مترسک شبگرد فصل 03

The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight - Chapter 3

“Ohhhh—it’s disgusting!” I shrieked.

“Gross!” I heard Mark groan.

The corn was a disgusting brown color. And it was moving on the cob. Wriggling. Squirming.

Stanley raised the corn to his face to examine it. And I realized it was covered with worms. Hundreds of wriggling, brown worms.

“No!” Stanley cried in horror. He let the ear of corn drop to the ground at his feet. “That’s bad luck! The book says so. That’s very bad luck!” I stared down at the ear of corn. The worms were wriggling off the cob, onto the dirt.

“It’s okay, Stanley,” I told him. “I only screamed because I was surprised. This happens sometimes. Sometimes worms get into the corn. Grandpa told me.” “No. It’s bad,” Stanley insisted in a trembling voice. His red ears were aflame. His big eyes revealed his fear. “The book—it says so.” “What book?” Mark demanded. He kicked the wormy ear of corn away with the toe of his high-top.

“My book,” Stanley replied mysteriously. “My superstition book.”

Uh-oh, I thought. Stanley shouldn’t have a book about superstitions. He was already the most superstitious person in the world—even without a book!

“You’ve been reading a book about superstitions?” Mark asked him, watching the brown worms crawl over the soft dirt.

“Yes.” Stanley nodded his head enthusiastically. “It’s a good book. It tells me everything. And it’s all true. All of it!” He pulled off his cap and scratched his stubby hair. “I’ve got to check the book. I’ve got to see what to do about the corn. The bad corn.” He was getting pretty worked up. It was making me feel a little scared. I’ve known Stanley my whole life. I think he’s worked for Grandpa Kurt for more than twenty years.

He’s always been strange. But I’ve never seen him get so upset about something as unimportant as a bad ear of corn.

“Show us the scarecrows,” I said, trying to get his mind off the corn.

“Yeah. Let’s see them,” Mark joined in.

“Okay. The scarecrows.” Stanley nodded. Then he turned, still thinking hard, and began leading the way through the tall rows of cornstalks.

The stalks creaked and groaned as we passed by them. It was kind of an eerie sound.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. One of the dark scarecrows rose up in front of us. It wore a tattered black coat, stuffed with straw. Its arms stretched stiffly out at its sides.

The scarecrow was tall, towering over my head. Tall enough to stand over the high cornstalks.

Its head was a faded burlap bag, filled with straw. Evil black eyes and a menacing frown had been painted on thickly in black paint. A battered old-fashioned hat rested on its head.

“You made these?” I asked Stanley. I could see several other scarecrows poking up from the corn. They all stood in the same stiff position. They all had the same menacing frown.

He stared up the scarecrow’s face. “I made them,” he said in a low voice. “The book showed me how.” “They’re pretty scary looking,” Mark said, standing close beside me. He grabbed the scarecrow’s straw hand and shook it. “What’s up?” Mark asked it.

“The scarecrow walks at midnight,” Stanley said, repeating the phrase he had used at the train station.

Mark was trying to slap the scarecrow a high-five.

“What does that mean?” I asked Stanley.

“The book told me how,” Stanley replied, keeping his eyes on the dark-painted face on the burlap bag. “The book told me how to make them walk.” “Huh? You mean you make the scarecrows walk?” I asked, very confused.

Stanley’s dark eyes locked on mine. Once again, he got that very solemn expression on his face. “I know how to do it. The book has all the words.” I stared back at him, totally confused. I didn’t know what to say.

“I made them walk, Jodie,” Stanley continued in a voice just above a whisper. “I made them walk last week. And now I’m the boss.” “Huh? The boss of the s-scarecrows?” I stammered. “Do you mean—”

I stopped when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the scarecrow’s arm move.

The straw crinkled as the arm slid up.

Then I felt rough straw brush against my face—as the dry scarecrow arm moved to my throat.