Farm Land pt3

The Farmer lifts his head and stretches his thick arms to the sky, palms raised upward. He bellows a blood curdling scream. The storm has passed and now his children are free. In the mud they approach stomping, barring each other and fighting like a freshly hatched egg sack of spiders.

A dozen slow-moving hungry children with thick gorilla faces, stare blankly at their father. Their foreheads protrude like swollen melons on oversized skulls bobbing like half deflating balloons attached to adolescent kids.

One son, the eldest, challenges the father. He attacks sinking his teeth deep into the farmer’s shoulder. The father grips his son by the neck and swings him forward, throwing him in the mud. The confused boy looks up half-witted and innocent. Too young and stupid to realize what he has done.

With his massive bare feet the Farmer smashes the boy’s chest, stomping him to the Earth, forcing his body into the mud of the fields. The boy’s ribs snap like twig branches forcing blood up his windpipe and enabling him to scream. Blood chokes his throat and explodes outward.

His brothers and sisters smell the freshly spilt blood. The hunger within them swells. Dinner is served. The family gathers around and begins to devour their eldest like a pack of wolves upon a fallen elk.

The human species is damned upon their own demise.

Blood continues to seep into the Farm Land.

Rain keeps trying to wash it away.

Original story and paintings
Copyright © 2018, Charles Denton