مترسک شبگرد فصل 06

The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight - Chapter 6

Under the light of the full moon, I stared in horror as the dark scarecrows started to move.

Their arms jerked. Their burlap heads lurched forward.

All of them. In unison.

All of the scarecrows were jerking, twitching, straining—as if struggling to pull free of their stakes.

“Mark—hurry!” I screamed.

I heard footsteps clomping rapidly down the hall. Mark burst breathlessly into my room. “Jodie—what is it?” he cried.

I motioned frantically for him to come to the window. As he stepped beside me, I pointed to the cornfields. “Look—the scarecrows.” He gripped the windowsill and leaned out the window.

Over his shoulder, I could see the scarecrows twitch in unison. A cold shudder made me wrap my arms around myself.

“It’s the wind,” Mark said, stepping back from the window. “What’s your problem, Jodie? It’s just the wind blowing them around.” “You—you’re wrong, Mark,” I stammered, still hugging myself. “Look again.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. But he turned back and leaned out the window. He gazed out at the field for a long time.

“Don’t you see?” I demanded shrilly. “They’re all moving together. Their arms, their heads—all moving together.” When Mark pulled back from the window, his blue eyes were wide and fearful. He stared at me thoughtfully and didn’t say a word.

Finally, he swallowed hard and his voice came out low and frightened. “We’ve got to tell Grandpa Kurt,” he said.

We rushed downstairs, but our grandparents had gone to bed. The bedroom door was closed. It was silent on the other side.

“Maybe we’d better wait till tomorrow morning,” I whispered as Mark and I tiptoed back upstairs to our rooms. “I think we’ll be safe till then.” We crept back to our rooms. I pushed the window shut and locked it. Out in the fields, the scarecrows were still twitching, still pulling at their stakes.

With a shudder, I turned away from the window and plunged into the bed, pulling the old quilt up over my head.

I slept restlessly, tossing under the heavy quilt. In the morning, I jumped eagerly from bed. I ran a brush through my hair and hurried down to breakfast.

Mark was right behind me on the stairs. He was wearing the same jeans as yesterday and a red-and-black Nirvana T-shirt. He hadn’t bothered to brush his hair. It stood straight up in back.

“Pancakes!” he managed to choke out. Mark is only good for one word at a time this early in the morning.

But the word instantly cheered me up and made me forget for a moment about the creepy scarecrows.

How could I have forgotten about Grandma Miriam’s amazing chocolate chip pancakes?

They are so soft, they really do melt in your mouth. And the warm chocolate mixed with the sweet maple syrup makes the most delicious breakfast I’ve ever eaten.

As we hurried across the living room toward the kitchen, I sniffed the air, hoping to smell that wonderful aroma of pancake batter on the stove.

But my nose was too stuffed up to smell anything.

Mark and I burst into the kitchen at the same time. Grandpa Kurt and Stanley were already at the table. A big blue pot of coffee stood steaming in front of them.

Stanley sipped his coffee. Grandpa Kurt had his face buried behind the morning newspaper. He glanced up and smiled as Mark and I entered.

Everyone said good morning to everyone.

Mark and I took our places at the table. We were so eager for the famous pancakes, we were practically rubbing our hands together the way cartoon characters do.

Imagine our shock when Grandma Miriam set down big bowls of cornflakes in front of us.

I practically burst into tears.

I glanced across the table at Mark. He was staring back at me, his face revealing his surprise—and disappointment. “Cornflakes?” he asked in a high-pitched voice.

Grandma Miriam had gone back to the sink. I turned to her. “Grandma Miriam—no pancakes?” I asked meekly.

I saw her glance at Stanley. “I’ve stopped making them, Jodie,” she replied, her eyes still on Stanley. “Pancakes are too fattening.” “Nothing like a good bowl of cornflakes in the morning,” Stanley said with a big smile. He reached for the cornflakes box in the center of the table and filled his bowl up with a second helping.

Grandpa Kurt grunted behind his newspaper.

“Go ahead—eat them before they get soggy,” Grandma Miriam urged from the sink.

Mark and I just stared at each other. Last summer, Grandma Miriam had made us a big stack of chocolate chip pancakes almost every morning!

What is going on here? I wondered once again.

I suddenly remembered Sticks out in the cornfields the day before, whispering to me, “Things are different here.” They sure were different. And not for the better, I decided.

My stomach grumbled. I picked up the spoon and started to eat my cornflakes. I saw Mark glumly spooning his. And then I suddenly remembered the twitching scarecrows.

“Grandpa Kurt—” I started. “Last night, Mark and I—we were looking out at the cornfields and we saw the scarecrows. They were moving. We—” I heard Grandma Miriam utter a low gasp from behind me.

Grandpa Kurt lowered his newspaper. He narrowed his eyes at me, but didn’t say a word.

“The scarecrows were moving!” Mark chimed in.

Stanley chuckled. “It was the wind,” he said, his eyes on Grandpa Kurt. “It had to be the wind blowing them around.” Grandpa Kurt glared at Stanley. “You sure?” he demanded.

“Yeah. It was the wind,” Stanley replied tensely.

“But they were trying to get off their poles!” I cried. “We saw them!”

Grandpa Kurt stared hard at Stanley.

Stanley’s ears turned bright red. He lowered his eyes. “It was a breezy night,” he said. “They move in the wind.” “It’s going to be a sunny day,” Grandma Miriam said brightly from the sink.

“But the scarecrows—” Mark insisted.

“Yep. Looks like a real pretty day,” Grandpa Kurt mumbled, ignoring Mark.

He doesn’t want to talk about the scarecrows, I realized.

Is it because he doesn’t believe us?

Grandpa Kurt turned to Stanley. “After you take the cows to pasture, maybe you and Jodie and Mark can do some fishing at the creek.” “Maybe,” Stanley replied, studying the cornflakes box. “Maybe we could just do that.” “Sounds like fun,” Mark said. Mark likes fishing. It’s one of his favorite sports because you don’t have to move too much.

There’s a really pretty creek behind the cow pasture at the far end of Grandpa Kurt’s property. It’s very woodsy back there, and the narrow creek trickles softly beneath the old shade trees and is usually filled with fish.

Finishing my cereal, I turned to Grandma Miriam at the sink. “And what are you doing today?” I asked her. “Maybe you and I could spend some time together and—” I stopped as she turned toward me and her hand came into view.

“Ohhhh.” I let out a frightened moan when I saw her hand. It—it was made of straw!