The Prologue
The wind whips dirt into spirals down a beaten road in the country, miles from the nearest city. The sun blazes upon the road baking the imprints of cart wheel trails and footprints into the dirt. A sign, cracked and saturated in moss, hangs above a fork in the road; it reads “Manor Farm”. Just up the road a farmhouse sits next to a barn. The farmhouse is small and uninviting with patches of yellow paint that's chipped and crackly. The barn looks the same but, covered in bright blood red paint and stained with dirt and manure.
A cow moos from inside the barn and a black horse drags a cart up the road. His hoofs make a gritty clack whenever he steps, his legs of pure muscle could crush a human skull with ease. Inside the cart is an array of fresh milk bottles; boxes of eggs; barrels filled to the brim with grain; and crates with assorted vegetables. The owner of the farm is walking alongside the horse, barking orders at him and slashing him with a whip.
Other animals are roaming around the farm, a black cat is sitting on the roof of the farm house staring down a bird sitting a few feet away, it’s ready to pounce and sink its claws into the bird’s feathers. There's also a donkey staring off into the distance contemplating the secrets of the universe. Other animals are about, but there is a doleful feeling across the whole farm, as if no one really wants to be there but has no other choice. The animals all seem overworked and underfed, with their eyes sunken in and blood shot. The hostility towards the master of the farm is apparent. Some of the animals seem less agitated, they are oblivious to the turmoil at hand or have been whipped into submissive ignorance. Some puppies are wrestling under the shade of a tree, and nearby some pigs are rolling in a puddle of mud to cool off.
Inside the barn there aren't many animals, since the owner of the farm keeps them out and working constantly. There are a few elderly animals that sit in their stalls waiting to die. There is a pig in the barn, more seasoned than the other animals, with wispy white hairs and dead eyes, fragile from a long life of excruciatingly hard work. His glazed over eyes are filled with thought and he speaks, and the animals listen, and he dies.
A cow moos from inside the barn and a black horse drags a cart up the road. His hoofs make a gritty clack whenever he steps, his legs of pure muscle could crush a human skull with ease. Inside the cart is an array of fresh milk bottles; boxes of eggs; barrels filled to the brim with grain; and crates with assorted vegetables. The owner of the farm is walking alongside the horse, barking orders at him and slashing him with a whip.
Other animals are roaming around the farm, a black cat is sitting on the roof of the farm house staring down a bird sitting a few feet away, it’s ready to pounce and sink its claws into the bird’s feathers. There's also a donkey staring off into the distance contemplating the secrets of the universe. Other animals are about, but there is a doleful feeling across the whole farm, as if no one really wants to be there but has no other choice. The animals all seem overworked and underfed, with their eyes sunken in and blood shot. The hostility towards the master of the farm is apparent. Some of the animals seem less agitated, they are oblivious to the turmoil at hand or have been whipped into submissive ignorance. Some puppies are wrestling under the shade of a tree, and nearby some pigs are rolling in a puddle of mud to cool off.
Inside the barn there aren't many animals, since the owner of the farm keeps them out and working constantly. There are a few elderly animals that sit in their stalls waiting to die. There is a pig in the barn, more seasoned than the other animals, with wispy white hairs and dead eyes, fragile from a long life of excruciatingly hard work. His glazed over eyes are filled with thought and he speaks, and the animals listen, and he dies.