Page 13 of Curses and Cornstalks
In the impossibly longmoment it takes for me to process what I’m seeing, I question every ounce of my sanity. How can a scarecrowblink? Unless this isn’t just a scarecrow…
Did I just stumble upon someone being tortured?
Is this a crime scene?
The onslaught of questions keeps coming while the scarecrow and I stare each other down. He’s clearly immobile, restricted by the thick ropes binding him to the stake, but I get the feeling he’d lunge at me if he had the chance.
It’s something in his eyes—they’re cold and angry.
It’s best to keep my distance, just in case one of those ropes gives way.
“Come to pay the Watcher a visit, have you?” His twangy growl sends a chill racing down my spine.
Not only can he blink, but the son of a bitch can talk, too.
Wait.
Did he just call himself the Watcher?
Oh, shit.
He doesn’t wait for me to speak, continuing his diatribe, his tone more menacing with every word. “Come to set me on fire again? Shoot me? What makes you think you’ll succeed when so many have failed before you?”
“Wha—” The word dies on my tongue. I have no idea what this guy is talking about, but he obviously thinks I came here with an agenda, to harm him. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”
He chuckles, and his burlap sack-covered head tilts to the side.
I’ve completely abandoned my urgency to flee, but I remain glued to the spot. I’m intrigued, mesmerized, by this man, thisthing.
“No?” He laughs. “Why else would you trek where no one else dares to go? Are you brave or stupid? I’m inclined to say the latter.”
My eyebrows pinch together and lower over my eyes, but I stay quiet. I can’t exactly argue my intelligence when I got myself lost in a cornfield. Moments ago, I might’ve called myself brave, but not now.
Fear is an icy liquid racing through my veins, chilling me from the inside out, yet I can’t find it in me to turn and run.
I have too many unanswered questions to leave.
“Speak,” he demands, anger sharpening his voice. It’s still laced with an unmistakable southern drawl. “If you aren’t here to try and kill me, then tell me what you want. Depending on your answer, I might let you live.”
Let me live?
The man—scarecrow—is hardly in a position to be making threats, considering the restraints keeping him firmly in place, but if I don’t start answering soon, it’s only going to make him angrier.
Seeing as he’s the only other soul in this infernal cornfield, I might need his help to get out. Maybe if I set him free, we can both escape, but I need to get on his good side.
I also need to find out who he is, if he’s someone I should be setting free in the first place.
“I’m here to prove to my family that the Watcher isn’t real,” I answer, fighting to keep my voice steady.
The scarecrow laughs and, even with his limited mobility, his chest shakes with the sound.
“You silly girl,” he says, tsking his tongue. “Can you not see I am clearly real? Have you not heard the stories?”
“Yes, I’ve heard, but it hardly seems likely that you’re behind everything they claim.”
“Oh?” He cocks his head to the other side. “What makes you so sure of that?”
With an outstretched hand, I gesture to his current confinement. “For starters, it looks like you’re stuck here. How could you possibly be wreaking havoc all across Cold Springs?”
