April and Augustus ran down the front steps from the doorway to the corner of their home at the edge of the hill. Counting out loud “one, two, three”, they ran a race to the top of the hill meeting up with their father, older brother, and Uncle Harley. Nestled with a little hook carved out of the trees in the woods where they would hang out for the evening. Reaching the yard swing, breathing heavily, they jumped up on it. They scuffled with each other, searching for comfort. The homemade swing bowed under the immense weight of their Uncle who had taken a seat next to them. Their father, who loomed larger than life, sat across from them. With the sun’s tip barely showing, night crept in slowly. Alone, they were deep in the woods on a hill that towered above their tiny home. It was a warm April evening. The air smelled of rain. The humidity was oppressive. Crickets began to stir upon the earth’s stage. The sun dipped permanently into the night. Lightening bugs fluttered a beat. Beaming tiny clicks of light sparked on and off as if in visual yet musical Morse code. Their father was already into the first of his many spooky tales. The tale provoked shrills from April as her fingernails dug into the wooden seat. Hoots and hollers came from Augustus. Shortly, his utterances hushed the music of the crickets. An obnoxious, yet funny bellowing laughter burst forth from Uncle Harley’s lungs. His lips were flapping as he practically choked on his “chaw”. April sat swinging with her legs pulled up to her chest. The balls of her bare feet and toes gripped the edge of swing. Her arms wrapped snuggly around her knees, holding herself in place in a simulated fetal position. Not allowing her feet to touch the ground, her father’s newest story gave her a bit of a fright. A small fire smoked. The flames danced casting creepy shadows on the trees behind them. Their oldest brother sat quietly in a lawn chair, smoking a pipe. Listening, while his eyes drew away focusing on the darkness slithering through the trees. Their father’s face lit up in the wild shadows that highlighted the horror of his last scary story for evening. Augustus sat squished between the left arm of the swing and his sister. His feet drug the ground. His one free arm draped around April, as his other arm wrapped around the swing chain. Fidgeting, he listened closely. Uncle Harley swung them back and forth. His eyes glued to his father’s face. He was afraid. His father’s voice droned on with a creepy and chilling effect. Their father told them of a ghost who roamed the very woods that surrounded them. “It was a wicked dark night in the month of April, just like tonight,” he told the twins. Rain spurted forth at first. Then it came down in sudden sheets as bitter, cold, and piercing as if it were tiny needles. Lightening ripped the sky open giving forth ravishing thunders that made loud raw demands. Thunder yelled out a cry of war. That encouraged the wind into a horrific fury of madness and action. As it gathered strength, it sent forth a whistling warning to all living creatures of its unmerciful intent to beat down upon the earth's inhabitants until devastation ravaged all in its path. Yet, at this onslaught of promises from the storm, a cruel farmer, who hated children more then he feared the dreadful force of nature around him, ignored the frightful warnings of nature’s cacophony. In a belligerent rage, he went to his barn and fired up his largest tractor. The tractor, a green belching beast, roared as he drove it to the end of the lane. He was chasing down children that tried to hide in a ditch there. Crazily, he laughed out loud. The children climbed out as his tires spun in the mud. Together they ran down the hill toward another barn for shelter. Not paying any attention to the escape of children, the farmer cussed and carried on until the tractor’s wheels grabbed hold and bolted forward. Suddenly, there was a harsh stop. The giant green beast threw the farmer into the ditch. It began to sink into the soft earth’s embankment. Before it gave way to the moving earth and lurched over onto its side. The farmer’s left arm trapped beneath it. He was helpless in the ditch as the water level rose. He gasped for air as the mud and water surrounded him. The children, frightened huddled in the barn at the base of the hill praying. The farmer did not cry out for help. Instead he cursed the children while taking his last few breaths and gurgled out “My arm, I want my arm! You damn children! I will get you – ALL OF YOU!" The twins drew closer together as their hearts beat faster. Their father continued to tell the story to his frightened twins as he crept closer to them. His voice was deep, dark, and loud. His eyes widened as his right arm pretended to be dangling at his side. The left arm appeared to be completely gone. He had it hid behind his back. His voice crackled a gurgle through his own spit. He came closer. “I have returned to this Hell hill in search of children and a new arm. I’ll take one from a strong boy or a pretty girl.” Quick as a flash, he reached out with his left arm that hid behind his back and grasped the swing bottom, violently shaking it. The twins screamed out in terror. Later that evening the twins ran in the woods hiding amongst the trees. Sneaking up on each other in fright till April slid in a patch of mud, and Augustus felt a drop of rain. They heard the roar of thunder or was it a tractor?