Fiddlesticks Short Story
"It got out again?", said Alin with a sigh.
The day was finally over. Of course work was never really over as a farmer, but Alin had done what he had set out to do that day. Damn that goat, he thought. She had a death wish anyways. Been attacked by wolves twice now and still tries to escape the safety of her pen. One day she wont be so lucky. Alin contemplated whether or not he should go look for his goat, but decided against it. The day was finally over, which means he wanted to drink away memories. Not deal with that damn goat again.
Like clockwork, he began his nightly walk towards town. As the sun slowly faded into the distance, the temperature became much more bearable. His clothes, damp from sweat, dried in the breeze but the smell was still there. He didn't care, could they really think of him any less? The night was too young to start dwelling on those thoughts.
He opened the tavern door and kept his head down as he made it towards the bar. It was hard to see where he was going but at this point Alin could walk around the place blindfolded. A wooden stool and a cold beer waited for him. Pete, the bartender, always saved him a spot. It pays to have old friends.
"You might not want to stay here for too long tonight. The folks here are more rowdy than usual.", said Pete.
"Hah. They're the least of my problems.", laughed Alin. It was true. Alin a slimmer man and definitely wasn't the fighting type, but what waited for him at home was far worse than any beating could do. At least here, there were people, noise, and liquor.
The night progressed and just as Pete said, the place became more and more hostile. It wasn't unusual for fights to break out but this was different. Everyone seemed on edge, just waiting for someone to step out of line. Alin tried to avoid any unwanted attention but that wasn't easy given the stories. Everyone knew about Alin.
One man, drunk off his ass, stood up on the bar right next to Alin and called for everyone's attention. So much for keeping a low profile. He holds out a beer and exclaims, "Welcome to the kingdom of Demacia, the greatest place in all of RuneTerra." His rally was followed by a cheerful cry from the tavern. "Demacia..." His tone more serious and with purpose. "Where you can slaughter your without any punishment." His eyes shifted towards Alin as the man pours out his drink on Alin's head. "Cheers.", he says with a grin.
Alin swipes the man's feet out from under him and the proud spokesman comes fumbling down. He might have been hurt if it wasn't for all the booze in him. Alin immediately regretted this as two men close by tackle him to the ground, pin his arms behind him, and hoist him back up.
"That's enough!", said Pete.
"Defending a murderer?", yelled one woman. This stirred up the crowd even more.
As the man picks himself off the floor sloppily, Alin notices the man is trembling in rage. How much hate did these men and women really have for him? The spokesman's fist comes hurling at Alin as it lands directly above his left eye. One punch was all it took and Alin was out.
When Alin woke up, he was lying outside next to the back entrance of the tavern. Dazed and confused, he was again being pulled up to his feet. Here comes round two, he thought. "You really should have left Alin.", Pete said with a disappointed tone.
His body relaxed as the sound of his friend assured him he was safe. "Anywhere is better than that forsaken place, Pete. You know I can't stand being there."
"Then leave, nothing is keeping you here anymore.", said Pete. "Jenny would want you to be happy."
That left a bitter taste in Alin's mouth. Leave? How could he? Just pack up and pretend like nothing happened? Somehow that seemed worse than staying.
Alin shrugged off his friend and stubbled to find his balance. Pete handed him a lantern for the trip back. "Thanks Pete.", he said as he fumbled his way back home.
Still wet from the beer, Alin wanted nothing more than to wash up. He could tell that sleep wouldn't come tonight, it rarely did anymore. The walk back was always daunting, it reminded him of that night. The night he wishes would have never happened. Sometimes, he'd like to imagine that they're still there. That he'll open the door to his house and everything will be back to normal before it all went to shit. His wife would still be there to greet him like she did every night.
While entertaining this thought, an odor reached his nose. It was rotten, a smell that made your insides twist in knots. It was the smell of death. Too dark to see anything beyond the lantern, Alin could hear wings flapping in the distance fields and what sounded like something eating. While it seemed odd to hear birds so late into the night, the first thought that came to Alin's mind was that damned goat finally got it's wish. Alin picked up his pace from that point on.
