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Rated: E · Other · Occult · #1748903
In the lush grounds of a manor house a never-ending fued has it's latest battle
“Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.” - Charles Dickens


         
         The first ray of dawn slunk over the horizon flying straight and true until suddenly, fracturing its united white shattering to a dazzle of colour, it struck the moisture of a single drop of dew hanging from a startling green leaf. The droplet of moisture, spotting it's moment to shine, hung glistening for just a second longer than the universe anticipated before tumbling away. This move was over all considered something of  good move and reviewed well. The droplet now fell towards the ground in way that would be wonderfully impressive... but the droplet itself had mainly handed over to gravity at this stage and therefore cannot be heavily praised for this. It splashed on to the shoulder of an elderly man, who didn't care.

         Despite his old age, obviously read on the crags of his face, he face was encircled in a mane of blazing golden hair. He was a tall and muscular man with ruddy cheeks the kind of man who radiated an joyous exuberance. He pulled of his waistcoat, leaving him clad in a loose shirt tight black trousers and leather boots. He flung the waist coat to and stared from beneath the shadow of the large oak tree with eyes of raging fire. Another man stood next to him holding a flint lock pistol he was somewhat younger with short deep green hair which shot out in all directions like freshly sprouted grass beneath which rested eyes that conveyed a supreme keenness as though to suggest a wisdom beyond his years. This was coupled with the natural swagger and dashing stance of a pirate captain. He was still wearing both his waistcoat and his frock coat and held in his hand a fine wooden cane.

         “Now listen Sum, the thing about 'Tumn is that he wants this more than you. Remember how close he was with Winnie” He said in clipped tones.

         “I have the fairly strong motivator of not wanting to die Spring. Anyway I seem to recall someone else shooting Winnie.” He responded curtly.

         “Yes and if 'Tumn had a legitimate quarrel with me then you'd be standing next to me trying to talk me through this” Spring responded

         “Well your doing a poor job.” Summer quipped

         “Look because he wants it more he'll fire quicker, if try to twist your body out his line you might get away with a graze and be able to shoot back at your leisure.” Spring replied “Ah here's our man now” He flicked his cane towards the large manor house standing some way away.

         The house was a perfect vision of country splendour with the sizeable stables in full view from this part of the grounds. Between the house the oak tree were the two gentlemen were standing strode a hulk of a man with hair of a thousand shades of red, and brown, and yellow. He wore a brown coat with brown leggings and shoes, his necking was of a shiny red colour mirrored by the clouds above which soaked up the dawns early light like sponge in blood. Behind was scampering a boy who couldn't have been more than fourteen clad entirely in blue with ice white hair and pale skin.

         “Who's the boy” Summer asked his companion.

         “Winnie's son.” Spring replied shortly.

         Summer responded with silence as the two opposing gentleman arrived and set opposite them. In a second Autumn had stripped to his shirt and had taken the pistol from the eager hands of his young ward. He glowered as he strode purposely towards his foe. Summer moved to meet him. Both of their companions followed in their wakes.          For all four of them the short walk to the middle ground was the longest walk of their lives each and everyone of them bearing the weight of impending doom with them as they travelled.

         The four of them met in silence, Spring shifted awkwardly under the gaze of malevolence that the young boy was maintaining with fearful intensity. Summer on the other hand was casual to the point of nonchalance as he stared into the sneering face of his enemy.

         “Last chance Summer, give me satisfaction and you can walk away.” Autumn stated while his eyes blazed with visions of imminent death.

         “Well I would, but I've already been out here for an hour or so waiting for you.” Summer responded with a wry smile.

         Without any further ado they turned back to back and strode the customary ten paces apart, while there companions remained watchful in the centre. After ten paces the two men halted. The two referees both moved hastily back from the line of fire.

         “Fire” Spring shouted.

         In a whirling instant two shots were fired almost simultaneously, sounding a thunderous crack across the landscape. A murder of crows nestling in the oak tree took flight there black bodies providing a shocking contrast to the now blue sky, at the same time blood splashed across the crisp grass almost a perfect mirror to the specks the crows had become. Summer stood staring at his foe arm still extended gripping the pistol. Autumns arm dropped to his side as Summer's hand began to shake. Summers pistol fell with a thud. He placed his hand to his chest and brought it up to his face to a violent burst of crimson. As he fell to his knees Spring rushed forward to grab him.

         “Look after my sun.” Summer said in a crackling voice as the fire in his eyes began to fade. Almost at once a cruel breeze hit Spring causing the hot tears on his face to turn to near ice. He looked up at the retreating figure of Autumn and the boy as the leaves began to fade from green to brown.


“Everyone dies, not everyone lives” Unknown


© Copyright 2011 Edward Manley (eddie.zdi at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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