Turning from the casement, he wandered across the room and sank down into his comfortable, red leather chair. He’d been craving a dried apple pie for the past few weeks, and finally the season for it had arrived. Just thinking about it made his mouth water. Soon Hop Sing would bake a slew of autumn goodies, making the entire house smell of pumpkin, apple, and cinnamon. Soon it would be time for telling stories of ghouls, goblins, and witches by firelight. Soon the first frost would come, covering all beneath it in a glittering, icy blanket. Summer had finally released its stranglehold on the earth and was giving way to the beauty of autumn – the leaves evolving from rich green, to the reds, oranges, and golds of fall. Sighing in contentment, he lifted his glass and took a sip of brandy – savoring the warm, amber liquid as it burned a trail down his throat. The scarecrow could feel a tingle of magic running through his body and twitched a long, stick-like finger.īen Cartwright gazed out of the window, watching the sun as it set in all its fiery glory. With another croaking cry, the bird launched itself from its perch and took to the skies once more. Peering across the field, he spied a lone figure on horseback.
The sharp click of a hoof on stone brought the scarecrow out of his reverie.
Soon the curse would work its magic again as it always did, as it had for nearly a century. The corvus opened its beak and from its throat came a single, clarion call which the nearby mountains caught and reflected back again. It stood taller than the encompassing maize, giving the crow a clear view of its surroundings. Finding it, the bird sank lazily through the air only to alight upon the shoulder of a sad looking scarecrow that hung limply from a pole in the very middle of the field. A pair of intelligent, black eyes scanned the area, searching for the perfect place to perch. They revolved for only a moment before the breeze lost interest and moved on, letting them drift slowly back to earth.Ī crow circled the field, its sable body blotted out the crimson ball of the sinking sun for an instant as it continued its rotation. With icy fingers it plucked at a pile of fallen leaves that lay discarded in one of the rows between the stalks, sending them spinning in a whirlwind along with the heavy scent of mildew. Summary: A journey home turns into a nightmare that will never be forgotten.Ī chill wind slithered through the cornfield, sighing amid the plants and rattling the ears of Indian corn together like dead men’s bones.
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