The Scarecrow

Chapter Four

"I swear to you, Andrew, I saw it," a timid Marie said, keeping her voice quiet as she spoke. She and Andrew were stood in the kitchen, the bright morning sun piercing in through the cracked open windows. She held a cigarette, anxiously smoking it.

"The scarecrow?" Andrew asked, eyeing his wife carefully. As each night passed, he had to admit that something was wrong. And it all began when Simon found Frank Ford's scarecrow in their field.

Marie nodded quickly. "Yes. It was out in the field looking right at me. I found straw in the house. There's something going on, Andrew!"

Andrew stayed silent, sighing loudly. He rested forward on the dining table, eyes falling to stare at the wood. His mind was swimming with questions and worries.

"And that's not all," Marie then said, taking another draw of the cigarette, exhaling the smoke hastily. "Simon woke me up last night and said there was someone in his closet. I went and checked and there was nothing there, but when I turned the light off..."

Andrew looked up from the table, shivering ever so slightly. "What?"

"I heard a voice, Andrew. It said look again," Marie continued, fear washing over her delicate facial features. Her eyes were filled with panic and Andrew had never saw his wife scared like this.

"You heard what the police said; Frank phoned the priest before he killed himself and then Simon finds a discarded scarecrow," Marie then said. "Try and tell me this is a coincidence, Andy. Because it's not."

After a minute's worth of listening, Andrew finally spoke. "I'll get the priest out. See what he thinks of this."

Marie scoffed, dabbing out the cigarette on the crystal-clear ashtray. "Do you even believe me? Do you believe Simon?"

"Yes, Marie, I do," Andrew said, raising his voice as he slammed his fists onto the rickety table. "But one of us has to stay rational!"

"You're being naïve!" Marie shouted back.

Andrew opened his mouth but closed it, not wanting to pick a fight with her. Whatever was going on was working its way between them, making them turn against each other.

"I'm sorry for shouting," Andrew apologised. His tone regained the softness it normally had. "I didn't—"

"Just call the priest, Andrew," Marie replied as she walked away, "because whatever is happening to us probably isn't over." And with that she left the kitchen, leaving Andrew to his thoughts.

*

The sun shone down mercilessly; the air was dry and humid and almost suffocating. There was barely a breeze to the heat and it made the countryside feel all that more like a glasshouse.

"It's your time to find me, Si," Johnny said as he and his younger brother walked over to their cornfield, passing by their father's barn.

Simon shook his head. "Nope," he said, popping his lips at the end. "Last time I had to find you and it took me forever."

Johnny recalled back to their last game; he had hidden in the boot of his Dad's old broken truck as Simon hunted their entire farm for him. He chuckled to himself.

"So you did," he then said. "Alright squirt, go and hide." Simon threw his arms triumphantly before scampering away into the field, Johnny losing all sight of him after a few seconds as he disappeared beyond the crops. "Little shit."

Johnny counted to fifty in his head, briefly enjoying the moment's peace and quiet. "Right Si, I'm coming!"

He dashed into the field, glancing down at the ground as he followed his brother's footprints. Johnny chuckled to himself; Simon always made it too easy to be found.