us?”
“ Whaddyamean?”
“ This guy, he’s dragging me down with all his warnings and rules.”
“ Randy is a decent guy, I want him here.”
“ Whatever man, I just wish he would relax.”
Dwayne glanced at Randy, who was watching him carefully. Dwayne broke into a grin, and Randy saw it again, that little glimmer of something sinister hiding within, that every now and again, came to the surface to check the lay of the land before it went back to wherever it came from.
They were out on the outskirts of town now, the lands here were rolling fields of green farmland, accentuated by the smell of cow shit, which lingered in the air all year round. The huge Oakwell Forest loomed ahead of them, a black ocean of treetops stretching for miles. Suddenly, and without warning, Dwayne slammed on the brakes, the car fishtailing as it struggled to stop, leaving great dark lines on the asphalt.
“ What is it, what’s going on?” Kenny mumbled as the car came to a halt and Dwayne switched off the engine. Kenny’s question was ignored. Dwayne was staring out the window, and Randy watched him carefully, wondering why he was getting that nervous feeling in his stomach that he usually got right before a big wrestling match.
“ What’s up man?” Randy asked, looking out of the window to try and see what had been so important as to stop and stare. He could see nothing but the road, shrinking away into a thin vein which draped over the horizon. Without the throaty growl of the engine, there was a thick silence, broken only by the monotonous sound of the crickets as they sang to each other. Randy flicked his eyes towards Kenny, and now he too looked a little more apprehensive as he sat perched in the middle of the back seat.
“ Dwayne, what is it, what’s wrong?” Randy asked again. Dwayne didn’t answer.
They sat in silence, listening to the crickets and looking up into the sky at the stars. Without warning, Dwayne turned and looked at Randy, the small smile transforming into a grin, which Randy thought belonged to the hidden thing that lived somewhere deep inside his friend.
“You guys ever hear of Jorell Samsonite?”
“ Who?” Kenny asked as he let out a boozy burp.
“ Jorell Samsonite,” Repeated Dwayne.
“ I have heard the name, not sure who he is though.” Randy said, watching his friend and liking what he saw less and less by the minute.
“ He’s a farmer, lives out here on the edge of town.” Dwayne said, reverting to that wistful smile. “They say he’s a recluse, a hermit. He hasn’t left his house since his wife died back in 57’, lives off the land and all that shit.”
“ What about him?” Randy asked, unsure if it was a question he wanted answered. Dwayne continued.
“ Word is he’s crazy. You should see his house, all boarded up and broken, and that’s not even the best part.” Dwayne grinned, and in the dull glow of the moonlight, he looked just a little bit crazy. “He grows all his own food, he has these scarecrows. Only, he doesn’t just have one like any normal person. This guy has dozens of them.”
“ Bullshit.” Kenny said as he opened another beer and took a long drink.
“ No, it’s true. A buddy of mine drove out there and saw it for himself. He said the old guy gets really defensive, screams and shouts at anyone who goes anywhere near the house.”
“ Guy sounds like a loon.” Kenny said, then sat back in his seat and took another drink of his beer.
“ People say he talks to them,” Dwayne went on, “they say he stands out in his garden for hours and chats to the damn scarecrows like they were people.”
“ What does that have to do with us?” Kenny asked, and although he wasn’t the brightest bulb, or the sharpest tool, Randy thought that the question was the right one, and its answer would define how things were going to proceed. Dwayne licked his lips, and then flashed a wide grin over his shoulder.
“ I wanna go see for myself what the old
“ Whaddyamean?”
“ This guy, he’s dragging me down with all his warnings and rules.”
“ Randy is a decent guy, I want him here.”
“ Whatever man, I just wish he would relax.”
Dwayne glanced at Randy, who was watching him carefully. Dwayne broke into a grin, and Randy saw it again, that little glimmer of something sinister hiding within, that every now and again, came to the surface to check the lay of the land before it went back to wherever it came from.
They were out on the outskirts of town now, the lands here were rolling fields of green farmland, accentuated by the smell of cow shit, which lingered in the air all year round. The huge Oakwell Forest loomed ahead of them, a black ocean of treetops stretching for miles. Suddenly, and without warning, Dwayne slammed on the brakes, the car fishtailing as it struggled to stop, leaving great dark lines on the asphalt.
“ What is it, what’s going on?” Kenny mumbled as the car came to a halt and Dwayne switched off the engine. Kenny’s question was ignored. Dwayne was staring out the window, and Randy watched him carefully, wondering why he was getting that nervous feeling in his stomach that he usually got right before a big wrestling match.
“ What’s up man?” Randy asked, looking out of the window to try and see what had been so important as to stop and stare. He could see nothing but the road, shrinking away into a thin vein which draped over the horizon. Without the throaty growl of the engine, there was a thick silence, broken only by the monotonous sound of the crickets as they sang to each other. Randy flicked his eyes towards Kenny, and now he too looked a little more apprehensive as he sat perched in the middle of the back seat.
“ Dwayne, what is it, what’s wrong?” Randy asked again. Dwayne didn’t answer.
They sat in silence, listening to the crickets and looking up into the sky at the stars. Without warning, Dwayne turned and looked at Randy, the small smile transforming into a grin, which Randy thought belonged to the hidden thing that lived somewhere deep inside his friend.
“You guys ever hear of Jorell Samsonite?”
“ Who?” Kenny asked as he let out a boozy burp.
“ Jorell Samsonite,” Repeated Dwayne.
“ I have heard the name, not sure who he is though.” Randy said, watching his friend and liking what he saw less and less by the minute.
“ He’s a farmer, lives out here on the edge of town.” Dwayne said, reverting to that wistful smile. “They say he’s a recluse, a hermit. He hasn’t left his house since his wife died back in 57’, lives off the land and all that shit.”
“ What about him?” Randy asked, unsure if it was a question he wanted answered. Dwayne continued.
“ Word is he’s crazy. You should see his house, all boarded up and broken, and that’s not even the best part.” Dwayne grinned, and in the dull glow of the moonlight, he looked just a little bit crazy. “He grows all his own food, he has these scarecrows. Only, he doesn’t just have one like any normal person. This guy has dozens of them.”
“ Bullshit.” Kenny said as he opened another beer and took a long drink.
“ No, it’s true. A buddy of mine drove out there and saw it for himself. He said the old guy gets really defensive, screams and shouts at anyone who goes anywhere near the house.”
“ Guy sounds like a loon.” Kenny said, then sat back in his seat and took another drink of his beer.
“ People say he talks to them,” Dwayne went on, “they say he stands out in his garden for hours and chats to the damn scarecrows like they were people.”
“ What does that have to do with us?” Kenny asked, and although he wasn’t the brightest bulb, or the sharpest tool, Randy thought that the question was the right one, and its answer would define how things were going to proceed. Dwayne licked his lips, and then flashed a wide grin over his shoulder.
“ I wanna go see for myself what the old
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