The Stick Man’s Harvest
Summer had departed, and a crisp autumn breeze brought with it the promise of an early winter. Already, the trees, resplendent in vibrant shades of red and gold, were shedding their leaves, and large banks of powdery-grey clouds hovered on the horizon as if waiting for the order to advance.
Declan and Ryan, a newly-wed couple in their late thirties, had recently moved from Baltimore into the two-story home of their dreams. Set on ten acres of the greenest, most beautiful land either of them had ever seen, the farmhouse and its surrounds represented a well-earned change of lifestyle.
“This is all ours,” said Declan. He wrapped his thick arms around his husband’s waist and looked into his chocolate-brown eyes.
Ryan smiled and kissed Declan tenderly on the mouth.
