Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: Story must be contain a tulip, jump rope and rake
Plentiful Harvest
The large black sedan coasted silently down the maple-lined neighborhood street. Anton observed the scene from the back seat; drawing it all in as if taking a deep mental breath. Nothing missed his gaze. Darkened windows gave a night-like quality to the view. It was perfect.
Young children played jump rope in a large driveway. Completely absorbed in the chanting rhyme of the game, they didn’t notice the car so out of place in their little corner of the world. Old man Winston was a different matter. The chill hit him while the car was still half a block away. He leaned against the rake he had been using to clean up his prize tulip garden and stared at the car as it slipped by.
Anton sent an unseen smile to the old man. You will be the first to go, he thought. It was best to deal with the “sensitives” quickly; that done, he could take the rest at his leisure.
Hunger consumed Anton for it was the start of a new cycle and therefore had been a long time since the last harvest. His eleven year sleep had only recently ended. He was very hungry indeed, licking his lips as he passed a couple of joggers.
The sedan continued out of town on the same road it had come in on. Eighty miles away in an old warehouse, others, still sleeping waited impatiently. They played amongst intermingled dreams waiting for Anton to return and announce the start of a new cycle. They knew he would not let them down. He never did.
Anton, Harvest Master for more than eight-hundred years, smiled at the thought of the wakeful reunion to come. He knew he had chosen well. The town was perfect; quiet and isolated.
The harvest would be plentiful.
The prompts: Story must be contain a tulip, jump rope and rake
Plentiful Harvest
The large black sedan coasted silently down the maple-lined neighborhood street. Anton observed the scene from the back seat; drawing it all in as if taking a deep mental breath. Nothing missed his gaze. Darkened windows gave a night-like quality to the view. It was perfect.
Young children played jump rope in a large driveway. Completely absorbed in the chanting rhyme of the game, they didn’t notice the car so out of place in their little corner of the world. Old man Winston was a different matter. The chill hit him while the car was still half a block away. He leaned against the rake he had been using to clean up his prize tulip garden and stared at the car as it slipped by.
Anton sent an unseen smile to the old man. You will be the first to go, he thought. It was best to deal with the “sensitives” quickly; that done, he could take the rest at his leisure.
Hunger consumed Anton for it was the start of a new cycle and therefore had been a long time since the last harvest. His eleven year sleep had only recently ended. He was very hungry indeed, licking his lips as he passed a couple of joggers.
The sedan continued out of town on the same road it had come in on. Eighty miles away in an old warehouse, others, still sleeping waited impatiently. They played amongst intermingled dreams waiting for Anton to return and announce the start of a new cycle. They knew he would not let them down. He never did.
Anton, Harvest Master for more than eight-hundred years, smiled at the thought of the wakeful reunion to come. He knew he had chosen well. The town was perfect; quiet and isolated.
The harvest would be plentiful.
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