The post is written in response to a prompt from Genre Scribes: Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #27 — Literature.
The breeze rustled through straw rooftops as it gently buffeted its way through the village.
Adam rose from the table, walked over to the stove and lifted the lid from the bubbling pot. He inhaled deeply then stirred the thick stew, lifting the spoon to his mouth. ‘Aye, that’ll do’, he thought.
He turned to the door, pulling it open to the cool autumn air, looking for their lights at the edge of the forest beyond the grand wall. Hoping they would return soon.
He cast his eye around the nearby houses, knowing that the same scene was playing out inside all of them, fathers and sons tending to their homes, waiting on the mothers and daughters to return.
He can remember a day when he would be the one going past the grand wall, exploring the lands around their homestead.
He can remember the day it all changed and how quickly it happened. They’d spotted a herd wandering nearby, a bounty for such lean times, and were almost ready with their traps when that noise, that horrible noise started…
His reveries are broken. Cries in the distance, coming from the trees beyond the wall.
Doors are flung open, a young boy tries to bolt outside but is hauled back. Adam can sense the fear descending, eyes straining in the gloom, desperate to know what is happening.
There! The first signs of movement in the trees, bushes pushed aside, a rising panic, and again that noise, that terrifying noise chasing towards them.
The screaming starts.
It was happening again.