The silly young boy all alone in his bed decided to get up and go his mother went out for some delicious trout if he went anywhere, she wouldn't know. It was late at night, the stars were bare laid out far as one could see He opened the door to the shabby and poor village surrounded by trees. He strode along the damp dirt path that led to the house of his friend he planned this meeting on a random and fleeting idea in which he would tend. The boy always resented this walk through the night as his imagination went wild shadows of pines and clinging vines became monsters not tame nor mild. A chill breeze blew through the boy's soft hair as he walked in the pitch black of night a snap of a branch as he neared an old ranch caused the boy to jump with fright. The boy stopped moving, petrified from fear as he waited for death to arrive the snap of the twig had been a startled pig that ran from the boy, still alive. Relief spread throughout the boy's frail heart as the tendrils of fear lost their grip the boy walked on and began a song to liven up his dark trip. One being in the forest heard his singing and crept closer for further review The boy was alone like a widowed crone and perfectly within its view. The boy was singing, "What joy, what wonder! These days filled with pleasure and daint! The townsfolk dance in their marvelous pants and nobody would tire to faint! The festival which nobody omits is alive with people a-dancin'! The music blares out and the people shout in joy as they go a-prancin'." The being figured this boy would not do and decided to have some fun it began to chant a horrible rant that would make the boy's heart run. The being sang, "What joy, what wonder! This night filled with screams of death. The townsfolk lay dead with worms in their head their shouts using their last breath." The boy hadn't expected this horrid duet that mocked his lively tune he started to flee but could not see even with the light of the moon. "The festival which nobody omits is littered with bodies a-squirming! The music has died and the children cried for their brains were fully a-worming!" The boy tripped on a root he never saw and fell to the ground with a thud he felt dry hands like the desert sands smearing his face in the mud. The boy couldn't breathe as he inhaled the muck and tried to struggle in vain the hand pressed firm as the boy tried to squirm but he couldn't handle the pain. The being grew joyful as the boy grew still for it knew it could now begin the feast it began to dine on the small boy's spine and wasted not in the least. The morning after, the boy returned to his mother, worried and scared she hugged and tried not to scold or cry as the boy's story was shared. The being waited until that night pretending to be the boy the mother was asleep and the being could not keep its eyes from glittering with joy. At the end of the week, some travelers arrived intending to buy some supplies they looked around without a sound at the village that met its demise. |