Hey folks! It’s October 1st! Know what that means? It’s HALLOWEEN! So welcome aboard, come sit for a spell, hopefully you might get a bit of a chill! To kick off the Holiday season, I give to you the start of a new serial story that will run here on Cinema Fromage, “Long Harvest”. Sometimes ancient evils lurk under the light of the Harvest Moon, so uh…you better watch out.
Give it a read, be sure to let me know what you think in the comments! Check back regularly for the next chapters as the tale unfolds!
The orange light of the harvest moon cascaded over parched skin, creaking sounds escaping as a roiling shadow flexed long dormant wings. Arms spread wide, stretching out cramped muscles stiffened with prolonged sleep, a creature stood slowly. The relief of movement filled it from within as it turned to gaze upwards, a moan escaped along with the protesting muscles.
“Harvest…” it whispered, a long forked tongue snaked forth to moisten lips long past chapped. “Hungry. Tired of waiting.” Its voice rasped with long disuse like sand in a stiff wind. The harvest moon gazed down upon it, patient eyes watching a waking creature.
It rose to full height, leathery wings unfolding to full span. Claw tipped joints curled forward over its head making the figure loom several feet over all that would face it. Talon tipped fists clenched with caution working out their stiffness, cloven feet rose one after the other growing accustomed to the act of standing once again. Small black eyes that shone as motes of further darkness in the night glinted under the orange moon. It turned and scanned the corn field that rose around it.
“What is thisss…” it hissed. Squinting into the dark, the creature puzzled at a distant gleam of light that rose above the field. Confusion set in across its brow, its nose sniffed gently in the direction of the glow as it tried to discern the source.
With a sudden burst of speed that belied its tentative awakening, the creature spun on unstable legs to pierce the low flung moon above. “What is this?” it asked the moon, “The area was devoid of life when last I lay down to slumber.”
The subtle face of the man of the moon stared back, patient and knowing.
“How long have I slept this time?” The beast broke its gaze, the faint sent of blood and flesh that hid in distant lights demanding its attention. “The hunger eats at me, weakens, grumbles.” The beast fidgeted nervously as it stared into the glow.
Its snout snuffled the air once again joined by a long tongue that tasted the air before it, licking dry lips. “Yesss…” came the hiss once more. “Food is near, I smells it. I do. Blood, gristle…hints of more.”
A tentative step towards the lights, its cloven hoof shook with weakness. Cramped wings shook as the weakness proved too strong for flight. The first step was followed with a second, then a third, each stronger than the first. “Those lightsss, is that where my harvest lie?”
The moon stared on patiently, ever quiet, ever knowing.
The beast continued to ignore the moon as the lights soon gave life to silhouetted houses.
“I am hungry, you shall not dissuade me.” Gaining confidence and strength as it moved on, the tentative steps soon turned to a quick gait. The smell of food drew the beast on, giving power to a weakened body. “Tis harvest time, so you said. Macreedy the Ancient will have his share. You harsh mistress, you shall have no say this time!”
The creature turned back to stare at the moon as it approached the first house of Naughton Hills sub division. It bared yellowed fangs as a low growl of defiance issued forth. “Nay, this shall be my day!”
The creature crouched low as it stalked behind the fence facing the corn field, its nose working heavily as the hunt began. With alarming speed it leapt over the barrier before it, landing low. Snout sniffed as it crept forward, wings pulling in tight and close. Prey was close by, the strike was prepared.
A small dog began to bark, its territory intruded upon by a shape it neither recognized nor understood. Claws flashed in the looming darkness, the barks cut off with a yelp. Teeth gnashed, fangs ripped, blood flowed, the sounds of smacking lips rose above the grunts of animalistic gorging.
Life ran through ancient veins as the blood trickled down over Macreedy the Ancients tongue. His eyes clenched tight as the feeling poured through him, ecstasy and strength returning to his frame. His wings grew limber, joints creaked less, his skin began to take on a dark green hue like ancient moss upon and gnarled log.
“More,” he sighed, relief evident in his voice. “Must find more, Macreedy grows strong! My rule soon shall come!”
Lights snapped on in a high window at Macreedy’s outburst, some faceless dweller startled awake. The sounds of frantic struggle drifted down to the creatures ears as the humans within fought to discover what they heard.
Vowing to return once his strength returned, manic laughter echoed through out the empty yards as he bounded back across the fence. Macreedy the Ancient quickly disappeared into the shadows, the mangled carcass of a Jack Russel Terrier being the only evidence of his presence.
Inside the now bright house, two pairs of eyes peaked over the windowsill into the light of the harvest moon. They gazed across the corn field, gazes flitting from right to left looking for the source of their rude awakening.
“What in the hell was that?” Sam Kimbro asked his wife who crouched beside him.
“Beats the shit out of me,” Kelly answered, “But I swear to god it said it was going to come back.”