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Rated: E · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2015899
A good harvest means the difference between living and dying
Joe Franklin Jr. stared with pride at the bounty he'd reaped. This was the best harvest he could've hoped for, the money he'd earn selling it would easily get him through the winter. His latest shipment was fresh and ready to go to market.

"Franklin and Sons," was a respected family business and had a long history in the small farming town. He inherited the business when his father passed away. He struggled to keep it afloat, but it soon became clear he wasn't the businessman his father was.  At this point the land was worth more than the meager living he made from the business.

Selling the land was out of the question. His father's will had been specific. His father was a big part of the community and so was the land. He could only keep it as long as he kept the business. If he sold the land or the business, he would forfeit any profit he made to the town.

Over the last few years new regulations and safety rules had slowed his business and hurt his income. Despite his best efforts, it was on the brink of failure. Then, last spring, a buyer had approached him with a proposition that would solve his problems forever. All he had to do was add a new product. Nothing prohibited him from doing that.

He made more money with the first harvest than he'd made in the last year. The second cutting made even more.  Unfortunately, equipment failure prevented him from getting the last harvest to market. The buyer had given him a stern warning. If it happened again their deal was finished.

He worked feverishly through the night, thanking his luck that he was home when the call came. Three people had died tragically in the car crash. Fortunately, thanks to his quick work, even more people would live. He took some comfort from that.

He carefully packed the freshly harvested organs into the ice filled chest. As he waited for the courier to arrive with the money and pick up the shipment, he started to repair the bodies, confident that no one attending the wake at his funeral home would ever notice.

If the usual number of people perished over the summer season, life would be good. For now he was content to enjoy the fruits of his harvest.

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