This is a story my character Maria wrote and preformed at AVE's third year anniversary party. A few people asked me to post it here... so here it is.
As most of us know, there is a farm plagued by the undead close by Milltown, not far from here. Have you ever wondered, how it came to be as it is? How such a place could be fraught with evil? I’ve heard, from not too reliable sources mind you, that the farm was once run by a very wealthy man. The people who worked for him practically lived there with him, as he never let them leave. He worked his ranch hands late into the night and bade them all to be back before daybreak the next morn. Most of them never slept.
As the story goes, one night the farm was utterly still. The farmer had gone to rest as his workers toiled away into the midnight hour. But the farm was still… silent as a viper resting in the rushes. Then the silence was broken as the crows screamed in terror from the orchard beyond. Something crept.. Death for them all crept from the lake. Death, in all it’s wicked beauty spilled from the rippling inky blackness of the water and took over. First the animals and then the ranch hands working in the fields… death took them all.
The farmer awoke with a terrified scream when something icy touched his face as he slept. He shot out of his bed and backed away from the slobbering, keening visage before him. Stumbling, lurching the workers started toward him, their hands clasping and unclasping in anticipation. They had, in essence, come for revenge. The farmer fled his house, slamming the door on the undead ranch hands, trapping them inside. Kicking aside the now zombie-fied turkeys and chickens, he ran to the silo and climbed the ladder, hiding in the top. He waited, alone and afraid… below he could hear the specter’s attempting to climb up after him in their deadly stupidity. And then, just before dawn was about to break yet again… death took him too, and so he waits there still. Or, so some would have me believe… but really who’s to say?