Red Harvest - Chapter One

[Necrophia]

RED HARVEST - Chapter One

 

This isn't a Yugioh Fanfic. I don't know if it's supposed to be, but I prefer writing in my own scheme.

 

It was October. Autumn had fallen in as quickly as its deciduation. The array of various colors was dimly picturesque; the scenery was parallel with the fall atmosphere, so the combination was impressively glamorous. Everything seemed to be set up by Nature for the annual Pumpkin Festival. The gold-rimmed leaves on the mahogany-barked maples and oaks, the twilit sky blotched with ethereal wisps of pink clouds, and the over-looming harvest moon. The musty warmth of Autumn claimed the hearts of all who adored it. Ephemeral though it was, the festival was a delight to say the least – a hearty introduction to Halloween and all its garishly over-glittered decorations.

 

The harvest moon had kept its end of upholding the oh-so hallow tradition by continuously showing up on this day each year. It was actually somewhat horrifying, in a sense. Whether or not it was a sign of the inevitably approaching global warming (a load of bull), it’s grand orange aura was still radiantly emitted for the festival lot to splurge. What a powerful glow it had, always strikingly eerie, as it appeared to be shining with an arrogant rage. It was as if, at any moment, it was going to explode. Of course, space and its components were not the object of the celebration, rather it was the similar yet garden-groomed pumpkin – jack-o-lantern. They were cut, carved and candled, some cute, some funny, and some outright frightening (only to the children, of course). They glimmered like the moon, but strained to match it with minuscule flames on wickered wax candles. But what better than a candle to celebrate the holiday for patching and picking a pumpkin, eventually to be wasted as a minor and short-lived decoration. The same applies to Christmas and the hunt for large and beautiful conifers to be chopped and left rotting in some fanatic’s over-decorated window. Holidays were enjoyable events, but they were undoubtedly destructive. Nothing gives pumpkins more reason to glare, scour, or burn. Nonetheless, Nature seemed to be handling it quite well, and the festival itself was very spirited. It was truly an event to remember.

 

Eventually night fell. The sable curtains of time elapsed and coated the sky, allowing the moon to further promote its contribution to the atmosphere. Not a star was flashing, not even Polaris as the cynosure of the night-sky. The clouds reigned in a monarchy of dark condensation. Some claimed the ground, permeating a soundless breath mist - better known as fog - to disdain a murk-less earth. Chemistry fluently ran between Nature and the night, patrolling with a crepuscular sight, all that dared indulge in its exclusive affection. Of course, Nature, in all its convulsive properties, kept this night calm, tranquil, and free of possible nocturnal nightmares. However, this night was not so well watched. The eyes of nature missed one creature – an animal – winged and feathered; an aerial cretin of the night. An owl, per say, although it had unusual and grotesque physical qualities. Unlike a common owl, with it’s ever-constant hoots and night-time jeers, this fowl created now particular noise. It lurched by itself on an arched branch, dead and decayed by Nature in its wickedness. It peered through the season-burnt leaves and with a stare as bright as corona, it spotted its prey with a hunter’s vision. It didn’t move, it never budged – even the wind scraped by it with no charm in its whistle. It never blinked, its pupils never fell off center or rotated from its target. Its talons, sharp and wildly jagged, remained clawed, with a force, to the decaying bark of the branch. There was no expression on its face, only that of a predator when it founds its meal.

 

In a gruesome manner of affairs, the bird had begun to gag on something it had previously eaten. It coughed up a slimy red saliva – blood – probably from a mouse, or a rat, or some member of the raccoon family. When the gagging stopped, it regained its original poise and composure. It continued to analyze each movement of its prey. It waited for a moment – the right moment. Suddenly, its pupils dilated and grew larger and darker, consuming the rest of its eyes. It saw the movement – just right. It unlocked its wings to reveal its span, which was, now that it was visible, unusually lengthy. It began to flap – slowly – quicker – quickly – rapidly. With a force in its thrust, it separated itself from the branch and set off to follow its prey. Soon it was lost among the trees and fog, only leaving behind some traces of blood and feathers. Then, it was gone.

 

The rest of the night was clean and the murk had dissipated with the temporary peril. It seemed as though, finally, all was as it should be, or should have been, except for one thing. The grand harvest moon remained in the sky. It was still glowing, even more brightly than earlier. Orange and angry, no creatures enjoyed basking in its furious light. Everything just wanted it gone. Perhaps, by tomorrow, that should happen – if only.

[Necrophia]

Oh, I forgot. No matter how good my writing is, it's illegible unless it's imitating anime-style.

[screamoscreams]

i liked it quite a bit although nothing really happened.

The descriptions are pretty wicked.

Hurry up and write chapter 2 please!

And make some more stuff happen

This could be an awesome fan fic i think