Page 8 of Curses and Cornstalks
“Oh that,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It was probably just a crow. Their cries sound awfully like screams, you know.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the words die in my throat.
I know what I heard, and it wasn’t a damn crow.
It was someone screaming—they sounded like they were in pain.
“And if it wasn’t?” I ask, hoping for a better explanation.
Aunt Bonnie isn’t inclined to give me one and simply smiles. “It was just a crow, Cassie. Now, why don’t you girls go wash up so you can eat. I bet you’re starving.”
Heat burns my cheeks, and I turn on my heel to head upstairs, irked no one will listen to me. At least Aunt Bonnie tried to come up with a believable excuse, rather than gaslighting me like Madelyn. There’s no telling what Uncle Wayne would say, but I decide not to bring it up again at breakfast.
None of them are going to give the answers I seek, and the best way to discover the truth is to find out for myself.
I wash up and head back downstairs, wondering if I’d be allowed to take the four-wheeler out for a ride, or if I’m going to have to drive my car all the way to the forbidden cornfield.
Chapter Four
Cassie
It’shard to feel tiny when you’re five foot ten, but standing at the edge of a cornfield does the trick. A solid wall of cornstalks stretches several feet over my head, making me feel like a child, as I try to get my nerves under control.
It took a few days of planning and harvesting my courage to get to this point, but now that I’m here, I’m quickly losing faith in my plan.
Before I left the house, it sounded foolproof. Now, it just seems like a haphazard plot to a cheap horror movie.
Is this how I die? Being too curious for my own good?
I collected a myriad of supplies from the farm that I might need for this excursion, all based on survival shows I’ve watched over the years and a quick internet search. Drawing as little attention to myself as possible, I filled an old backpack and chucked it into the backseat of my car, prepared for the first opportunity I got to wander out on my own.
I was patient—possibly for the first time in my life—because if anyone knew what I was up to, they would have tried to stop me. Not that there was anything they could do, aside frombarricading me in my room, but I knew they’d be upset that I was searching for the Watcher.
Getting kicked out of the house and having to find somewhere else to stay in less than a week is not on my to-do list, so keeping my mission a secret was crucial.
Do not engage with the Watcher.
Madelyn’s voice replays like a ghostly warning in my head, but I ignore it. The Watcher isn’t real, and there’s no reason to be afraid. There has to be a rational explanation for the things happening in Cold Springs, and I’m determined to piece the puzzle together.
This is just an old, abandoned cornfield, and once I can prove it, everyone will be better off.
That thought drives my confidence and keeps me going.
I’m doing this to help.
I’m going to help.
I can feel it from the pit of my stomach to the tips of my toes: this is what I’m supposed to be doing.
My mind briefly flicks to the scream we heard on the porch a few days ago, like it’s making a last ditch effort to talk itself out of this situation. I still have no explanation for the noise, but I haven’t heard anything else like it since arriving in Cold Springs. No other screams, no unusual animal noises.
Maybe Aunt Bonnie was right after all.
Maybe it was just a rogue crow that flew too close to the house and spooked us.
Shaking my head, I stop wasting time and sling my backpack off my shoulder to do a final assessment of my supplies. A pocket-knife and my neon pink taser are both tucked into my back pockets just in case—I didn’t work up the courage to borrow or steal a weapon from Uncle Wayne. Hopefully, one of the two will do the job in a worst-case scenario.
Inside my bag, I’ve stuffed a blanket, even though the hoodie I’m wearing shields me from most of the icy air, a flashlight, a compass, and a hefty bottle of water. I’ve even packed snacks, although I don’t plan on being out here for longer than a couple of hours. It’s easy to get disoriented in a forest of stalks, and I’d rather take my chances with the Watcher than risk starving to death.
