Jan 26, 2024 2:36 am
The group makes their way out of Blackwater Creek heading east, the sun hanging low in the sky elongating their shadows on the road. In a short while, the mobsters find a dirt track departing to the north which they take. As they walk down the corn hemmed path, they are amazed at how tall the corn is. At parts it stands nearly twelve feet tall and hangs over laden with bulbous gargantuan ears of corn.
The hum of insects is electric, the constant tick-tick bzzzzzz ringing in everyone's ears. After walking a quarter mile or so through the looming stands of corn, a path opens to the right while the path continues forward. The group takes the right path to the Jarvey farm as the sun passes out of sight beyond the forest and corn to the west. As they walk the path, the corn gives way to a wheat field that spans an acre or two.
Coming out of the wheat, the party enters into a farmyard that is bordered by several buildings. A woman sits in a rocking chair on the farmhouse porch across the way, smoking a pipe. The dimming light prevents seeing her clearly. When she spots the party she calls back through the window. Malcom! We've guests a come calling. A man quickly comes into view, backlit by the lamps of the farmhouse clearly holding a shotgun. He glances at the group and then, almost sheepishly, quickly stows the shotgun behind the door and comes out onto the porch, leaning on the railing. His bright smile can be seen in the dim light as he calls. Ho there, friends. How can we be helpin you?
The hum of insects is electric, the constant tick-tick bzzzzzz ringing in everyone's ears. After walking a quarter mile or so through the looming stands of corn, a path opens to the right while the path continues forward. The group takes the right path to the Jarvey farm as the sun passes out of sight beyond the forest and corn to the west. As they walk the path, the corn gives way to a wheat field that spans an acre or two.
Coming out of the wheat, the party enters into a farmyard that is bordered by several buildings. A woman sits in a rocking chair on the farmhouse porch across the way, smoking a pipe. The dimming light prevents seeing her clearly. When she spots the party she calls back through the window. Malcom! We've guests a come calling. A man quickly comes into view, backlit by the lamps of the farmhouse clearly holding a shotgun. He glances at the group and then, almost sheepishly, quickly stows the shotgun behind the door and comes out onto the porch, leaning on the railing. His bright smile can be seen in the dim light as he calls. Ho there, friends. How can we be helpin you?
