مترسک شبگرد فصل 22

The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight - Chapter 22

I cried out and tried to pull away.

But the scarecrow held on to me tightly.

“Sticks—is that you?” I cried in a trembling voice.

No reply.

I stared into the blank, painted eyes.

And realized there were no human eyes behind them.

The straw hands scratched against my throat.

I opened my mouth to scream.

And the door to the guest house swung open. “Sticks—” I managed to choke out.

Sticks stepped out onto the small stoop. “What on earth—!” he cried.

He leaped off the stoop, grabbed the scarecrow by the coat shoulders—and heaved it to the ground.

The scarecrow hit the ground without making a sound. It lay sprawled on its back, staring up at us blankly.

“Who—who is it?” I cried, rubbing my neck where the straw hands had scratched it.

Sticks bent down and jerked away the burlap scarecrow head.

Nothing underneath. Nothing but straw.

“It—it really is a scarecrow!” I cried in horror. “But it—walked!” “I warned you,” Sticks said solemnly, staring down at the headless dark figure. “I warned you, Jodie.” “You mean it wasn’t you?” I demanded. “It wasn’t you trying to scare Mark and me?” Sticks shook his head. He raised his dark eyes to mine. “Dad brought the scarecrows to life,” he said softly. “Last week. Before you came. He used his book. He chanted some words—and they all came to life.” “Oh, no,” I murmured, raising my hands to my face.

“We were all so frightened,” Sticks continued. “Especially your grandparents. They begged Dad to recite the words and put the scarecrows back to sleep.” “Did he?” I asked.

“Yes,” Sticks replied. “He put them back to sleep. But first he insisted your grandparents make some promises. They had to promise not to laugh at him anymore. And they had to promise to do everything he wanted from now on.” Sticks took a deep breath. He stared toward the guest house window. “Haven’t you noticed how different things are at the farm? Haven’t you noticed how frightened your grandparents are?” I nodded solemnly. “Of course I have.”

“They’ve been trying to keep Dad happy,” Sticks continued. “They’ve been doing everything they can to keep him from getting upset or angry. Your grandmother fixes only his favorite food. Your grandfather stopped telling scary stories because Dad doesn’t like them.” I shook my head. “They’re that afraid of Stanley?”

“They’re afraid he’ll read the chant in the book again and bring the scarecrows back to life,” Sticks said. He swallowed hard. “There’s only one problem,” he murmured.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well, I haven’t told Dad yet. But…” His voice trailed off.

“But what?” I demanded eagerly.

“Some of the scarecrows are still alive,” Sticks replied. “Some of them never went back to sleep.”