Breakfast is Served
By Nomar Knight
Jacob lived on a dairy farm. His days began while the blackness of night dominated the landscape. Grass and shrubs were home to his precious milk producing cows. He maintained the milking station well lit. His herd remained hooked up to the machines when his ranch hand, Chester, called him outside.
“Boss, what in tarnation is that light in the middle of the field?”
Jacob scampered out to see what Chester was fussing about. He had grown weary of cattle thieves throughout the years and his experience made him reach for his double-barrel shotgun. It didn’t take him long to spot a bright light at the bottom of the hill.
“I did a headcount. All the cows are here.”
Chester spat tobacco and mumbled, “Maybe someone’s trying to steal old Bronco.”
He referred to the ornery bull who mated with the cows.
“I’m a go and see who’s out there. If I ain’t back in five minutes, you call the sheriff’s office.”
“Boss, whoever it is is on your property, if I was you, I’d shoot first, ask questions later.”
Jacob snickered, “I bet you would.” He shook his head recalling how Chester had served time for nearly killing his brother over his choice of music.
Jacob hustled down the hill in his jeep. He mumbled, “I’ll blast the no good cattle robbing lowlife.”
Upon arriving, he spotted a little fellow, covered in mud.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” He pointed his shotgun at the scrawny, dark haired stranger. “This is private property. You’ve got no business here!”
The stranger grinned and said, “I’m almost done, chief.”
“Almost done with what?”
A thud surprised Jacob. “I’ll shoot you, damn it!”
The man tossed his shovel aside. Jacob followed it and spotted his prized bull on the ground with its head bashed in.
“Get out of the hole, now!”
The man grinned, and opened a lid to what appeared to be an old wooden coffin. He wiped his hands on the bull’s bloody head and disappeared from view. Jacob had no choice but to get closer. He leaned and saw the stranger dripping the bull’s blood on a corpse’s mouth.
“What kind of a sick, city slicker are you?”
Jacob froze when he saw the sack of bones rise from the coffin.
The man said, “Master, I brought you a meal on wheels.”
Jacob gazed, confused and disoriented at the odd pair. When he gathered his wits, he pumped his shotgun. The noise drew the creature to him. Before Jacob could squeeze a round off, his screams filled the night.
The grinning stranger said, “Breakfast is served!”
- 500 words
© Copyright Nomar Knight 2015. All rights reserved.
A Knight Chills Flash Fiction Presentation.