It was a bright spring day in early April, oddly warm for a part of the country where winter usually keeps a firm grip on the landscape well into May. The flowers in the garden were taking full advantage of the anomalous weather and had begun to bloom. Reds and yellows cascaded over the rough rock walls that lined the walkway from the main house down to the many levels of the tiered patios. Even the myriad small creatures that lived in the woods just beyond the lawns had started to peek from their slumbering holes and began to frolic in the warm morning sun.
The sun rose toward the summit of the sky and the heat increased. Children appeared and the expansive lawn became a medieval field of games. There were great jousting tournaments with broomsticks as steeds and lances. The crack of yardstick swords floated across the grass as mighty duals were fought. The air was filled with cries of victory and celebratory laughter until the afternoon grew too hot and the competitors retired to the house for lemonade and to revel in the days events.
Clouds shaded the landscape as the evening approached and the flowers grew weary of sunbathing. They slowly folded their delicate petals into themselves and slumbered. The forest creatures, there bellies now full of nuts and clover, returned to their holes, saying furry prayers to whatever gods they believed in, that tomorrow would come and be as glorious as today. Lights began to glow in the house and soft music played until, hours later, the windows gradually grew dark there too. The warmth of the day evaporated into the cool night, only the soil beneath the grass holding on to a small bit of heat.
Late, when all was quiet, the night creatures came out to hunt.
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