100 Words a Day 1177

Sarah stepped out onto the terrace and looked down onto the tiers of fields. Her family had owned them for as long as anyone could remember. They said they were a gift from the gods. Sarah’s family was already at work. They marched mechanically in a row, cutting the tall grain with ancient scythes.

Sarah could pick out each of her relatively by their shape and gait. At the far end was her great, great, great grandfather Baram. His corpse was the cleanest. The bones had been picked clean long ago. Sarah smiled. She loved having her relatives so close.