Red Harvest

By James Aa. Keister

The stories begin with the wind picking up tapping on windows causing confusion curiousity and the face at the window causing fear.it's sudden stillness causing curiousity to arise and people to explore the cause only to meet with deadly consequences children and adults alike are targets for these alien beasts that are under instructions from a higher being news of deaths all over the globe some people are able to see them one man even uses them for his own gain a story that puts fear into the heart of every man for the safety of his family which inevitably proves fruitless

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Aa. Keister
• Release date: Oct 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301034321

James Aa. Keister

James Aa. Keister, was born and lives in Monroe, Michigan. An artist in both the arts and music. Letting this strong sense of talent flourish over into his writings. With an imaginative endorsement of realism that brings forth an ever flowing twist to his novels.

Book preview

Preface

What would any good mythical story be without it's creature? Or at least a concept of one. I look like a man, hell we all do! But there's no way I'm from this place, this world, this earth. And we wouldn't want to be. Yet, we're here to do a job. As cruel as it may seem to be, it's only our jobs. But before we are even able to carry out our tasks, we receive our branded tattooed instructions from somewhere beyond. Painted on pale white transparent flesh in crimson colored scars. Covering every inch of our bodies. Dancing lines of scribbles in some unknown language. Yet we understand it quite well. And they were tattooed on like labels to color crayons. Burnt into the skin with the tip of some unseen instrument. Perhaps a finger nail. I'm still unclear how it's done. Hell, God himself wrote in stone with the tip of his finger Why not flesh? And these humans call us beasts!

Even though we look and imitate men and women of earth, are we really the beasts? Regardless, we bare these tattooed written marks. And you humans can't even begin to imagine just how painful it is. Because when it happens, each of us cry out in agony. These humans like to claim that the noises they hear are just the winds at their windows. You know, those same noises your parents told you were just the winds biting at your window. But little do they know it is I who comes to your window. Every seven years, just to follow out my orders. And when my task is complete, I'll simply disappear, and that is what the soft whistling at your window is. Our echoing agony of when we receive our new set of instructions. Of course, some believe those screams to be the souls of our victims. Those we were assigned to harvest Like the reapers of some mass harvest of crop. Drawing it all unto themselves. This plenty of a bountiful land. Yet unable to wash the red from their blood stained hands.

Either way I find it very unsettling. Not something you would want to tell your children on a scary windy evening. So yeah, go ahead and tell them that it's just the winds outside their windows. That's probably easier to put to ease then the truth is to swallow. But you know what I say? Let them believe that we are just some myth, a story perhaps, or even a tall tale rumor. Yeah, that's right! Let them believe that we're just some campfire ghost story. Yeah! Because hell, if they think and believe that we're unreal or some made up hoax, then fine! We can never be suspected. Not that it even matters. I mean, once our jobs have been finished, we'll simply vanish...shortly after. Gone for another seven years. So you go ahead and believe what you wish, believe what you will. We're only the winds that whisper on the panes of glass you stare out into the night sky through. Even though you only see the darkened shadows that dance and play with the wind, know that we are right there watching you. Smiling as you fall to dreaming. Letting your mind run through the whole gambit of life played out. Your own designed heart ship parade. And without really knowing, without any real experience, you become our curious prey. Like a spider at your window. We creep in like the wind to taste you. And we will one day feed...on you.

Chapter One

There was no way they were ever going to sleep. Even though their mother had finally fallen to her last nerve. Sending in their father. Hoping his authority would encourage the two boys to lay down and sleep. But even he eventually gave in to their persistence. Letting them sit together in one of the beds further st from the big bedroom window. Hidden beneath a large blanket. Afraid of the face they both had claimed to see floating just outside their window. And even though their father had taken a flashlight out into the dark yard to search around the house, they remained unconvinced. Finding no trace of any malevolent evidence. He made the boys promise to stay quiet so that their mother could sleep and he, himself went back to bed.

While outside the two boys window lay wait a pair of watching eyes. They were watching the two boys hiding under the thick blanket. The watching eyes narrowed with thought. Then as an idea surfaced to mind, the watchful eyes changed into something else. Something it knew would entice the boys to look out the glass. It whistled at the glass. Then tapped gently. Staring in at the lump that wiggled on the bed. It's hot breath had fogged up the glass, but then the cool of night stole that away. Again it tapped at the thin sheet of glass. Sure it could have broken in at will and demanded it's toll, but that was not what it had been instructed to do. It's instructions were very clear and very precise. Designed to entice the very optimal amount of adrenaline.

Again a soft tap at the glass and a whisper. In having as much adrenaline in the blood as possible was craved above any known riches mankind could ever hope for. It then made the sound of a sweet whisper. It was using their mother's voice. And it had taken her shape, now floating just outside their window. Calling their names. One of the boys, braver than the other, slowly began to pull back the thick blanket that hid them from the world they lived in and the one that was just outside their bedroom window. He continued to pull the blanket away, until he had finally found the edge and stopped. Still fearful of what was lurking out there.

Both boys had just turned seven a week or so ago and being twins...it was easy to tell the two apart. One had a very shy and reserved disposition while the other was open for what ever. Save the situation they were facing. And it was this braver one who was about to discover just how brave he really was. Shushing his younger brother, by two minutes, he pulled up the edge of the blanket. Only enough to peek out into the room. But as soon as he found his bearings, his eyes went straight to the window. It's whispering winds were screaming at the glass in low tones of howling. Beyond, the trees danced and played as the wind pushed them around like a bully on a playground. He ducked his head back under the blanket and told his brother that the coast was clear. So he too pulled his head out from under the covering and glared over at the window. Seeing nothing, they both sighed a breath of relief. But then the light tapping sounded again. At first, they froze. Staring so intently out the glass. So the braver one slowly got up, his twin right behind him. They crept up to the window to peer out side. Above, they could see the fulling of the moon. Beneath, torrent clouds. They watched as the trees swayed and the shadows raced in and out of hiding. Both were at the windows glass when the older boy, braver in heart, was about to tell his shy twin that everything was okay. And then it appeared.

They jerked back from the glass at first, just as the face reappeared in front of them. But this time they saw the face of their mother instead of the hideous featured beast from somewhere unknown. Believing it to be their mother, the braver son unlatched the window and pulled it open. Wanting to question why their mother was floating outside. The window creaked open as a rusty hing protested with a squeaky plea. Both boys watching as what they believed to be their mother danced in midair, smiling in at them. She let herself float ever closer, in slow motion. So she would not scare the boys away. They stood with smiles on their faces. Watching her as she continued to do her splay of rhythmic moves, drawing ever closer. She got herself within range but then moved back. Swaying like a cobra. Ready to strike. It was her way of luring them to believe...to trust. Slowly closing in again. But this time she quickly reached out and grabbed both their pajama shirts and pulled them out the window. Holding