As humanity gazes upon the stars, giant burning spheres of gases floating in the cold vast emptiness of the cosmos, they ponder their existence in the universe and the exact origin from which they came from. The birth of...intelligence, consciousnes...
It's a freezing night. Tim Barringen is sitting in his crooked wooden chair, a cold beer in his left hand as he watches his cornfield from the front porch. In his right hand lies a gun - a shotgun given to him by his own father. Tim gripped the upper half of the gun tightly with the bottom half lying on the floor making it stand up vertically. Tim is a troubled man, a frightened man, but most importantly he is a lonely man. He doesn't have friends since people would not dare to talk to him due to obvious reasons. The few people who do so do it out of necessities.
He takes a quick swig of the beer, drops the bottle on to the floor and walks into the cornfield with his shotgun. Hensenville isn't a particularly loud town. Most people go to bed at 8 and the town goes dead quiet around 9. However, tonight's different. Something is different. The silence tonight is almost....uncomfortable. Something has changed in Hensenville and Tim Barringen is going to find out why. Little does he know, he will find out the answer, but he won't understand it, nor will he live to tell others about it.
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Margaret Pine observes carefully as she watches Tim Barringen walking into his cornfield with a shotgun from the kitchen window. She never really understood the man, but now she's confused as well as frightened. She parts the curtain open slightly and peeks through the small slit. As Tim disappears into the thick stalks, Margaret continues to wait. Why is she waiting? What is she waiting for? She doesn't know either. Maybe, it's just because she's a curious person, or maybe she too knows that something is terribly wrong tonight and is waiting to see what the feeling will amount to. Who knows? Maybe something significant will happen tonight... like a murder, and Margaret can get involved in something for once. While Margaret is deep in her thoughts, a shotgun blast pierced through the cold silent night. She hurriedly gets out of her chair and throws herself onto the floor expecting the crazy old man to blast through her window. Another blast erupted through the night and then...silent. There is no hole in the wall and Margaret's window is still intact. She lies on the floor in a fetus position shaking uncontrollably and sweating bullets. She knows that something horrible has happened to Tim Barringen. She also knows that he is now dead. As she continues to lay on the cold, hard wooden floor, she notices something changing. Is it the fear going away? Is something burning in the house? No....it's more subtle. She can now hear the sound of the crickets chirping.
