Another Friday, another picture prompt.
The burr of the machinery keeps them at bay. Something about the infra-sound or timbre or what have you, that’s not my line of expertise. You can talk to Garrett the scientist about the details, all I know is that come every fall when the first leaf turns a scant orange. When that happens we harvest.
You’ve probably never seen then, heck I’d never seen one. Only seen their eyes, their eyes as orange as the sunset that awakens them every evening. They look like glowing slivers of sunlight as it passes through the forest, but you can tell them apart from those beams of light. The creatures’ eyes glow with the infernal fires of hell, a fire only found in the depths where Satan resides. You’ll know it when you see their eyes when you lock with them and have the unnerving sense of dread and helplessness. Makes you want to cry to your mama but you know that by the time you’ll reach her she’ll already be gone. Folks say the creatures look like ten-foot tall bipedal beasts, with long arms and clawed feet. Their heads are like a deer’s skull, bleach white and rotten where the eyes sit in their abyss of an eye socket.
It’s my duty to run the machinery in our little safe haven, scare them away. Which is why I only harvest at night, might as well put the tractors to use and make a little dough while I’m at it.