A Halloween treat
I drove through the golden afternoon light, through the rolling hills of what was probably the last little bit of undeveloped countryside in the whole area. As I drove over crunching gravel towards the small hand lettered sign that read simply "Brаnt Fаmіly Farm", the familiar produce stand came into view.
But something was odd. There were cars everywhere, lining both sides of the street, some haphazardly parked on a precarious angle alongside the ditch. Men milled about, or stood frozen, all of them gazing in one direction. Marina was at the produce stand, talking and laughing as she took money and helped customers pick out pumpkins. She wore a long flowing white skirt and nothing else. More...
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