Man writes one page a day to a series of seven novels, every day, never stopping until he is finished. Horror meets modern-day Lord Of The Rings in this tale spanning 70,000 years about a twenty-four year old named Marvin and his encounters with an ancient anomaly known only as the "Harvester".
After a moments passing, Marvin waltzed back over to the driver side door. The stench of rotted cream had now been replaced by mechanical exhaust and oil. He loved the smell of gasoline. Taking in a big whiff, Marvin glanced at his gas gauge and remembered that the tank was low on fuel. The closest gas station was up the road at the Rutters farm store, but he wanted to explore. He didn’t know what awaited him in the other direction of Canal Road. It beckoned him, and he complied.
The town of Manchester was extremely rural, sprawling with trees, corn fields, and small brooks. Marvin rolled the windows down after a mile or so and could smell nature at its finest. After passing a few more houses, he found himself entering a forest of maple and oak. An old man riding an ancient Snapper brand lawnmower waved to him with a Coors Light in his other hand. Marvin had the stereo volume turned up a little past halfway when he saw and returned the gesture. The tree growth there was bountiful, offering the environment chlorophyll packed leaves along branches of established bark. The thought of strange smiles and bloody smirks escaped down the Conewago creek and through the Susquehanna valley. Marvin was at ease, and he liked the new feeling.
Progressing a few more miles, the 4-runner came to idle at an intersection that extended in both directions perpetually. It was called Vales Run, and Marvin rested his right foot on the brake pedal for a moment. He wondered which direction would take him into town. Up until then, he’d seen nothing but undeveloped farm land and double wides. He thought to himself.
