Page 12 of Curses and Cornstalks
I open my mouth to call out again, as it’s the only part of me that’s able to move, but another groan cuts me off. It’s the same long, deep groan as before, but this time.
Heart jumping into my throat, I burst into a sprint. I don’t pause to check which direction I’m headed. I simply throw my legs out as quickly as they’ll move and whip my way through the never-ending sea of stalks, determined to put as much distance between me and the groaner as possible.
My body is on fire. I haven’t run since gym class, so my thighs ache from the sudden exercise, and my lungs burn with every huff of cold air. Without the adrenaline coursing throughmy veins, I’d probably pass out, but the energy keeps me moving until I can’t run anymore. Even then, I push myself to keep going, gasping for air.
The sun has officially slipped out of view, disappearing behind the tops of the corn, and the blue sky overhead is gradually darkening as the minutes tick by. As the light diminishes, so does my hope, and I realize the chances of me sleeping in the cornfield are growing exponentially. If whatever is out there doesn’t find me first.
I’m running out of options, and my only plan is to keep running until I reach the end of the field.
There’s no telling where I’ll end up, but it’s better than being lost.
“Fuck my life,” I mutter under my haggard breath.
Who thought this was a good idea?
Oh, yeah. I did.
I’m such an idiot.
Following the dirt path before me, I attempt to keep a brisk pace to no avail. I’m exhausted. I need to stop and rest, but I don’t want to risk thatthingcatching up to me, whatever it is. When I was running, I didn’t hear anything chasing me, but that’s not to say it isn’t out there somewhere, stalking me.
I’m getting stalked in the cornstalks.
Yep. Definitely the plot to some B grade horror movie where the main character dies a gruesome death.
Up ahead, the scenery changes, and my heart skips a beat. The stalks are beginning to thin, the plants spread farther apart.
The exit.
Holy shit, I can hardly believe it.
Fucking finally!
I can hardly stand the excitement that engulfs me, and it gives me a new wind of energy as I head toward the end of therow. I’m so relieved, I don’t even care where the path lets out, as long as it’s outside the cornfield.
I’ll figure out what to do after that.
With a sigh of relief, I step past the last cornstalk and stop to admire my newfound freedom, my gaze sweeping around eagerly. I search for any sign of my blue Honda, knowing that it’s a long shot, but there’s no sign of it.
I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to come out in the same place as I entered, but a sickening realization hits me a moment later.
I haven’t found my way out.
I’m in a wide, circular clearing surrounded by cornstalks.
My stomach drops.
The ground is soft brown soil, and the center of the clearing is occupied by a single scarecrow tied to a wooden stake.
His clothes are worse for wear, a tattered red jacket covering a faded blue plaid shirt. His arms are stretched straight out from his sides, tied to the stake with several lengths of rope. He wears tattered jeans, black boots, and a wide-brimmed black hat on his head. Hay protrudes from beneath the hat like hair, and also from the seams of his clothes, the ends of his sleeves, and beneath the burlap sack that covers his face.
I take a step forward, studying the figure before me from head to toe, and it takes me a second longer than it should to note the pair of eyes glaring at me from the holes in the burlap. They’re dark and narrowed in my direction.
For a long moment, I think it’s a trick of the dimming light—those eyes look all-too-real to belong to an old scarecrow—but then he blinks.
Chapter Six
Cassie
