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Beyond the Western
The Early Harvest
Scott A. Gese
Image Source: Wikimedia Commons
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Come morning he would know for sure.
Beyond the Western
Bethany Allen was fed up with the noise. “William, I’m done asking. Shut those dogs up!”
“I’m watching the teli. I’ll do it in a minute,” replied William.
William Allen finished off his beer and headed for the back door. He stopped off at the frig and grabbed another on his way out. He took it with him along with a flashlight as he went out to where the dogs were penned up for the night.
“You boys need to quiet down or the misses will be sending you down the road, and maybe me right along with you.” He tipped back his beer. When he looked up he almost choked. In the sky just above his wheat field were two orbs of light They weren’t much bigger than a basketball.
They were circling the area faster than he could track them. One second they were on his left, the next they were on his right. How they kept from running into each other was beyond Williams understanding.
William dropped his beer and ran back toward the house. He tripped on the top step and fell through the back door landing in a heap at his wife’s feet.
“Where’s my camera? There’s something out there. I have to get a picture before they’re gone.”
William picked himself up and ran for the camera. His wife went for the back door. By the time she got there, there was nothing to see. William came running out with his camera. “Where are they?” He exclaimed.
“Where are what?” His wife replied.
“The orbs. They were flying out over the wheat. Didn’t you see them?”
“There were no orbs out there when I got here. How many beers have you had tonight?”
“I tell you, they were there. You’ll see. Come tomorrow morning, first light, you’ll see.”
“I’ll see what?” She replied.
“What’s out there. It’ll be there just as sure as I’m standing here.”
“And what might that be?” Asked Bethany.
“Crop circles,” replied William,
Bethany wasn’t having any part of William’s drunken hallucinations. She went back into the house without another word.
The following morning at the crack of dawn, William and his wife were rudely awakened by a loud noise over the house. William put on his robe and ran down the stairs to the back door.
When he stepped out he was met by a man in a military uniform. Overhead was a helicopter circling his wheat field. A man was leaning out the side door taking pictures.
“When were you going to harvest your wheat?” Asked the soldier.
“I don’t plan to harvest for another week,” replied William. “It’s not quite ready yet.”
“The plan has changed. You’ll harvest it today.”
“I just told you it ain’t ready,” protested William.
“Harvest it today or watch it burn,” replied the soldier as he turned and walked away.
William went back to the house in a huff. “They want me to harvest the wheat,” he told his wife.
“But it ain’t ready.”
“That’s exactly what I said, but they’re not listening.”
“What the heck is going on, William?”
“Not sure but I’m about to find out. I think it has something to do with what I told you last night.”
“Crop circles?”
William didn’t say another word. He dressed, hid his camera under his jacket and headed out to the barn.
While he was in the house, a reporter from the local paper showed up. He wasn’t allowed to take pictures and was ushered back to his car and ordered to leave.
When William came back out, he was stopped by the soldier. “Where are you heading?” He asked.
“You said I had to harvest today. I ain’t gonna do it by hand. My equipment is in the barn.”
“You only need to harvest within the area where we place markers.”
“Well gee, that’s mighty kind of you,” William sarcastically replied.
He continued to the barn but before he started the combine he climbed up into the loft and looked out over the field. “I knew it,” he commented to himself. “A crop circle.” He pulled out his camera and started snapping pictures.
William harvested his field where the circle was as the soldier stood by and watched.
The following day he sent a copy of his pictures to the local paper.
© Copyright 2020 by Scott A. Gese All Rights Reserved.
