Here is a little short story I wrote the other night. I call this True Fiction -- A True Tale of Horror. The reason I call it this is because parts of it are true, and some are part of a dream I had. Hope you enjoy it. 

These black creepy and evil specters of satins creatures fly extraordinary -- regularly at midnight, following slaughtering the good man farmers’ fields of seeds, sown for harvest time. "Perhaps we can commence again and try tomorrow," the farmer said. Maybe, this one last time, he thought. 

The farmer was convinced this season would indeed be different, and he also knew that he was prepared to do anything necessary to achieve his dreams. 'When one door shuts, another door opens.' "I am youthful, healthy, and intelligent. I also have the wisdom and experience to produce and grow, the most consequential crop ever, here in these necks of the woods, the farmer told himself. I simply require to do some tasks slightly different, he conceived.  

However, every Hollow's Eve, no matter the new changes, they proceeded to feed, morning noon and night. These bastards of black flying crop-feeding creatures - the black crows. Until one day, the farmer pays the devil his due and ultimately pays the price. Oh, dear does he pay his due. All this resulted because of one crow's foul craving for food.

And then with a sudden burst of huge luck, it started to happen so quickly, and before long, the tables turned to gold. One fine beautiful day, yes, the sinister crows were gone. 

He had found the ugly strawman, hidden under the barn door, far below. When he carried it into his cornfields, something was bound to change. His luck changed. Indeed, how they changed. He felt this sensation immediately. And then it happened, the crows had vanished, but for some strange reason, the days grew harsh cold. How could the farmer grow a corn harvest in the cold? 

A week later, and the corn grew high upon the farmer’s homeland until it stretched out high over the farmer’s rooftop, and head. What was the secret behind this sudden prosperity he thought? Everyone began requesting identical questions, and the farmer was likewise stomped and bewildered. They all stood there, jaws dropping down beneath their chins, and they shook their empty heads with no answers. 

Until one dark rainy night, when something appeared crawling out from the cornfield into the farmer’s view. Fear was not even known to the farmer like this night upon him now. Two tours in Vietnam could not ever equate to this horror of a scare, the farmer quivered. Standing there frozen like a zombie dead, the farmer ran down past the growing harvest and went for the car door instead. 

Suddenly he woke up and realized he was safe and all alone in bed. No sign of black evil-looking crows here, he nodded his head and said.

The farmer then looked outside towards his harvest of cornfields and realized it was much later than he anticipated. That’s odd he thought. Tonight is Hollows Eve, but it all occurred so hastily. He found himself wandering outdoors in the cold. Over near the porch, he found the hideous strawman, buried far beneath the barn doors, where he supposedly last left it. When something came inching out from the cornfield, into the farmer’s view again. This something was the same creature he witnessed in his dream. Standing there frozen like a zombie dead once again, the farmer ran down beyond the growing harvest and headed for the car door as he once already did before, in his nightmare, not very long ago. 

The door was locked. This has all unfolded like this before. It was during this circumstance that the farmer abruptly realized exceedingly fast that premonitions some people have may realistically manifest, and come to pass instead.

In the cold miserable distance, blood-curdling screams could be heard echoing in the not too silent, but deadly night. And now, not moving, breathing, or waking up in his comfortable bed, it was true to say now, that the farmer was dead.