"The Thing That Stalks The Fields"

Woken by the cool night air on my face, my eight year old eyes adjusted to the darkness of the fields outside my window. The summer heat had forced all who lived in my town to sleep with all windows wide open, in hopes of tempting in a breeze. As my eyes slowly saw through the darkness, they focused on the many bales of hay left to dry in the vast amount of land my family owned. And as I stared into the dark, dark night, a figure appeared to me. It walked with hunched steps through the field, with the dilibrancy of a tip toeing thief. The way it walked was as beautiful and graceful as it was mysterious. If not for the silhouette standing over ten feet tall, I would have thought it almost, frail. The thinness of its arms, reaching almost to the ground, its legs being barely bone, and the caved in quality of its chest reminded me of a starving animal. Still, the thing was undoubtedly strong. It hoisted each bale carefully up into its arms with ease, then gently set them down a while away. It worked as an artist creating an exquisite masterpiece, each bale of hay carefully placed in the exact right position. Every once in awhile, it would straighten up and look at the other bale’s positions in the field, before adjusting the one it was working on ever so slightly. It slowly turned its face to me, and looked. I looked right back, paralyzed with curiosity and fear. Then it turned around. And with the lightest of footsteps, almost glided away. Night after night, the thing would appear, moving the bales of hay farther away from the farm. And every night I would wake up to watch. My family blamed local teenagers trying to pull a prank. I never told them what was really happening. Farther and farther away the thing would move the bales each night, until, at last, they were gone. Sometimes I would stay up through the night, staring at the fields, waiting for it to return. But it never did. To this day, I believe somewhere far away from here, bales of hay are mysteriously moving a little farther each night toward some unknown destination. And I believe just as I remember it, it will remember me, the thing that stalks the fields.

Reviews

[JoeM]

Beautiful story telling, but I was hung up on why the parents didn't go and bring the bales back. Perhaps they did, but the bales were still placed further away during the following night. You have a nice touch with your 'pen'.