The Cry in the Orchard

At the far end of the orchard one night, Claire was plucking apples from a tree and dropping them into a burlap bag when, suddenly, a cry from the other side of the brick wall startled her. She waited silently to hear the cry again. She couldn’t tell if it was a human cry, or the cry of an animal. The night wind trailed briskly through the long grass and the dried fallen leaves, and touched Claire’s fingertips. The cry was indistinct. It could have been a cry of pain or a laugh. But Claire would never know. Silence crept back into the corner of the orchard, and the cry was heard no more.