The harvester

This is a lovely love story filled with ardor and longing. This is a wonderful statement on how wholesome living and selfless service increase love. David Langston, the man, is a guy of strength, honesty, and straightforwardness, not to be put above tenderness, gentleness, and kindness. Move over, Mr. Darcy. The Harvester who appears in the story takes the candlestick and the knife box, opens the door, and then goes back to the stoop. With begging in his eyes, Belshazzar stood up and took a few steps forward slowly. The man ignored it completely as he knelt over his work. A nighttime love song could be heard coming from across Loon Lake. When he was a young boy, he had retreated from such messages until his mother told him that a small brown owl had written them. Belshazzar mustered the fortitude to take five steps forward after hearing the Harvester chuckle before he fell back to the ground. A line of golden light that ran parallel to the water from the opposing bank to the gravel bed below was cast by the moonlight as it struck the lake's gently rippling waves. Behind her was a shimmering mist, and as she drew closer he could see she was even more beautiful than he had imagined.