That Night at Grandpa's (And Other Scary Stories)

The Corn Ghost

How do I describe the Corn Ghost? Well, I was quite young, six or seven, when I first saw it. I never thought then that many years later my children would also see it.

I was visiting friends of my mother's, a family whom I had never met before. Their entire house and front yard setback into a cornfield. The corn stood about six-feet tall and the sun had already disappeared behind the tassels. This darkened the farmhouse, even though the sky was still bright. With the arrival of twilight, a whispering wind came from the west. I can still remember the long leaves of the corn waving, making a hypnotic scuffling sound, almost musical.

Agatha, the friend's daughter, mentioned, "Has anyone seen the Corn Ghost recently?" My mother shrugged her shoulders and became as wide-eyed as I was. Agatha invited me to sit on the kitchen sink to see if the spook would show up. Then she left.

I looked out the window over the pool and into the field of corn. Each breeze seemed to release a mystery the trembling leaves knew--something ghostly is inside our rows tonight! The tassels swayed the warning, "Do not enter!" I scanned the lines of stalks, but saw nothing. With each search, the corn turned a darker green.

The sun was almost gone.

I saw something that almost made me fall into the sink. A white pointy-head rose above the dark green and yellow.

Was it just the reflection of the sun on the window? I had to be sure. I moved to see more. This time I did slip. Blast. I got my arm wet from the water in the sink. After sliding off the counter to the floor, I jumped repeatedly to get a glimpse of that pointy-head. Arms helped me back to the window.

Where was it?

There! The ghost rose then shook as it marched.

Would it show itself? What would it look like out of the field? Would it come to the kitchen window? Too many questions.

Then it was gone.

A little while later, Agatha emerged, looking like she had just taken a shower. I kept peeking out the window until we left for the car. Then I stared out the rear window as we drove away.

###

Fast-forward thirty years.

Our family lived in a parsonage in Kokomo, Indiana. One night we were enjoying the cool evening with the kids for a game of kickball. Once over, a campfire awaited us to make s'mores together.

Back in the corner of the lot, where the end rows of corn met, the pointy-headed Corn Ghost resurrected. Stepping from the field, it performed a ten-second haunt and then was gone.

But where? I soon found out.

Each day that week, my children told me how they had dreamed about a ghost from the cornfield. Each child heard something on the stairs, saw shadows moving in the hallway, and watched as a ghost walked past.

Our five-year-old daughter spoke about its nose.

"It has a nose?" I asked.

"It is pointy ... like its head. It looks like a crooked stick."

"That's freaky," I said to my wife.

"And it smells like stinky feet that stepped on rotten potatoes," my seven-year-old son said between bites of his PB&J. "But we aren't dreaming, Daddy. It really comes into our house."

"Super freaky," I mouthed to my wife.

She looked at some of the pictures the kids had colored that morning. "What is this?"

"A picture of daddy and the Corn Ghost," said my sweet little girl.

"I helped her draw the ghost over daddy," said my handsome little boy.

I grabbed the picture from my wife. A triangular white shape hovered over me as I lay in bed. The shape had eyes right above mine.

My eyes, defined by an X, made me hope I was just sleeping. There was an open window behind the bed, a crescent moon, and green cornstalks.

I had to ask, "Did you dream this, sissy?"

She shook her head.

I looked at my wife as I set the picture down. "You two are great artists ... too good!"

I was alone with the kids that night. My wife had gone out of town to a women's conference, so after tucking the kids into bed, and brushing my teeth, I locked every window and crawled into bed.

Chicken, I muttered.

I channel surfed, but was soon fast asleep. That is, until I felt

... a breeze from the bedroom window, and

... something cold against my nose.

I flattened myself against my bed and thought of the kids' picture.

I squeezed my eyes tight. I had never wished that I was blind before and I did not then either. A rattling noise taunted me to peek, but I resisted until it became too much.

I gripped the sheets in my hands and opened my eyes. The Corn Ghost hovered over me, just as the kids had colored. Only it hovered much closer, so close, I could see what was making the clinking sounds. Its long boney looking fingers rolled and knocked against its thumb. The noise sped up and so did my heart until I thought I would die from its racing.

With one great heave, I threw my arms up and yelled.

My bed sheet fluttered, returning to the bed, and the ceiling fan cooled the sweat on my chest. My children stood there at the foot of my bed staring over me and out the window.

The apparition has not visited again.

That is just fine with me.