The Last Harvest

The Last Harvest I pulled over because the field looked too perfect. Rows straight, dirt turned clean, like someone had just finished working it. But the house next to it was falling apart, windows gone, porch sinking into itself, no lights, nothing. I walked toward the barn and saw the graves in the field. Two of them. All close to each other like they never wanted to leave. The dirt on the last one was still soft, darker than the rest. When I stepped closer, I felt it. That weight in the air like someone standing right behind me. I turned around quickly, but there was nothing there. Still, I could feel it moving through the field, slow and steady, like something was finishing its work and instantly got freaked out. I ran to my truck and drove off, but I kept thinking about that last grave and that feeling I just got from the field. It did not feel finished, almost like someone or something was still there. “Some graves look settled, but the fresh ones feel like the reaper just stepped away to catch his breath.” AKA Chambo (Digital Artwork) 2025