The Naughtiest Meets the Bloodiest End

Poor Billy should have indeed listened to his mother's remarks. Heeded the warnings of his all-too protective grandparents for they knew the truth behind the cautionary tales that were told each night to the young generations.
"Be careful and respectful of the overgrown fields stretching from the hills to the old forest, for their guardian will seek retribution from those who dare trespassing the red cross."
He should have but "cautionary" in the mind of a teenage boy sounded like a challenge, the perfect opportunity to show to the village and the other kids that he was much more than another child. He went forth with his mischievous plan and overstepped the boundaries of the fields indeed marked by crosses painted with a strange dark and red paint, dry and gross. His moment of victory was short. As he revelled in the overgrown cornfield, his celebration was disturbed by the faint sound of heavy steps in the dirt and an abnormal wind blowing in his direction. Billy let out a gasp of s