An idea for a post-apocalyptic fantasy setting:
The god of the harvest has set himself against the folk of the land. Did they anger him? Was he driven mad by injury, or corrupted by the people’s misuse and abuse of the food system? Either way, the harvest is cursed – not with famine, but with hostile abundance. Let me explain:
In the summer, everywhere people once farmed, there are towering fields of ripe wheat. To go in too deep is to fall prey to the creatures that live within – the polevik, dressed in black and with a mop of grass atop his head leads you deep into the direction-less heart of the wheat. Or the feldgeister, the spirit of the whirlwind who snatches you up and leaves your body to be found later – missing your ribs.
Another 500 words (~4 min read) over at the full blog post: