During the period of thinking, two dangerous individuals sprang out of two writers' minds.
The first was a boy who wanted to tell stories, he wanted to entertain people with exciting yet strange tales. The second was a man filled to the core with guilt.
Perhaps we should dive into their stories....
A man walked into the park on a fine Sunday morning. It was a usual habit of his, which resulted in him getting to know some of his fellow countrymen a little better.
His usual routine was simple. He would walk around the park for a little before sitting on one of the benches to admire the scenery of a beautiful lake that was situated in the middle of the park. If someone walking past would ask him if he did not have anything better to do with his time, he would smile and tell them that it was a good habit to get a breath of fresh air.
However, when he went to the bench he usually went to on this particular day, he found a boy already there, scribbling something on a notepad. Not wanting to make the boy uncomfortable, he chose to stand away and admire the scenery once again. Over a period of time, he saw a group of children gathered around the boy. "Do you have any stories to tell us Zach?" One boy asked albeit excited. Zach smiled at the boy and without warning, started to recite whatever he had written on the notepad.
There was once a man who loved this park. He loved the scenery this park had to offer. He loved to have a walk around the park before sitting on a bench to admire the beautiful lake. However, there will be a day when he will meet a devastating tragedy, and he will contemplate whether or not to drown himself in the very lake in front of us.
The man was slightly taken aback by the boy's story, considering that the character in Zach's story seemed to resemble him. It's just a character, The man thought, walking way, trying to suppress the chills in his spine.
If it was really just a story, why was he standing at the river bank, deciding whether or not to end it all?
What the boy had told was not a story. It was reality. The man was not sure how he had done what the boy's story told, but then again, he was unsure how his life went wrong in the first place. Do I jump in? The man wondered once again, but still could not find an answer.
As he continued with his dilemma, he suddenly heard a voice behind him. "Hey." When he turned, he realised it was the same boy who told the story. "You didn't hear the ending of my story." The boy deadpanned. He took his notepad out and started to flip to the page. The man held his breath. Could the boy's ending actually determine his fate? Or was the story and what happened to him just a coincidence? He was about to find out now.
The boy took a breath and read, "And the man chose to die."
Louis felt eyes burning into the back of his head, nonstop as he tilled the ground in the field near the only female scarecrow. His little sister was the one who had asked him to help father make ‘a ladycrow’, as she called it, and Louis just couldn’t resist saying yes to her. She was too damn adorable. So he’d built it, but recently, the rain had been dry, so he was worried that crops wouldn’t spring up quickly, which meant poor selling and even poorer things to buy for food for the others to eat. He didn’t care if he didn’t eat, but he cared if the two younger ones and Gramps didn’t. He didn’t care about himself too much at all, really. He continued to till the ground, feeling the dry, stubborn earth resist, crumbling back into the gaps he made with it. Louis straightened up, wiping his brow. What he wouldn’t give for a drink right now…
He stared. A plastic drink bottle filled with crystal-clear water on a plastic plate was on a mound of hay a few steps away. That wasn’t there before... He walked forward, picked the water bottle up, opened the lid, and took a deep swig of it. He felt it going down his throat, ice-cold. Weird… If it was out in the sun, wouldn’t it be hot…? He didn’t care. It was cold water, and whoever had left it here he was thankful for. He finished the water, and then placed it back on the plate. Louis then couldn’t move with what happened next. A drop of water hit his shoulder. Then his head. Then it was pouring. It was raining! In the middle of a drought! Thank goodness for whoever did this, or whatever divine entities were watching.
He turned to grab his hoe, but his hand froze when the damaged, old hoe was gone, and was replaced by a fresh, new iron hoe in its place. He cautiously picked it up, and sent a prayer of thanks to whoever had placed it here, wherever they were. He then continued the very much easier job of tilling the earth, then sowing the corn and wheat seeds. Within an hour, it was done. He breathed a sigh of relief. The family wouldn’t starve. They had food for the time it would take to grow, and when harvest would come, they’d make more money from selling half the harvest, and then keeping the other half. He turned, and froze. There was the ‘Ladycrow’ that his little sister had asked him to build, standing there staring at him. He looked at it, and he felt a bony hand on his shoulder. He froze. The Ladycrow gestured to him. Beckoning him to come closer. He heard the sickening sound of a sharpened weapon thudding through skin and flesh, and hitting wood. Louis could guess what had happened to his family. He teared up. Mimi… Gramps… Max… He did nothing to help… He was a failure…
The Ladycrow stared at him still. But if a scarecrow could look empathetic, it would look like what was on her face now. He moved forward, feeling the bony hand remove itself. He felt the wind of a weapon swinging down, hearing the whistle as it flew through the air, and noticed the Ladycrow pointing towards the right, angled down. Understanding, he rolled to where she was pointing, and suddenly a mound of hay sprung up around him, encasing him. He heard a few swift thumps, then silence. He waited for 10 minutes, when the Ladycrow seemingly released whatever it had done with the hay. He looked up, and saw the Ladycrow walking towards him, blood covering it. He backed away, but it was too late. It grabbed him, and it’s front opened, and pulled him into it. He couldn’t move. He fit inside it like it was a costume. There were no wooden poles that he had used to support it, but bones suddenly grew around his chest like a ribcage. He was this Ladycrow's heart, and it would not let him be harmed.
He never saw the sunlight again.Trivia[]
- Please Tell Us A Story was made by I'llBeYourFriend while The Ladycrow was made by DragonMagician9911.