Twisted Yarn

The sound of the exploding shotgun filled the surrounding area. As the smoke cleared, farmer John rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The young man was still walking towards him. "I forgive you", the young man says as he continues his approach. John loads the gun and fires it again. Through the smoke, the young man is still walking towards him.

Hands trembling and voice shaking, farmer John cries out, "What do you want?" as he loads the shotgun for another blast.

"I already told you. I want to talk to you about the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints."

"Bullshit!", the farmer cried.

With the young man now stopped at the end of his shotgun, the farmer tells his son, "You go inside now Jeremy and tend to your mother"."

The boy stands there in silence, stunned by what he just saw take place. "Git goin'!", the farmer cried, and with that, the boy ran inside and closing the door to the house behind him. The farmer raised the barrel of the shotgun to the forehead of the young parishioner. "Now what are you gonna do you son of a bitch?"

The young man said nothing. Just stared in the farmers eyes. His look was cold and somber.

CH-CHICK. The shotgun is cocked.

"I'm warning you!", the farmer cried out, "Get out of here!"

The stare is becoming painful with every passing second. Ten seconds pass, it feels like an eternity.

"I'm sorry", the farmer says quietly to himself. Was he apologizing to the man, who's life was about to end, or to himself, because he knew that once he pulled his trigger, his life would be changed forever?

BLAM!

As Farmer John looked out, he squinted in the blazing sunlight and saw a silhouette of a figure approaching. He got his shotgun in the ready position and yelled out "Who is that and what are you doing on ma propurty?! Are you what skeered ma boy?!"

There was no response from the figure, and Farmer John yelled out again threatening to shoot. As the figure got closer and then understood the threat, its arms went up and pleas of "Don't Shoot!" came from its direction. A young man in black pants, white shirt, and a black tie appeared out of the backlit cornfield. "Sir, might I have a minute with you to speak about the Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter Day Saints?"

Farmer John cocked his shotgun and politely said, "HELL TO THE NO!"

Jeremy ran towards his father, terror on his red face.
Buddy ran up onto the porch and inside the house.
Farmer John grabbed a hold of his son as the boy stopped violently in his father's large, calloused grasp.
"Where in the WORLD have you been, boy?" the farmer asked his son, getting on one knee.
"Your ma and I have been worried sick! Did you fall asleep out in the barn last night? Did you go down to the pond moonlight fishin' again and doze off?"
But the farmer knew something far worse had happened to his son, as the boy burrowed his face in his father's overalls and clung onto him for dear life.
Farmer John hoisted his child up and carried him into the house for his wife to take care of.
She ran to them, grasping Jeremy from his father, and carried the boy into his room.
Farmer John reached for his shotgun behind the front door and squinted into the morning sun and the trampled path of corn his son had made, coming home to him.
Thank God he came home to him.
"What in the HELL happened, boy?" John breathed out quietly to Buddy, who slowly joined his owner on the porch, ears up and nose pointed towards the cornfields.
"What in the hell is out there?" the farmer exhaled, as he gripped his rifle tight and slowly took a step down the front stairs of the house, never taking his eyes off the corn.

"where the hell did that boy go?" farmer john said, eating a piece of delicious bacon and scratching his head. he liked standing out on the back porch like this, where he could see his land stretching to the ends of the earth it seemed. he could see his pigs rolling around in their own crap (as pigs are wont to do), and cows lazily chewing their cud. that's a real nice mornin', he thought to himself, better find that fool boy of mine and git to wor- his train of thought was cut short by a blood-curdling scream. he looked towards the south field and saw jeremy running like a bat outta hell, buddy in the lead as usual.

"now what in tarnation's got into him?" he asked no one in particular.

Darkness.
The smattering of raindrops attacking him relentlessly.
And all Jeremy could do was lay in the pool of his own Quiznos' sick.
Lay there in the darkness.
Lay there, unaware of the footsteps making their way into the clearing.
What he heard next trailed off until he was completely unconscious.
The sickening sound of bones and flesh being mangled, possibly eaten.
It was a grotesque sound of splatter and dripping.....
Being wet in the face and having something nudging him back to the waking world, Jeremy painfully pried open his squinted eyes.
Something was attacking his face violently. It was soft and wet.
Buddy was licking his owner's face.
Jeremy slowly rose up and Buddy backed away.
The boy looked around his surroundings groggily and quickly stumbled back on all fours in terror.
The entire bovine carcass was gone!
All that was left from it, was the crimson dirt that once lay under it...
Jeremy managed to get to his feet, smacked buddy on the hindquarters, and ran as fast as he could back to the farmhouse, in the clear light of day.

Flies started buzzing around his face... and he saw maggots writhing throughout the carcass. The entire scene overtook him and poor Jeremy vomited his entire lunch all over. It was a shame too, he loved a good Quizno's sandwich. He fell to his knees in pain, continuing to dry heave.

Jeremy snapped out of his daze and crawled away from the heifer... rolling over on his back. He could still hear Buddy barking in the distance, but as much as he wanted to get up and find out at what, he couldn't just yet.

Despite the bizarre situation, Jeremy started to fall asleep in the warmth of the sun. What sounded like footsteps, crunching on the fell corn, began closing in on him.

Jeremy suddenly felt as though he had no control of his body. He felt trapped. One leg pulled away from him and then the other. He could not stop himself from walking towards the center of the clearing. There is an extreme stench surrounding him. It is, without a doubt, coming from the steaming cow carcass in front of him. What could have caused this animal to end up this way? As he got closer, he realized that the bovine was turned inside out. Why could he not stop? He kept thinking

"STOP!!!!!
	STOP!!!
		STOP!!!!!!"

His internal screams would do no good as he continued to be pulled towards the center, and the inverted animal.

Clouds rolled ominously in from the east.
The corn fields bellowed as one, the distant rumbling of thunder heard through the dark slate sky.
Jeremy ran through the field, calling out to his dog Buddy.
"Buddy! Here boy! Where are ya boy?!?!" the little boy cried out, furrowing his brow upwards at the churning sky.
He heard his dog bark out a few yards ahead into the increasingly dark row of corn before him.
That's where the old scarecrow is put up, Jeremy thought.
He quickened his pace and swatted his hands up in front of his face, knocking a way towards his goal.
Almost there, he thought as he pushed his way into the clearing where his dog Buddy was heard barking.
Jeremy, breathing erratically, stepped into the open area and his knees buckled under his weight. His big blue eyes widened in fear and his face contorted into a grotesque visage.
There was no escaping now. It was too late.

So, in hopes to bring a bit of life back into this here story, the current story is over. Lets go ahead and start anew. Would anyone like to start?