Halloween Entries
Crows
by Mitch Nissen
Dawn. I can see my old house from here.
“Ow. Quit it.”
My parents had always told me not to play in the farmer’s crops. They said we had a big enough yard for me to run around in. And that I didn’t need to be going into his fields. They said I’d get lost. That I wouldn’t be able to find my way back.
We lived fifteen miles down the highway from Seward and then turned off down an old gravel road. Part way down the road the gravel ended and turned into dirt. On our way home about a mile down the highway on all sides of us were corn fields. The further we went the narrower the road became and the closer the corn got.
Nothing to look at but fields all the way home. If I looked out the window and stared at the rows of corn as they passed by I would get headaches. Mom told me not to stare but I still would. Sometimes I could only stare for a few minutes before I’d have to look away. Then there were times when I could stare all the way home but once we stopped I would get dizzy. During those times when I would stare every now and then I thought I would see things. Row after row of corn moving fast like a flipbook with never anything but corn on each page except for one. One page in a thousand going by so fast you weren’t sure if you really saw anything or if it was in your head. I could see them though. And they could see me.
We lived right off the road in a big two story house. We had a big yard with four trees, three in back and one in front. The big tree in back had a tire swing and, best of all, a tree house! I could see everything from up there. But there wasn’t much to see except the farmer’s crops. There were fields on three sides of our house and across the road was even more. Up in the tree house I could see for miles and miles but no matter how far I looked I only ever saw corn. And then there was his house too.
About half a mile away was the farmer’s house. His house was deep in the corn, his lane was about a half mile long running into the corn whereas ours was right off the road. Nothing but corn and two tall dead trees along his driveway. Then it would turn into an opening with a couple of old buildings. There was a hog shed but no hogs, a chicken coop with no chickens, and a couple more rickety sheds. There was an old windmill near the house with no top and behind the house was a shelterbelt of pine trees. Surrounding all his property were corn fields.
With all those buildings over there I still never saw him. I would spend entire evenings up in my tree house from after supper until dark and still not see anyone. The only people I ever saw were my parents, my older sister Crissy, and my dog Molly. My sister was always inside on the phone and never came out to play with me. Molly was kept chained up. So it was just me and them. The scarecrows.
“Eh! Stop it.”
They were hard to spot sometimes but they were there. The corn would grow so tall sometimes it would swallow them up but I knew they were still there. The more I would study the fields the more of them I would see. When we moved out here a couple months ago in the summer I counted three. Now by fall, as of last night my count was up to eight.
Each one was different. The ones that were skinnier were the older ones I assumed. Most of them were stickly with their pants and shirt barely hanging off their thin skeletal frames. I guessed the stuffing had fallen out of them over time. Their arms drooped down from their posts and their heads hung looking straight down hiding their faces. Their clothes seemed to shrivel and wrinkle more with each passing day. These ones didn’t scare me. It was the newer ones that gave me nightmares.
They stood tall above the corn stalks with their faces looking straight ahead, their heads at a slight tilt to the side. They had messy stitching for mouths and black buttons for eyes sewn onto dirty old burlap sacks. One had a straw hat while the rest showed stitching all the way down their heads. They were stuffed so well they filled the shirt and pants. You could always spot them because of a few things; how well they were stuffed, the crows wouldn’t leave them alone, and their eyes. Whether their eyes were messy stitches or black buttons, they would follow you wherever you would go.
I couldn’t ever play in view of the newer ones until a few weeks had gone. By then enough crows had pecked them apart that their heads began to sag like the old ones. But for those first few weeks I could swear they were looking at me and my house. Day after day I would hide in my tree house waiting for them to stop looking at me. A couple would show up every now and then. I didn’t play in the yard much last summer. Still with all the new ones I never saw the farmer putting them up.
Living this far out of town made it hard to have friends over or go to their houses. All I had were the scarecrows. I made names for them all and had mapped out the area around me on a piece of paper. Using the scarecrows as markers I mapped a route through the field so if I ever got lost that I could find my way back. My house and the dirt road ran along one side with the farmer’s house on the other. Which ever scarecrow I would find I would know exactly where I was.
