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The Laughter in the Fields
The Laughter in the Fields
Old Caleb stood on the porch of his weathered farmhouse, staring into the darkness. Beyond the rolling fields of corn swayed in the breeze under the faint moonlight. It was quiet, except for the distant, ghostly sound of children laughing. It had started a week ago, soft at first, like the memory of a sound carried by the wind.
His sons, Matthew and Luke, had noticed it too. “It ain’t natural,” Matthew said one night, gripping the rifle he carried like a lifeline. Luke, younger and braver—or perhaps more foolish—laughed it off. “Probably some...
Old Caleb stood on the porch of his weathered farmhouse, staring into the darkness. Beyond the rolling fields of corn swayed in the breeze under the faint moonlight. It was quiet, except for the distant, ghostly sound of children laughing. It had started a week ago, soft at first, like the memory of a sound carried by the wind.
His sons, Matthew and Luke, had noticed it too. “It ain’t natural,” Matthew said one night, gripping the rifle he carried like a lifeline. Luke, younger and braver—or perhaps more foolish—laughed it off. “Probably some...
