Page 7 of Curses and Cornstalks
I don’t have the energy to explain that being a morning person is something I’ll never get used to, and that to adequately function, I need at least three more hours of uninterrupted sleep. Not to mention caffeine.
It might not be so bad if I hadn’t stayed up late listening through my cracked window for any signs of the Watcher. I’dstrained to hear screams or groans or anything that sounded out of the ordinary, but when I finally fell asleep around midnight, I hadn’t heard anything aside from a coyote in the distance.
Nothing scary.
Nothing haunting.
I was almost a little disappointed by the lack of evidence but considering I still don’t believe Cold Springs is really haunted, I’m not surprised. It’s a legend, nothing more, but it’s so deeply ingrained in Madelyn’s brain, she can’t separate the myth from reality.
It’s sad, but a strong tug in my chest reminds me I can help.
Maybe this is why I ended up on the farm after all: to help put an end to the Watcher superstition. I have to admit, playing a supernatural detective is more exciting than laying on a beach or trying my luck in Cali.
Definitely better than farm chores.
The barn is close enough to walk to, but thankfully, Madelyn cranks up the four-wheeler. I already don’t have the energy for chores, much less making the trek across the field and back, so I happily hop on behind her. Not to mention, riding a four-wheeler is something I’ve always wanted to do, but never had the chance to in the city. It’s exhilarating even though I’m tall enough to see straight over her head, and the frigid morning air bites at my cheeks as we speed across the grass.
I follow Madelyn’s lead with the chores, trying my best to take mental notes on where the feed is located and how much to give each animal. Then we’re off to shovel hay, gather eggs, and tend to a modest garden Aunt Bonnie grows in the field.
Sweat beads along my forehead, and my shirt sticks to my skin. I’m burning up despite the cold air when we finally head back to the house for breakfast.
“How is it not lunchtime already?” I huff as we climb the steps to the porch.
Madelyn giggles. “Because we were only out there for a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, well, it definitely felt longer?—”
A noise in the distance cuts me off. There’s no way to tell which direction it’s coming from, but it’s clear enough to stop me in my tracks. It’s a scream, ringing through the air, but it’s faint.
Distant.
Desperate.
Distraught.
My breath hitches, and my eyes lock with Madelyn’s.
“Do you hear that?” I ask, my pulse kicking up the longer the sound drags on.
She hesitates for a moment, and I can tell she’s trying to wipe the worry from her face. Her body is rigid, her jaw tight, when she replies.
“No,” she says. “And neither do you.”
Without another word, she grabs onto the sleeve of my hoodie and drags me inside, snapping the door closed behind us. My disbelief makes it impossible for me to react until we’re stepping into the dining room, where Aunt Bonnie is serving breakfast.
“Good morning, girls,” she says as she slides some scrambled eggs onto a plate. She probably didn’t hear the scream from inside—it wasn’t loud enough to make it through the walls—but the fact that she’s standing here so calmly shocks me. “Breakfast is ready.”
Finally, I regain my senses and wheel around on Maddie, her eyes widening with my movement.
“What do you mean I didn’t hear anything?” I blurt, eager to continue our conversation even though she seems determined to squash it. “I saw the look on your face. You heard it too.”
“No, I didn’t.” She shakes her head firmly.
Aunt Bonnie’s head snaps up at the commotion and she stops in her tracks.
“What did you hear?” she interjects.
I let my gaze slide over in her direction. “Someone screamed, but Maddie says she didn’t hear anything.”
