It was a peaceful Halloween night in the countryside of Devon, England until a loud rumbling from the skies woke the grounded men and women in the villages below. They stumbled in an exhausted stupor to peer towards the clouds with their sleep-glazed eyes. However, when nothing was to be seen, and the motor-like growl faded from their ears, they dawdled back to their bedrooms and returned to the conscious-stealing warmth of their beds. The growl came again, but now overhead a different village in a different area of Devon, and the cycle of lethargic feet exiting their homes to discover the source of the noise was repeated.
Elevated many feet in the atmosphere, there was a large, bearded man riding a powder-blue motorcycle through the sky. Both the man and the levitating vehicle were hidden away from the view of men and women below by the clouds that hung lazily in the sky. The man burst through the puffs of cloud to a clear section in the sky, with no fear of being spotted, as there was nothing below but rolling hills of green. Attached to the motorcycle, there was a small cart being used as a makeshift passenger’s seat. Nestled inside of the cart were two blanketed bundles. The large man operating the vehicle leaned over the side to gaze down at two sleeping faces of infant twins. Each infant had tufts of hair poking out from their blankets—one with black hair, and the other with red. Each of these infants, however, sported an identical lightning bolt-shaped scar above their right eyebrow. The man was visibly relieved to see that, unlike the villagers; the infants had not been disrupted by the frightening growl of his motorcycle, but rather lulled by it.
As the vehicle descended towards the ground, it began to sputter and groan in protest, but this did not seem to bother, nor alarm, the driver. The wheels hit against the ground with a great thud that rocked the entire structure. Now safely grounded; the man directed his motorcycle to drive past a wooden sign painted white with an overlaying layer of scrawled handwriting, which read ’THE BURROW’. After several moments of driving through farm-like fields and dirt roads, the vehicle squealed to a stop just a few feet from a home that looked unstable. It was grubby and tall with several tilting towers, and it almost looked as if the structure had been manually enlarged from its once original, tiny state. The man stood from the motorcycle, revealing his massive height, and equally as massive width. He sported long, wild, waist-length brown hair and a long, scraggly beard that he could tuck into his belt. His eyes, as they peered through his goggles, were black and beady. He took exactly twelve large steps before reaching the door to the home
มันเป็นที่เงียบสงบคืนฮาโลวีในชนบทของเดวอน อังกฤษ สหราชอาณาจักรจนเสียงดังก้องดังจากฟากฟ้าตื่นดินชายและหญิงในหมู่บ้านด้านล่าง พวกเขาสะดุดในตัว stupor หมดให้เพื่อนไปสู่เมฆด้วยเคลือบนอนหลับตา อย่างไรก็ตาม เมื่อไม่มีให้เห็น และ growl มอเตอร์เหมือนจางหายไปจากหูของพวกเขา พวกเขา dawdled กลับไปยังห้องนอนของพวกเขา และกลับไปขโมยสติอบอุ่นเตียงของพวกเขา Growl การมาอีกครั้ง แต่ตอนนี้ มีการทำซ้ำค่าใช้จ่ายในหมู่บ้านต่าง ๆ ในพื้นที่แตกต่างกันของเดวอน และวงจร lethargic เท้าออกจากบ้านของพวกเขาเพื่อค้นหาแหล่งที่มาของเสียงElevated many feet in the atmosphere, there was a large, bearded man riding a powder-blue motorcycle through the sky. Both the man and the levitating vehicle were hidden away from the view of men and women below by the clouds that hung lazily in the sky. The man burst through the puffs of cloud to a clear section in the sky, with no fear of being spotted, as there was nothing below but rolling hills of green. Attached to the motorcycle, there was a small cart being used as a makeshift passenger’s seat. Nestled inside of the cart were two blanketed bundles. The large man operating the vehicle leaned over the side to gaze down at two sleeping faces of infant twins. Each infant had tufts of hair poking out from their blankets—one with black hair, and the other with red. Each of these infants, however, sported an identical lightning bolt-shaped scar above their right eyebrow. The man was visibly relieved to see that, unlike the villagers; the infants had not been disrupted by the frightening growl of his motorcycle, but rather lulled by it.As the vehicle descended towards the ground, it began to sputter and groan in protest, but this did not seem to bother, nor alarm, the driver. The wheels hit against the ground with a great thud that rocked the entire structure. Now safely grounded; the man directed his motorcycle to drive past a wooden sign painted white with an overlaying layer of scrawled handwriting, which read ’THE BURROW’. After several moments of driving through farm-like fields and dirt roads, the vehicle squealed to a stop just a few feet from a home that looked unstable. It was grubby and tall with several tilting towers, and it almost looked as if the structure had been manually enlarged from its once original, tiny state. The man stood from the motorcycle, revealing his massive height, and equally as massive width. He sported long, wild, waist-length brown hair and a long, scraggly beard that he could tuck into his belt. His eyes, as they peered through his goggles, were black and beady. He took exactly twelve large steps before reaching the door to the home
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