Harvest

Rhet Oric, his eyesight failing him so badly that he's misplaced his glasses. God once commanded of Rhet to, without question, murder one of his two living sons, Eth and Path. Except that once the scythe was sharp and the days cannabis was swath he found himself hung in the decision of which boy to sacrifice to the almighty, not-so-specific pragmatist.

Rhet Oric, the antihero, without question he would use the scythe, the famed blade presented to his father's fathers by the father of time and great patron of harvest Cronus. The right tool for the grim job, the blade of harvest, but which soul to harvest? Path had always been a good boy, with minstrel and poetic colors, full of sympathy, imagination and triumph. The second living son, Eth, a fine horseman who's always shown good moral character, somewhat less pensive than his younger sibling. Eth never dabbled in the abyss whereas Path seemed to be the groundskeeper, always staring deep and welcoming in the beautiful sadness. Eth preferred debutant women whereas Path shown no obvious sexual preference, having always been one to taste of every fruit on the tree. This sometimes troubled Rhet Oric, kept him awake some nights and for a moment he'd made his decision, or the Lord's obscure decision.

Rhet really couldn't afford to gift away either of his progeny as there is much work to be done with flock and field. Who then would carry on his line, the lineage already but a trickle? He'd be as well off to waylay both lambs out of indecision as to deny God his unfeasible task . Damn indecision!