When he reached the house, he went to the back of his shed and grabbed a shovel to handle to take care of the goat's carcass and maybe whatever killed it. On his way out, Alin kinda felt bad for the goat. He should have went after it befo...
Bahh
Alin turned around to see his goat standing next to it's pen. It was completely fine. Not a scratch on her. That damn goat, he thought. He opened the gate and she happily walked back in. He almost thought the problem was resolved but then he realized, if not the goat then what was out there? Suddenly an eerie feeling came over him and sent shivers down his spine.
Before he had time to assess the situation, a sound of broken glass came from inside the house. With shovel still in hand, he bolted towards the front door. Even though he hated it, that house was the last thing that reminded him of Jenny and he'll do anything before letting some thief defile it. He opened the door and there was still rumblings within the kitchen. As he ran up to the scene he was surprised by want he found.
There wasn't a thief, just a flailing crow that had gotten in through an open window. Of course there wasn't thief Alin, he thought. Realizing how foolish he must have looked brought forth a genuine laugh. Something he hadn't done in quite some time. His moment of ease was cut short when a voice pierced his very heart and left him motionless.
"Alin"
That couldn't be right. But it sounded just like her. "Jenny?", he replied. He was no longer aware of his surroundings, all knew was that his wife who had been dead for months had just spoken to him. He frantically searches the house. "Jenny?", but there was no sign of her. "Jenny!"
Maybe she was outside, he thought, and he rushes to find his wife. "JENNY!", he echoes into the dark. Afraid and confused his eyes fill with tears. No, he thought. I'm just too drunk and hit over the head one too many times. That couldn't have been her. He felt so alone just as he did on that night when he came home to an horrific scene of his wife dead. She had a cut across her throat and the look of fear permanently on her face. This truth sat heavy on his heart as he fell to his knees and began to weep.
The crow flies out of the house only to land a few paces away from Alin, he couldn't care less. Alin was still crying into his hands when he heard the voice again.
"Alin"
Again the soft voice of his endearing wife rang through his ears and Alin looked up. This time he was certain, the bird has spoken in Jenny's voice. The crow had slightly tilted its head as though it was unaware of its grievous offense and Alin was in shock.
"Alin" again said the bird. How dare it use her voice, he thought. His sadness quickly turned into anger as he lunged towards the crow. The bird quickly flew out of his path and away into the fields.
It was not getting away, though. Alin felt compelled to chase after it, as if it was his life's mission. He followed the crow threw the towering crops all the while it repeated its verbal insult of "Alin". Quickly, he realized that the smell he had noticed on the way back from the tavern had returned stronger than ever. He could barely hear the sounds of the bird over his own heart racing and once he had caught up to the bird, he was nearly out of breath.
Within the field was a small clearing and in the middle of it was a post with an intimidating scarecrow perched on it. He did not remember his scarecrow looking like this, nor was it carrying a scythe. The putrid smell was so strong he almost vomited and there was not one, but dozens of crows surrounding the clearing. As the bird he had followed sat upon the scarecrows shoulder, Alin jumped towards the crow and clenched it in his hands. He was surprised when it didn't struggle and the surrounding birds just sat there and watched the scene unfold. Not sure of what to do at this point, Alin screamed, "What are you?!". The crow stayed silent, only turning it's head every few seconds. Alin was convinced that he had gone completely mad. It's just a crow, he thought and suddenly and blood curdling cry came from the bird. Alin quickly let it go as the scream sounded like it came from Jenny.
Still using her voice, the crow cried out and flew into the air followed by the crows around the area. All using Jenny's voice, all crying out in pain. The screams were too much, Alin couldn't take it. He began to run away when a sudden slash came across his neck and Alin stood still. In Alin's last seconds he saw it, the scarecrow. A pile of straw and twigs, but it was moving a fluid as a human. The birds, became quiet as his body fell to ground just like wheat when it is harvested.
The looming scarecrow held it's scythe, now covered in blood. Again the crow perched on it's shoulder and looked at the strange being.
"What are you?" the crow says, now using the voice of Alin.
The scarecrow laughs as it leaves the home of now two murders. "The harbinger or doom."
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Thanks for reading all of that. I'm by no means great at storytelling but I wanted to give it a shot. Please comment down bellow!