All Hallows Eve

By Rockwell P. Stonehenge

 

Ghosts. You kids these days don't know from ghosts. I seen ghosts in my time. Not the cute and cuddly ones like Casper, I'm talkin' about ghosts that are out for blood. Vengeance from beyond the grave, and all that stuff. They can take any form, inhabit any object.

Now, I don't know where they come from, or what makes them hang on to this world instead of going on to the next, but I can tell you a little about how dangerous they can be.

It was 1935, and I was a fine specimen of southern farm boy. I was at the ripe old age of fifteen. Hell, I thought I knew everything back then. Juniper County hadn't been much different. There weren't no video stores, or McDonald's, but it was still home. And in my eyes, the world seemed like a huge place. A place where anything could happen.

I was working on my daddy's farm as usual. I worked there every day after school, and the whole summer long. That was just the way it was back then. We didn't have no summer camps or let our kids hang around and do nothing all summer. We were put to work.

It was early fall. October 29th to be exact.

The back field of our farm was seventy-five acres big. It had been pretty dry that season, and it looked like the corn wasn't going to yield much. The wheat might make it, if we were lucky. All that was doing good was the squash and pumpkins.

Because of the draught, a lot of the animals were getting antsy… and so were the dead.

We had a scarecrow in the field. A big scary one. I always felt a little uneasy about being around it. I would have nightmares about it climbing down from its perch and coming into the house to kill me. Little did I know, I wasn't too far off.

Every morning I would start in the barn feeding the animals and all that other farm stuff. Then I'd head off to school. After school I would head to the back field and tend the corn. Same routine every day.

It was just about dusk when I was heading back home for dinner one day when I saw something move out the corner of my eye. I looked in that direction, but all that was there was the scarecrow. I could swear it used to face the other direction, but now it was looking straight at me. I ran home so fast I almost couldn't stop when I got to the house. I almost broke through the front door. I told my daddy what happened, and he told me I was crazy, and to get away from him before he gets his belt. Well, I knew what that meant, so I dropped the subject. By the next day, I had almost completely forgotten about it.

The next night, though, I saw it move again. This time I was looking straight at it. I saw it kind of lurch on the pole like it was trying to climb off.

I ran home again, but this time didn't tell my daddy. I spent the whole night in the barn with a pitchfork in my hand waiting for that thing to come after me.

The next night I decided to face my fears.

After school I took the pitchfork with me out into the cornfield. I left it where I was workin', and when it was time to head home I picked it up again.

I saw the scarecrow kind of shakin'. It looked like it really wanted to get off of that pole so it could come kill me. I steadied that pitchfork, and walked right up to it.

As I got up there I heard it speak. I almost turned and ran when it did. It spoke in a high pitched, squeaky kind of voice that I'll never forget as long as I live.

"Booo."

In my loudest voice I screamed, "Why do you want to kill me?"

It said, "hooo?"

So I replied, "Me. Rockwell P. Stonehenge!"

"Ooo." It cooed as it continued to shake.

"You'd better leave me alone Mr. Scarecrow, or I'll send you back to hell. I have no problem with that." I yelled.

"Trooo." It said.

"You'd better believe it's true."

I decided to find out where it came from. I wanted to see if it could be talked out of killin' me.

"Are you an ancient spirit?" I asked.

"Nooo."

"New, huh? Are there a lot of you around here?"

"Fooo." It replied as it thrashed around.

"Just a few, eh? Well now there's gonna be one less!" I yelled as I jammed the pitchfork in its gut.

It was tough, but I was able to pull the scarecrow down off its perch. Once I had it on the ground it started shakin' and shutterin' all over again. It looked like it was tryin' to stand up. So I just kept stabbing it over and over with the pitchfork until I had almost completely opened it up. There were bits of clothes and stuffing flyin' all over the place.

Finally, I saw the actual spirit, or essence of the ghost break free and fly away. It looked like the biggest, scariest demon from hell I've ever seen. Small round head, big black wings, and eyes like green saucers. It actually turned its head all the way around to look at me (like in that Exorcist movie). As it flew away, it called out, "Kooo."

I've never been able to figure out what that meant. And it's haunted me until this very day. I still get jittery around scarecrows, and dread Halloween more than anyone. Even the stuff that happened to me in the war didn't leave this kind of mark on me. Someday I'll be able to look a scarecrow in the face and have no fear whatsoever. Someday, but not now.

 

-10/30/97

 

If you have any questions, E-Mail me. Spat@spat-nospam-cave.com