flock  to this contest and spin amazing tales of 100 words or so woven around the given photo prompt.Read,enjoy and join the fun:-)

 

This week’s photo prompt( below), has been provided by Danny Bowman and really made me scratch my head.Finally I came up with my 100 words,which follows just after the photo.Hope you all find it enjoyable 😉

 

Copyright - Danny Bowman

                                        Copyright – Danny Bowman

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A touch of colour

 

Stan gazed at the landscape on display.

His critical eye was not pleased.

It lacks boldness, he decided.

A dab of red would make it perfect, he mused.

An art lover, he always carried brushes, but where to get some red paint from?

He scanned the art gallery but it being late, no one was around.

Then Stan saw him.

He beamed.

The guard was immersed in a racy thriller, an empty mug at his feet.

Stan slashed the guard’s throat.

Holding the brush, he looked appreciatively at the red hot lava spilling from the volcano.

Image

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Forever…always

Trifextra: Week Ninety-Seven

It is Friday and thus time for Trifextra:-)

This weekend we are being asked to add thirty of our own words to the following three words for a total of thirty-three. 

myopic
dazzle  
basin
 
 
Here are my 33 🙂
 
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Forever…always

 

Your honeyed lies dazzle me. Am too myopic to see the veil of deception. The sword of reality cuts deep. I bleed tears. You leave. The acid of betrayal spills, turning the basin red.

 
Image
 
   
 
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The outcast

Trifecta: Week Seventy-Six

 

This week’s word is blood.

BLOOD (noun)

1
(1) : the fluid that circulates in the heart, arteries, capillaries, and veins of a vertebrate animal carrying nourishment and oxygen to and bringing away waste products from all parts of the body (2) : a comparable fluid of an invertebrate

 

b : a fluid resembling blood

2
: the shedding of blood; also : the taking of life
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words. 
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post. 
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response. 
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 
  • Only one entry per writer. 

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The Outcast

 

He ran swiftly and silently through the dense forest.Familiar scent assailed his nostrils.His head filled with memories.His forehead furrowed, eyes widened, wild, and angry and he felt his lips curling over  his teeth ,almost in a fierce snarl!

 

 

No,he must move forward or else fall prey to them.

 

 

 

He could hear them baying for his blood!And to think many were his own blood!

 

 

 

Even Kyra!How could she have turned on him and for them!

 

 

 

Traitors!All of them!

 

 

 

But he was not going to give up so easily.He had grown up here and knew every vine,every leaf,every tree,every rock,every stream-the Jungle was his friend.

 

 

 

Running over hidden  burrows,leaping over twisted roots,wading through trickling streams,he ran ,with a purpose.

 

 

 

 

 

Dark tree trunks, clumps of bushes, barely visible black trails snaking through the undergrowth appeared shadowy like mysterious beings.There was no  moon shining  but a cloudy patchy sky could be seen in glimpses through tree breaks.But he had no time or the heart to look at these –his goal was near.He had to reach it before dawn arrived.He increased his pace.

 

 

 

He could smell the water-saturated air, rich earth ,the sweet flowers perfuming the air and moss before he saw the beautiful cascading water droplets pattering against rock-his haven!He was glad that he had never revealed this secret cave beyond the waterfall to anyone-now it would be his succour!

 

 

 

But he had to work fast.Just a little off the waterfall ,lay the rotting swamp,infested with crocodiles .He ran carefully around the edge,rolling on the ground-his scent leaving an unmistakable tell-tale trail for the hunters.Then he quickly leapt through the air into the roaring waterfall and disappeared onto the other side-without a trace.

 

 

 

 

 

He knew well what would happen as they ran mindlessly, blinded with hate,following his spoor-right into the swamp to become a meal for the ever hungry crocodiles!

 

 

 

Not for nothing was he White Fang,the Alpha male of his pack!

 

 

 

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