I'm not sure I like the ending....any sujestions?
It's strange I know but I wish I could draw!


A twilight fog resting airily upon the eastern edge of Farmer John’s largest field concealed his stealthy movements. Blacker than the descending night Morticent rarely made a move that others perceived. He was night. He was shadow. Only his eyes, two blazing orbs, shone like a roaring fire, fire fueled by lust, anger, hate. Fire that consumed the lives of those who Morticent stalked, feeding off their weaknesses and providing fuel to enhance them.
Tom the cobbler saw at Moticent’s biding a vague view of dancing women. Anne his wife swathe look in his eyes and burned for days with the continues screams of injustice that Morticent whispered in her head. And Tom listened intently in turn to the cold bitter words of a long growing hate for his “selfish, possessive” wife. And so Morticent never went hungry.
The village children were warned about him. “Be kind to your sister or Morticent will come and get you in the night!” None realized he was currently consuming their own souls.
Tonight though, tonight Morticent was out to catch a new quarry. Farm John had long shut his door to Morticent, filling his home with so much light that there were no shadows to offer Morticent shelter. So, Morticent waited and watched, never satisfied with souls already won. Tonight there was something different. The light was dimmer. The fog drifted closer to the home carrying Morticent with it. Now he could see in the window.
Farmer John sat with his head in his hands, a photo of his lovely bride before him. Two young girls moved about upstairs removing their mourning dresses in preparation for bed.
Yes, now was the time. The shadows grew with each tear drop upon the Farmer’s table.
“Come Farmer, why do you cry?” came the hushed thought as Morticent slipped in the window. “Crying can not bring her back.”
“No.” agreed the Farmer sobbing even more deepening the shadows, allowing Morticent to creep nearer.
“No, nothing can bring her back.” He hissed in a tentatively angry voice.
“She shall be raised in the resurrection.” Came a feeble reply that barely glowed.
Morticent chuckled at this and continued. “Oh yes the resurrection… but what about today? Who will help you raise your daughters? How will you ever be happy again without her? Is there a reason to go on without her?”
“Oh my Love!” Wailed the Farmer. “Why did He take you?”
“How could He take her?” Morticent corrected angrily. “He knew you needed her and He took her anyway!”
Farmer John’s fist tightened and the light all but disappeared, as though squeezed out by that motion. “Why?” he repeated through gritted teeth, his mind focusing on the injustice of it.
“Why didn’t she fight harder?” Morticent prompted again. “She could have made it but she just gave up.”
“She wanted to die.” Farmer John groaned.
“Wasn’t she happy here? Didn’t she love you and…”
“Daddy…” soft voice from upstairs called down. “Daddy, Mommy says it’s time for prayers.”
Farmer John’s head flew up. Morticent leaped forward to quickly squelch the flicker of light he saw in the blood shot eyes. “She is dead!” he hissed. “How could Suzanne make such a joke? It’s not funny!”
“Suzanne that’s not funny!” Farmer John shouted, hardly knowing what he said.
Morticent jumped on the anger and focused it. “She needs to understand she can’t do that. You can’t handle that. She needs to be punished.”
“But Daddy, Mommy said…” came the tearful voice of the four year old.
Farmer John stood up forcefully knocking his chair over. Morticent purposely knocked over the jug of water wetting the bottom of the portrait and cursed. Farmer John repeated the curse and stomped up stairs reaching for his belt at Morticent’s prompting. Morticent himself danced up behind him, drunk on the anger that grew in the devastated man’s heart.
But then something happened. Morticent was thrown down the stairs. Light filled the house leaving no where for Morticent to hide. He fled in confusion screaming his prompts in an effort to be heard but to no avail.
Pure love was the light that bright and strong, pure love so far from Farmer John’s heart as he ascended those stairs. What happened? Morticent would never know. But I will tell you.
Farmer John looked into his daughter’s room and saw the two girls huddled together on the bed crying. In their eyes, their eyes so like their mother’s, was the same fear he had seen on her face. And above them was a picture of Christ. The picture his wife had placed there and told the girls He would always take care of them. That’s when Morticent fell. Farmer John quickly stepped to the bed and gathered his girls up in his arms and prayed mightily. That’s when the angel came and chased Morticent far from the house, the guardian angle that looked just like the portrait on Farmer John’s table.

The King Returns

Quick comment: I wrote this awhile back and forgot to post it... I need to work on the last post so don't stop giving critiques... I need them. Thanks :)

Here's the story...

In the dim twilight no one saw him enter. The man in the shadows seemed like just another dancing branch of the willow tree, dark against the brilliant lights of the party. They continued their revelry, watching, laughing, singing, dancing, and he remained unnoticed as he moved toward the refreshment table. Now it must be understood that it was very late and everyone had long ago given up watchfulness. They were all drunk with the time and the energy it took to revel.
There were, however, in the very back of the crowd a row of men and women who bleary eyed scanned the crowd and watched the entrances. Some even dozed off only to be tapped awake again by those sitting next to him. They had been watching for so long and yet the party grew more boisterous and the revelers more prevalent and they less heeded. Their invitation has said how the party was to go. Yet the Lord of the house still had not returned from his long absence. And those who continued to wait for him to start the party were left sitting while the party seemed to take place without them. And those who sat in the row waiting had long given up trying to remind them, for the music was too loud and the revelers too drunk.
The servants of the house brought out more food. The music band played gaily whatever the rioting crowd requested. And the people forgot why they were there, and in who’s garden they danced.
He watched from the shadows for some time, his eyes ablaze with feeling. How much he had to share with them if they had but waited!
A loud crash sounded out, stopping the music cold. Laugher sounded hollowly and choked to a stop as all eyes turned to see him. Standing in His glory with the table over turned. Each one sobered instantly as realization dawned. How came he to stand in the mist of them and they not notice it? Those who had been waiting leaned forward now completely awake again and ecstatic for his return. But the revelers? They stood in fright. Some at the edge of the crowd turned to flee. Others hung their heads and walked quickly by. None could meet his eyes, so filled with hurt, pity and righteous anger. None could continue to revel when suddenly they remembered all they had not done.
At last the garden emptied, leaving only he and they who had waited. Till now they had said nothing, just watched the frightful event. Now he turned to them and smiled. He signaled the servants and the party began.
The best fruit had not been touched for it had been saved for his return. The sweetest music had not been played for the riotous group knew not what to request. And to those who had waited he told his tale. Of all the knowledge he had and the kingdoms he had gained for them.