A little creepy story for you today...
Original Image by Screamenteagle from Pixabay
Scarecrow
The air smelled of damp earth and moonlight glistened off the dying corn stalks. I shivered when the cold wind hit my face. The field seemed to stretch for miles, dozens of decaying plants and a grassy meadow beyond. I didn't recognize any of it, but it felt familiar. Something else felt familiar too.
I was scared.
Fear cramping my gut, I crouched behind the withering stalks to hide from… I wasn’t sure. I slowed my breathing, peering between the vegetation, staring into the shadows and the shifting moonlight. I listened, but heard nothing. Slowly I rose and glanced towards the distance, wondering if I could run.
Where? Where would I run?
A dark shape caught my attention. Something stood at the edge of the corn rows. As light drifted into the gloom, I saw outstretched arms, a figure wearing a straw hat, stuck on a pole. I sighed in relief. Just a scarecrow. Then I frowned.
Funny, I didn’t notice it before.
I tried to look away, to search for an escape, somewhere to run, but I kept staring. It drew me in, this black silhouette of a raggedy man stuffed with straw.
Wait, did it move? Must have been the wind.
Except there was no wind.
I shuddered, unable to break my gaze from the scene. Its spindly arms grasped the pole and thrust itself off, the scarecrow landing on the ground with a rustle of grass and a faint thump. I whimpered as it turned and I saw its contorted face and black eyes. I shivered at the sight of its lopsided grin.
I’m dreaming, I must be dreaming.
Straw crackled loudly, too loudly, and the creature lumbered towards me, arms outstretched, fingers curled like claws. Bile and terror surged in my throat but I couldn’t move. It lumbered closer and closer, my brain screaming, but my feet refused to budge.
Run, damn you, run!
But I stood, as immobile as a statue, until I felt the thing’s breath on my face. It stopped, somehow staring with black button eyes. A hand lifted, touching my shoulder. My body went cold and rigid and I screamed. When the sound of my fear faded, I heard its raspy voice speak, even though it’s painted smiling mouth didn’t open.
“Come with me.”
Only then did I bolt, wrenching away from its grasp, stumbling over my feet, racing through the dusky field and across the moonlit meadow. Running, running, always the dim edge of the field in sight, yet…
I glanced back. The scarecrow stood in front of the corn rows watching me. I tripped, falling to my knees. For a moment I closed my eyes. When I opened them I was back among the corn, the scarecrow a foot away.
What is happening?
The plants rustled and the scarecrow moved, kneeling down beside me.
“Stop running. Accept what is to come. What you lost.”
“Accept what?”
“You know.”
I shook my head, terror consuming me. The thing reached out a hand, but I shrank back. If it touched me again, I was done. I knew that.
“Stay away! Stay away!”
I crawled on all fours before scrambling to my feet and racing away from…
I don’t know. I don’t know.
Whatever the thing was it would be the end of me if I let it near. It’s words triggered something in my head, a voice, almost like a hazy memory.
Time of death, 1:59 PM.
That's it until tomorrow, remember to hop on over to check out the other participant's offerings as well. And come back tomorrow for my dark poetry corner.
I was scared.
Fear cramping my gut, I crouched behind the withering stalks to hide from… I wasn’t sure. I slowed my breathing, peering between the vegetation, staring into the shadows and the shifting moonlight. I listened, but heard nothing. Slowly I rose and glanced towards the distance, wondering if I could run.
Where? Where would I run?
A dark shape caught my attention. Something stood at the edge of the corn rows. As light drifted into the gloom, I saw outstretched arms, a figure wearing a straw hat, stuck on a pole. I sighed in relief. Just a scarecrow. Then I frowned.
Funny, I didn’t notice it before.
I tried to look away, to search for an escape, somewhere to run, but I kept staring. It drew me in, this black silhouette of a raggedy man stuffed with straw.
Wait, did it move? Must have been the wind.
Except there was no wind.
I shuddered, unable to break my gaze from the scene. Its spindly arms grasped the pole and thrust itself off, the scarecrow landing on the ground with a rustle of grass and a faint thump. I whimpered as it turned and I saw its contorted face and black eyes. I shivered at the sight of its lopsided grin.
I’m dreaming, I must be dreaming.
Straw crackled loudly, too loudly, and the creature lumbered towards me, arms outstretched, fingers curled like claws. Bile and terror surged in my throat but I couldn’t move. It lumbered closer and closer, my brain screaming, but my feet refused to budge.
Run, damn you, run!
But I stood, as immobile as a statue, until I felt the thing’s breath on my face. It stopped, somehow staring with black button eyes. A hand lifted, touching my shoulder. My body went cold and rigid and I screamed. When the sound of my fear faded, I heard its raspy voice speak, even though it’s painted smiling mouth didn’t open.
“Come with me.”
Only then did I bolt, wrenching away from its grasp, stumbling over my feet, racing through the dusky field and across the moonlit meadow. Running, running, always the dim edge of the field in sight, yet…
I glanced back. The scarecrow stood in front of the corn rows watching me. I tripped, falling to my knees. For a moment I closed my eyes. When I opened them I was back among the corn, the scarecrow a foot away.
What is happening?
The plants rustled and the scarecrow moved, kneeling down beside me.
“Stop running. Accept what is to come. What you lost.”
“Accept what?”
“You know.”
I shook my head, terror consuming me. The thing reached out a hand, but I shrank back. If it touched me again, I was done. I knew that.
“Stay away! Stay away!”
I crawled on all fours before scrambling to my feet and racing away from…
I don’t know. I don’t know.
Whatever the thing was it would be the end of me if I let it near. It’s words triggered something in my head, a voice, almost like a hazy memory.
Time of death, 1:59 PM.
That's it until tomorrow, remember to hop on over to check out the other participant's offerings as well. And come back tomorrow for my dark poetry corner.
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