Patch was the scarecrow in the middle. From him I could find Droopy and from there I could make my way over to Seams. If I followed Seam’s right arm it would take me straight back home. If I ever met up with Straw Man I was closer to the farmer’s house and closer to him. Of all the scarecrows there was one I hoped never to meet. From my tree house using my binoculars I could just see him. He was way back behind the farmer’s house hiding in the trees in the shelterbelt. I called him Mr. Grin. He had a dirty brown button-up shirt and was wearing a pair of overalls with a straw hat on his head. The hat covered most of his face except for a jagged smile just underneath the brim.
I had hoped I would never have to use my map until last night: Halloween. I was supposed to get a ride into town from Crissy to go trick or treating. Mom and Dad were gone at some party. But Crissy left before I finished getting ready. I walked out on to the porch to see the red tail lights disappearing into the distance, the car tires kicking up dust as they sped away. Just me and Molly alone at home on Halloween.
“Ahh. Stop.”
I camped out in my tree house watching all night waiting to catch a glimpse of the farmer. Late that night I saw my sister driving down the road. She turned down the farmer’s lane driving all the way down past the hog shed and up to the walk in front of the house. I got out my binoculars and watched my sister and four of her friends get out of the car. The headlights shone over the front of the house. They all grabbed rocks nearby and started throwing them at the house. I could hear them laughing and yelling. I heard a window shatter and then a light in the house came on. Before I could look back they were already in the car and turning around.
They sped back up the driveway. They got about halfway up and then my heart jumped as suddenly I saw a person standing in the lane ahead. All I could do was watch in silence as they swerved to the side and crashed head-on into one of the dead trees. At that moment it was as if everything stopped. My eyes stayed glued to the binoculars staring at the car, hoping and praying that they were okay. I waited for what felt like hours. No one moved in the car and no one came to check on them from the house.
I never wanted to go into the farmer’s fields. I grabbed my map, climbed down, and ran into the corn. I headed the way I thought was the fastest. Soon after going in I lost my way. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me because the corn loomed above me and I couldn’t hear anything except the crunching of the dry leaves. I ran and I ran. Suddenly my heart skipped as if Droopy had actually jumped out at me. He hung off his post over me. His arms dangled as if reaching for me and for the first time I could see his face. I didn’t want to see. I quickly looked away.
I catch my breath and pulled out my map. Patch was the next one I ran into. I followed the way his head leaned and soon ended up in the driveway near where the car was. I ran up to the car and saw the person they swerved from hitting. He stood still hanging off a post with straw bursting out of his clothes at the Seams.
“How did you get here?” I asked him.
I ran past Seams and over to the passenger side of the car. Crissy lay on the seat not moving a muscle. I opened the door and shook her awake. I got her up and out of the car but as we left I noticed something very wrong; Seams was gone. I grabbed her hand and we ran back into the corn. We ran and ran and ran. Then we came upon Straw Man, pieces of straw coming out of his waist, wrists, neck, and pant legs. It dawned on me right then and there that we had gone too close to the farmer’s house. All that went through my head was ‘Gotta find Patch! Gotta find Patch!’ The more we ran the faster my heart beat. Crissy didn’t make a sound and her hand felt cold and clammy. I didn’t look back to see if she was scared or okay.
We found Patch. From him we met Droopy. We ran. Suddenly we were face to face with Straw Man again. I got out my map and we went back the way we came toward Droopy and then to Patch again. We found Seams and followed the way his right arm pointed. I could see trees ahead and just like that we were out. But there were too many trees for it to be our yard. We ran into a clearing and my heart stopped. Hanging off a post in front of us, half shadowed, half lit by the moon, and smiling, was Mr. Grin. I couldn’t take my eyes away as I felt them open wider and wider. Crissy gripped my hand tighter. A rustling sound behind me pulled me away. I turned around only to come face to face again with Straw Man. I moved to the side and saw Patch. On the opposite side of him I noticed Stitches and Twigs. Droopy and Rickets stood next to each other across the way. Everywhere I turned there they were. I looked to Crissy for help only to see that her mouth had been sewn shut and two black buttons had been stitched into her eyes. I turned the only way I could, back towards Mr. Grin. Like the sound of snapping branches Mr. Grin lifted his head and looked at me…
“Oww. Go away.”
Dawn. I can see my old house from here. Mom and Dad are home.
“Ow.”
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