poem/story concept

all of the village people think the slightest foreign concept is strange

anyone outside of their church is deranged

they don’t know that the real danger is not the man in the black cloak

he is in love with one of your village folk

blood moon hysteria, sightings bad on the psyche,

you bound your love to him now you belong to the crows

- chapter 1-

robin’s egg

Early in November fog finally came to cover the wheat fields that have thrived in the burning sun. Walking along a path by the windmill was a stranger traveling through this fog. No one knows him, and neither do I. But everyone knows him by his black cloak. He felt bad for the lonely scarecrows and always talked to them in the morning. “What’s that ?” he leaned in closer to hear the scarecrow better. *The sound of the wind gusts by*

He hugged the scarecrow tightly. He cried tears for the scarecrow who could never express for themself. A lantern moving from behind a hill becomes more visible as a shadow walks from the near distance. The farmer of these large and abundant wheat fields shooed him away out of fear. The man was seen as a bad omen and the farmer didn’t like the thought of what curses he could be putting on his scarecrows. It began to rain.

*rain taps lightly on the window* Waiting for the man in the black cloak to pass by once again, B waits by the window covered in his blanket with a lantern to make sure he notices him.

B was imitated by the thought of approaching the stranger, but the stranger’s every now and then glance at his window satisfied him enough for now and fueled his strong curiosity even more. Almost everytime after, B would make breakfast and go to bed. B often spent his nights late and awake.

A concoction of night, cold winds, and violent rain stirs into something it wasn’t supposed to Awoken from what seemed to be a bad dream, B awakens to bad vibes that seem to want to seep him deeper into the dream. I want to wake up. Standing upon a fence post in front of a large harvest moon, the man in the black cloak stays swaying , whistling. He wanted you to hear this, B. And B listened. B ran from him, wanting to hear more but danger lurked. Not knowing what, B ran unknowingly and wanted to keep it that way. Continuing to run from a feeling that eagerly wanted to confront him. If he would just acknowledge that he smiled looking outside that morning, we wouldn’t be here. B woke up to the smell of toast. B- *Yawns* B notices that he woke up in the night a bit earlier than usual. He notices By the time he sleeps, he won’t be awake to see the stranger in the morning again today. I hope you will be able to sleep through what storm comes tonight. the man in the black cloak walked into the distance whistling. The tune seemed to say “i’ll kiss you goodnight, farewell stranger that I love, you cried tears for me that I never thought I'd feel myself.” The red wants to see you dead as if staring down upon the world, a blood moon like never before peaks past the trees. Like an unfortold prophecy, the wheat fields are covered in blood seeping into the earth. The scarecrows dance to an unheard song. They are smiling. They are going to be free. Only if they do as they promised to the man in the black cloak. Waking up from the bright red light of the night, B awakens to a chill wind, a new kind of season. Hearing a flute in the night, B decides to walk downstairs to see what could be outside. He is there, playing a hymn in the fields for the scarecrows. B listens quietly, feeling how happy they are. It is a calm night, until B realizes he has stepped on blood squilching in the earth. what have you wrought upon us ? walking up to the man in the black cloak walked into the distance whistling. The tune seemed to say “i’ll kiss you goodnight, farewell stranger that I love, you cried tears for me that I never thought I'd feel myself.”