The bright autumnal leaves float with reckless abandon as the car drives along the dusty road. Nothing but pumpkin patches and row after glorious row of grape vines, both ready for the seasonal harvest.

The car pulls off to the side of road, and the man excitedly jumps into the overgrown grassy field. The blue skies and cool temperatures from the nearby lake are what great novellas aspire to create in the mind.

He rests upon the wood vineyard fence.

The silence is rudely broken with the first shotgun blast, followed by repeated shots. Birds caw and emerge from the nearby woods.

The man is confused, then frightened. He ducks for cover, then runs back to the car to avoid further tragedy.

He forgets that Fall for some is also the Hunting season.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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