'i the smooth transparent, late-night air. The moon shunned upon the farmland, 'twere the only light source 'i sight. The moon was a pale white with a tint of blue, its light falling onto a bawbling clearing 'i the field where only a lone being stood. The being was a tall figure, dressed 'i a plaid doublet, and a leather cowboy hat. The scarecrow was bright, thou could see it from the barn. Arron, the rancher of Lonbridge, is known for the stories of people randomly found with their limbs cut off, a clean smooth cut...
"ah!" Arron abruptly woke up from his bawbling, lumpy, straw bed with hold, but for a thin, worn-out 'white' pillow and a thin unsinew'd blanket. His whiskey eyes ope 'i a flash. "what the cotton picking was that?" Arron quoth wobbly, shaking as a whiny dog. Wondering would he should'st hie check what that shrill was. Traumatized for life he remembered that his little sister Fflur likes to stray around the farm around midnight when the clear moon is out. As anon as Arron's eyes fluttered ope, he sprang out of his comfy straw bed and dashed towards the door. Without wasting a single instant, he burst without.
"Fflur!" Arron quoth once "Fflure!" he quoth again.
He knocked down a stoup with vase of fritillarias with the shade of dark purple at the leaves to pink at the tip of the flower. Arron hurried out of the barn shouting for his sister again and again. Arron looked through the fields of corn for his little sister, going left, right, forwards, and backward he couldn't find her. Arron searched for Fflur, for what left like hours. He known a young scream of what seemed as a female.
"Fflure! is that you" he qouth.
Wherein he got to the scarecrow, Arron found his sister. Her pate was replaced with the scarecrow, her long honey-brown hair flowing with the wind. Her cornflower blue eyes dupp'd wide and lifeless. Her pate was bloody, blood flowing through her neck and mouth. Arron, lost of breath fell to his ham looking up towards his sister crying.
"Oh, blimey!" Arron quoth. "Those bloody tossers!" The sound of thunder boomed through the night welken. The wind picked up and whipped around him mercilessly 'i that field. A sudden chill crept down his spine. Was that the wind or the cold dead fingers from his sister...
"Fflur?" he whispered. He apace picked himself up from the ground looking around. All that's left towards the ground was the straw hat that fisted her. Could Fflur be somewhere else? her mitely little corporal agent , she's mitely. He scanned the area for her yet saw nought. Something was off
The smell of blood and guts was potent, and the atmosphere was thick. Arron was trembling as a leaf. Withal the smell of blood was the smell of perpetual wink. Arron could not fathom what befell to his sister. He didst not expect perpetual wink to be lurking 'round his home, 't were impossible.
A sound was known 'i that field that caused his heart to forbear. Something he would remember and regret the rest of his life. A sound he would hark over and over agan when he tried to sleep...
The lullaby his sweet corky mother would sing to him and Fflure as children until a pack of wolves attacked her. Torn to pieces, blood everywhere, one limb is gone then the other. The lullaby bid pais dinogad. The one he shall aye remember.
Slcc. That one sound thump, thump, thump. His pate rolled against the dirt, hay, and rocks. Arron saw a scythe. A mirr'd silver metal is now stained 'i a red liquid. He saw his sister pate still towards the scarecrow blood dripping upon him.
A scythe shining 'i the moonlight. The scythe that killed him and most like his sister, Fflur. Arron saw a black skinny, unsinew'd figure bearing the scythe. It had the pure white eyes of an angel. 'I'm 'i heaven' he thought 'Why'd they dispatch me and mine sister?' Arron softly closed his eyes as the figure got closer...
