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Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #2314250
Was created for a contest - forgot what contest it was for, so now just for fun.
         All          Fall Down
         The thick forest surrounding a medium-sized family home, barn, and summer rye fields provided a beautiful view of the Pinanti Mountain Range south of the KooTaki Border. During the sunny days in late spring and summer, children's laughter and songs are heard carried in the wind.
"Ring around the rosy,

Pocket full of posies

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down."

         "Stop that laughing. What did you sing? What was that? Speak quickly! What was that?"
         "Geez, grandma. It was just a nursery rhythm called, 'Ring around the Rosy,' that's all. There weren't any bad words in it. Momma knows we sing it and go around in a circle. She's ok as long we don't bump anything too fast."
         "When staying here, we don't do that. My house, my rules. Understand?
         "Yes, ma'am," Lucy answered.
         Michael asked, "Can we go outside and play in the snow by the barn if we promise not to go into the barn this time? Please?"
         Looking into his eyes to see if she could see if he were telling her a falsehood, "I guess it would be all right for a while. If I see you out of my sight even for a bit, your hinny will feel ten whips of the switch this time, young Michael. The same goes for the rest of you three young'uns." A chorus of promises were heard and given.
         After leaving the warm cottage, the quartet of adventurers went straight toward the largest snow-covered mound in the yard. As they began climbing, they failed to notice an unfamiliar pair of eyes watching them from a distance.
         What strange, curious creatures those are.
         Before the last of them reached the top of the snow hill, the observer was gone as quietly as it arrived.
         As with everything, time passes. Winter snow drifts turned into spring flowers and rainy days inside. They were splashing through puddles, catching water lizards and feeding bugs, or walking barefoot in the wet grass. Soon, their raincoats were disregarded and forgotten. Their grandmother called them back for being outside in the rain without wearing their shoes, socks, or raincoats. She berated each for their disobedience and told them it would be their death. They all laughed because of the wonderful time they had. She bade them to come indoors and finally resorted to bribery of hot cider and warm biscuits.
         The creatures were out during the clear falling. They made loud noises, scaring everyone away. Their matriarch appeared from their hollow-but-not-a-hollow and called them within. After they withdrew, I summoned my get. We retreated to our warren in the deep woods. I wonder if there are more of these creatures.
         "Micheal, you better be careful with using that ax. You know Papa doesn't like anybody using his tools, 'pecially us 'cause we ain't old enough to use 'em right, he says." Ginger says with his tiny fists on her hips, copying Mama's critical glare and stance.
         "Relax, Ging. I am just holding it. I am not going to use it for real. Least not yet. I figure Papa will have me choppin' trees next spring with him, Jimmy, and Gramps. I will be seven, plenty old enough to keep up with the rest of the men."
         "You not men-you Micheal. Who play with us if you are choppin' trees?"
         "You still have Becca and Tiff. They can play with you."
         "They're twins."
         "So. That just means there are two of them."
         "Two is boring. You're funner."
         "How about this? We will fish in the river after the chores are done tomorrow--just me and you. Mama wanted fish for supper so we could catch her some."
         "Just me and you? Promise?"
         "Yes, just me and you. Deal?"
Two Deaths Reported at River's Edge

          The bodies of Michael Dawson, aged 6, and Ginger Dawson, aged 5, from the Dawson Lumbermill and Rye Reserves near the Pinanti Mountain Range south of the KooTaki Border, were found by the Highwater Mountain River docks at approximately 4:30 p.m. by family members after the two children did not return home after being sent on a routine fishing trip to the Highwater Mountain River Tuesday morning. After investigating the site, large, strange footprints were discovered intermingled with the victims. While authorities refuse to speculate, the footprints indicate a chase, with the smaller prints herded into the water while the larger ones followed.
          According to the Grandfather of the children, Earl Dawson, Sr., "This wasn't no accident, and those prints prove it. It was the Bigfoot that killed our youngins. The footprints clearly show it chased our babies into the river, where they drowned. It held them under while they were there."
          "The local sheriff brought in tracking dogs to try and follow where the footprints go when they left the area to determine if a search is possible."
          "Follow-up information will be provided in the next issue of the Quarterly Snipps."

Bigfoot, Thick Forest, River, Snow.
827 Words

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