The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
The Sowing Season
by Bailey Hunter
Jenna watched the clouds forming on the horizon. Sowing season was almost here and there was still so much to do.
This was the busiest time of the year. The windows needed to be sealed, along with the chimney, and any other cracks or holes that grew in the old farmhouse. Her dad was busy out in the fields prepping the seed, and getting the animals in and safely locked away. Her brothers no longer lived at the farm, but they did come home for this time of year just to help out, especially now with Dad getting on in years, and Mom having passed on a couple years ago now.
Jenna knew that the house and land would end up going. The brothers had made it very clear they didn’t want the hassle. She saw it as a legacy that had been handed down for generations. All her ancestors were buried on this farm dating back to the late 1600s. No way she was going to let it go as long as she was alive.
Jenna yelled out to her brothers who were walking back to the house, “Lucas, Joe, can you please go down to the cellar and get the gifts? Dad is almost done out in the pasture.”
The boys came in, laughing and talking in loud voices as they tromped through the hall down to the cellar. “You get to grab the big one this year,” Joe said.
“Whatever, weaking,” Lucas shot back
A few minutes later, Jenna heard them coming back up, the gifts dragging behind them with a thud on every step. “HEY! Watch it. We don’t need them all busted up before we can give them, and hurry, the rain is almost here. Dad’s on his way back now.”
Jenna watched as Lucas and Joe each dragged their sack to the middle of the field and pulled out the gifts. They seated them on wooden platforms and secured them firmly so they wouldn’t fall off. Jenna had started making a special pie to help keep them sedated, after that time one almost got away.
The men barely made it to the house when the first drops started to fall. Jenna sealed off the front door, and they all gathered in the kitchen to watch.
The skies opened up and the orange rain began to pour down. The gifts woke, their groggy heads lolling back before the acid rains started to peel the skin from their shrieking faces. Below their bodies, the large tubs collected the mix of rain and blood, and sacrificial renderings of their melting bodies. They were big ones. Large enough to fertilize the entire field.
The family gathered around and said a small prayer giving thanks for the gifts they were able to offer to the Gods and to request for a bountiful crop.
Fiction © Copyright Bailey Hunter
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
More about Bailey Hunter:
Bailey is a publisher with Dark Recesses Press.
Dark Recesses Press is a publishing house dedicated to providing high quality dark fiction in its many forms to the reader. Our end goal is to impress and entertain, no matter what dark recesses we dare shine our light on.