lot in the beginning. The path was more of a cave through the brush at first. For the most part, he could stand up straight as he walked just fine. The summer’s heat and all the vegetation had made the air humid and heavy. He thought to himself how glad he was that he didn’t have allergies like his cousin. As he continued, the undergrowth got lower and started to lighten up. He started to see glimpses of the hill as he moved along. He didn’t know why but the closer he got an anxiety began to build within him. There was a bad feeling to this place and little by little it was getting worse. As he got closer to the hill, the ground became stony and there were fewer weeds. He could tell he was on a grade now and walking part of the hill you couldn’t see. Ahead, the open clearing on top was approaching fast.
He made it not more than a few feet out of the weeds and was standing maybe thirty feet from the Scarecrow, which stopped him in his tracks. It wore old work boots the color of dust. Its jeans were tattered which, like the shirt, were almost tissue thin where there weren’t holes. They flapped against a stick frame that gave the appearance of bones. Arms stretched out over a cross pole in a crucifixion like pose. Heavy rawhide work gloves hung at each arm‘s end. He couldn’t see more of the face than that it was stitched leather. The leather was the color of over tanned skin. Its head hung down, he could only see the side which consisted of one black socket and a sharp end of a twisted smile cut into the leather.
But it wasn’t its forbidding appearance that stopped him in his tracks, something was wrong. At first he thought it was just the wind. But then as incomprehensible as it was: William understood why he wasn’t supposed to come here. The scarecrow was moving. He was frozen with fear as he watched one arm unhook itself then untie the other, all the while its head remained down. The one black socket he could see seemed to be focused on William. Its limbs moved disjointed and inhuman, the elbows and knees bent both directions. It bent holding the pole with one arm and began untying its legs.
William broke through the paralysis and turned around. He bolted down the path almost tripping on stones. He had had a long day and his muscles were weak and his breath came in short gasps, but he ran as fast as he could. He didn’t know how fast that thing could move but he knew he had a good head start. As he approached the fence he had a feeling of relief. It lasted until he passed the last low hanging bows of the tree-like weeds. Sitting on the fence, just ahead, was the scarecrow. Its head was lying to one side like a creature with its neck broken; its hands were grasping the fence. Because of its overly long arms, its elbows were bent sharp and high looking like those of a marionette. William stopped, not sure what to do. He looked on in horror as the creature raised its head from its shoulder, both of its sockets affixed on William. The scarecrow’s mouth opened wide with thick strings of saliva, it let out a horrible screech.
William paused. There was no place to run but back the way he had come. Mid turn, he heard something like a flag flapping in the wind. At the same time a shadow swiftly moved over his head. William ran with the dread of knowing what was going to be waiting for him around the next corner. Seeing an opening in the brush he dived into it. Thorns and nettles scraped and stung his face and hands as he crawled. Unable to move very far, William pulled his legs up and went into a fetal position. He laid there wondering how long he should wait before making another run. His thoughts disappeared when something touched his leg. Looking down he watched the old dusty work glove tighten its grip around his ankle. It pulled his ankle with tremendous force. William flopped out of the bushes like a rag doll being flung around by a child. Under the creatures grip, bone began to crack. William screamed
He made it not more than a few feet out of the weeds and was standing maybe thirty feet from the Scarecrow, which stopped him in his tracks. It wore old work boots the color of dust. Its jeans were tattered which, like the shirt, were almost tissue thin where there weren’t holes. They flapped against a stick frame that gave the appearance of bones. Arms stretched out over a cross pole in a crucifixion like pose. Heavy rawhide work gloves hung at each arm‘s end. He couldn’t see more of the face than that it was stitched leather. The leather was the color of over tanned skin. Its head hung down, he could only see the side which consisted of one black socket and a sharp end of a twisted smile cut into the leather.
But it wasn’t its forbidding appearance that stopped him in his tracks, something was wrong. At first he thought it was just the wind. But then as incomprehensible as it was: William understood why he wasn’t supposed to come here. The scarecrow was moving. He was frozen with fear as he watched one arm unhook itself then untie the other, all the while its head remained down. The one black socket he could see seemed to be focused on William. Its limbs moved disjointed and inhuman, the elbows and knees bent both directions. It bent holding the pole with one arm and began untying its legs.
William broke through the paralysis and turned around. He bolted down the path almost tripping on stones. He had had a long day and his muscles were weak and his breath came in short gasps, but he ran as fast as he could. He didn’t know how fast that thing could move but he knew he had a good head start. As he approached the fence he had a feeling of relief. It lasted until he passed the last low hanging bows of the tree-like weeds. Sitting on the fence, just ahead, was the scarecrow. Its head was lying to one side like a creature with its neck broken; its hands were grasping the fence. Because of its overly long arms, its elbows were bent sharp and high looking like those of a marionette. William stopped, not sure what to do. He looked on in horror as the creature raised its head from its shoulder, both of its sockets affixed on William. The scarecrow’s mouth opened wide with thick strings of saliva, it let out a horrible screech.
William paused. There was no place to run but back the way he had come. Mid turn, he heard something like a flag flapping in the wind. At the same time a shadow swiftly moved over his head. William ran with the dread of knowing what was going to be waiting for him around the next corner. Seeing an opening in the brush he dived into it. Thorns and nettles scraped and stung his face and hands as he crawled. Unable to move very far, William pulled his legs up and went into a fetal position. He laid there wondering how long he should wait before making another run. His thoughts disappeared when something touched his leg. Looking down he watched the old dusty work glove tighten its grip around his ankle. It pulled his ankle with tremendous force. William flopped out of the bushes like a rag doll being flung around by a child. Under the creatures grip, bone began to crack. William screamed
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