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Description
It was a mellowed sound, the kind you’d hear by pressing your head against glass on a windy night, a buzz so close yet so far, the indication of machinery grinding on flesh. The grass would sway, the skies were bright from the setting sun, orange cutting through the horizon. The night was young yet cold, breath visible with even the slightest ounce of life. Nothing in those fields were breathing, at least in the traditional sense that we think that word means. It was tall, towering even above the stalks, it’s stature to rival the tallest of apple trees and widest of corn mazes. Through the brush, it’s eyes would illuminate, it’s presence beyond from which anybody could rationalize., the scent of death always pungent, the light it emerged from burning the crops, bringing death in which it embodied.

Description
It was a mellowed sound, the kind you’d hear by pressing your head against glass on a windy night, a buzz so close yet so far, the indication of machinery grinding on flesh. The grass would sway, the skies were bright from the setting sun, orange cutting through the horizon. The night was young yet cold, breath visible with even the slightest ounce of life. Nothing in those fields were breathing, at least in the traditional sense that we think that word means. It was tall, towering even above the stalks, it’s stature to rival the tallest of apple trees and widest of corn mazes. Through the brush, it’s eyes would illuminate, it’s presence beyond from which anybody could rationalize., the scent of death always pungent, the light it emerged from burning the crops, bringing death in which it embodied.