L.P. Madera
They said to never go into Mr. Davis’ cornfield because the entire land is cursed, but in this particular circumstance Marcus had no choice. Awakened at 2:45 AM to the sound of police banging on his apartment door coupled with the barking and growling of dogs, was enough to make anyone take the risk. He didn’t know why anyone was coming after him but he knew he had to run.
With nothing but a wifebeater, cargo pants, and his crocs, Marcus slid out the back door and flew to the cornfields behind the complex. Using his arms to shield his face, he crashed through the tall stalks for thirty minutes before stumbling upon the enormous, menacing creature standing proudly in the middle of the dense vegetation.
Like a magnificant statue, it towered ten feet off the ground, secured in place by a thick wooden stake. The oversized jeans and xxl flannel shirt were packed full of straw, and what Marcus assumed to be one of Mr. davis’ old hats was positioned atop a round, fleshy-looking head. The eyes of the scarecrow were what captured his attention the most.
They were piercing black orbs about the size of ping pong balls and had a sheen to them that made them look almost alive against the fleshy skin. The eyes pierced into his soul and sent a shiver down his spine.
“Well, I’ll be.” he said as he inched closer. “you are one sorry-looking son of a bitch aren’t you? I think I’m gonna name you Randall.”
A shrill scream pierced the air followed by several snarls, high-pitched yips, and three gunshots jerking Marcus’ attention away from the scary beast. He bolted further into the cornfield with nothing but the dim moonlight to guide him for two miles. An intense stabbing pain pierced his sides with every breath and Marcus slowed his running to a brisk walk before stopping completely. He winced at a sharp, stinging sensation spread throughout his arms and his legs.
Looking down, his eyes widened at the sight of dark liquid oozing out of his skin and streaming down his exposed appendages. Some of it was smeared. Upon closer inspection, he discovered tiny gashes covering his whole body. The running and the fear from earlier made him immune to the lacerations left by the leaves of the corn. Now that the adrenaline had died down, it was all kicking in.
“Shit.” He mumbled as he took off his wifebeater.
He balled it up and used it as a rag to wipe the blood off his skin. Once he was finished, he tucked it into one of his pant pockets and checked his surroundings. Everything was quiet now. Almost too quiet. The kind of quiet that is so quiet its actually deafening. He jumped and his heart started racing when his eyes caught what stood in front of him.
Standing there looking at him, was another enormous gaunt figure. Could it be the same scarecrow from before? There’s no way that would have been possible unless he went in a complete circle. Marcus turned and peered at the ground around him and his skin went cold.
The trail he left was gone now. There was no sign of him trapsing through the corn at all. The only disturbed part of the field was this 7ft diameter circle he was standing in. Towering over him and giving a judgemental glare was the ten foot tall figure stuffed with straw from before. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead and he walked closer to inspect it.
The intense gaze coupled with furrowed brows and contorted features gave off a vibe of anger and disapproval.
“Well, howdy once again, Randall.” Marcus half-chuckled tipping his head in a mock salute.
He marched forward to the other end of the circle and took a glance at the stars to which he found the north star and began to follow it through the dense foliage. North would take him out of the field and the opposite direction of the town and the police. As he walked, he pondered why the police were at his apartment. Surely, it wasn’t due to the missing person’s case on that woman that disappeared a few weeks ago. According to the gossip in the appartments, she was on drugs and her boyfriend had supposedly disposed of her in a dispute. Still, he was to blame for all of the issues in that town. Part of the downside to being an ex con since his youth.
He wandered until a dense fog began to grow in the field and clouds began to block out the stars, covering his visual direction. He had to be close now. He had to be. He had been walking the same direction for a few hours. Though he could no longer see the stars, he still felt like he was going in the right direction. So much time had passed, he didn’t realize when he stumbled upon the same clearing from before coming face to face with Randall, the grotesque scarecrow.
His heart raced and he let out a quiet yell in disgust as he searched for his trail behind him and to his dismay found no trace once again of his wanderings through this seemingly endless cornfield.
He stopped for a moment in frustration and wonder.
“What the hell is going on?” he whispered to himself and spun in a circle to find his bearings.
He couldn’t have been lost. He knew exactly where he was going. Fog or not. He picked up the pace to a speed walk and then a run through the field until he ran out of breath and could no longer see due to the fog. As he stood in the tall stalks, his ears picked up a rustling to his right.
His body tensed. Balling his hands into fists, he stopped and held his breath as the rustling grew closer. He let out a small sigh when a raccoon came out of the stalks and obsered him with curiosity for a moment. They locked eyes before the furry creature ambled off to the left side of him.
He picked up the pace once again and began jogging through the rows, not caring where he ended up, just wanting to leave the corn field and get to somewhere other than here.
Maybe this place is cursed. He thought to himself before quickly shaking the thought from his mind and continuing forward.
As he trudged on, his ears picked up a scream sending him into a panic and into a full sprint. Not caring that the plant leaves were cutting into his bare skin, he ran like his life depended on it to get as far away from this place as he could.
The big toe on his left foot dug into the ground at an odd angle in his crocs causing his ankle to twist sideways and he went tumbling onto the ground. When he finally came to his senses and spit the dirt out of his mouth, his eyes picked up a shiny object in front of him. He extended his arm out and picked up the small, delicate item. It was a silver locket with a picture of two old people in it. His blood ran cold.
The woman from the town who had gone missing was wearing a locket just like this. But if her druggie boyfriend was the one who killed her, why was the locket here in the middle of this endless cornfield in the middle of nowhere. Why wasn’t she buried in a ditch somewhere just as everyone had predicted. His ponderings were cut short when he looked up to find the scarecrow looking back at him.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed. “Not you again!”
He stood up and wiped the dirt from himself and stared at the ugly creature once more. It’s menacing glare piercing his soul. The longer he looked at it, the more unsettled he became and he wondered how long he had been out here running in circles. It was still uncomfortably silent and the screams and shrieks of the officers and their dogs had Marcus wondering if they had been killed somehow.
He slowly backed away from the scary creature wanting nothing but to leave this place. He backed into one of the tall, green corn stalks and as it touched his skin, a sticky glue sensation took hold of his arms and shoulders. He flailed in a futile attempt to leave its grasp but it was no use. The leaves had glued themselves to him and he struggled as they continued to wrap around him tightly until he felt nothing and began to see in a tunnel vision.
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