short stories

Caretos

The group of masked men ran down the narrow street screaming, swearing and scaring the small children, here and there grabbing the young girls, spinning them around. Their belt of cow bells rang loud letting everyone know they were coming. With every step their outfit made of thousands of colorful threads of wool moved like the wavy sea. After the last street of the village had been properly scared out of lurking demons the men walked to the tavern, bragging about their earlier performance. The men had a glass of red whine and the younger boys a glass of juice, this was a special day after all.

One of the men asked: Who was the tall guy that was in the front of the group? '

' Not sure! ' an older man replied. ' I saw him leave towards the road that leads outside of the village, so he's probably not from here. '

In the nearby meadow the tall man undressed, a smile in his face. He let the colorful woolen clothes on the floor, put on his black, long, hooded cloak, grabbed his scythe and disappeared.