Arrow Rock Literary Journal

“Small towns tend to have big rumors, Nathan Jr,” Farmer Henry stopped and positioned his shoulders to look at his young new farmhand. “But in this case I reckon they’re right.” His chest heaved with a laugh, and Nathan Jr. drew an eyebrow up in concern.  

“You look stiff Mr. Henry, are you alright?”  

Farmer Henry shook him off and continued on. “Oh I’m alright, that’s why I need your help. I hurt my back falling off a ladder the other day and haven’t been right since, anyway, let’s get some things straight here, alright?” Nathan Jr. nodded in agreement, peering over the farmer’s shoulder into the cornfield. 

“This cornfield has been producing the best corn in the area ever since my great grandfather started this farm. Now I’m not a stubborn man so I’ll let you go in and grab some to take home any day you want, but do not go near the scarecrows. 

Farmer Henry stopped again, this time turning completely towards Nathan Jr. and put his gloved hands sternly on his shoulders. 

“This is very important Nathan, there’s something wrong with the scarecrows. They’re not mine and they won’t leave. Never go far enough into the cornfield on foot that you lose sight of the outside, and if a scarecrow is pointing somewhere, it isn’t trying to help you, run the other way. If you’re ever working on the farm and it seems like the day must’ve gotten away from you because it got dark too quickly, leave here immediately. Even if it’s the middle of the day and I see you leaving, I’ll know why and I won’t dock your pay for that day. Are you getting this so far?” Farmer Henry’s eyes were dilated to the point barely any white could be seen and a shiver was sent down Nathan Jr’s spine. His blood felt thick and useless inside him, and a pain in his stomach screamed for him to leave, but all he could do was nod. 

The farmer put a hand on Nathan Jr’s back and guided him to continue walking along the edge of the cornfield. “Now any other time of year it wouldn’t be much of a problem, but since we’ll be harvesting soon you should know that’s not all about the scarecrows, and if what you’ve heard so far is too much then I’d understand if you want to quit.” Farmer Henry slipped a sympathetic tone into his voice and his gaze dropped to the ground, Nathan Jr pursed his lips and studied the frailty of the older man, he decided he couldn’t leave him to this whole farm by himself. 

“No sir, tell me more about the scarecrows.” Farmer Henry’s eyes lit up once more and a smirk crossed his face. He provided Nathan Jr with a nod of admiration before looking into the distance, his smirk dropping into a neutral look. 

“The scarecrows don’t like it much when we harvest, but there ain’t much they can do about it either. They ain’t all the same in there, so if you ever come across one by accident, say you’re on the combine and the engine shuts off with a scarecrow in front of you, check it out first. If there are little x’s sewed on its face where eyes are supposed to be, just wait ten minutes before starting up the combine again, it’ll try and point you in a certain direction but you’ll just go the opposite way, even if it’s pointing in the direction you were about to go, just turn around quick as you can and move along.” 

Farmer Henry slowed as he noticed Nathan Jr had dropped his pace and was warming his hands in front of his mouth. “Is the cold not bothering your lungs Mr. Henry?” Nathan Jr. asked. A chuckle rose from the chest of the farmer. “You get used to it my boy.”  

“It feels like a knife is searing my insides.” Nathan Jr. remarked, although he also thought it was weird the farmer didn’t seem to breathe as much as he did, despite being an old man.  

“Anyways Nathan Jr, if you’re out on the combine or in the fields for any other reason and you see a scarecrow without a hat, just toss yours towards him. No matter how cold it is they’ll need it more than you do. If you don’t have a hat, pretend like you’re looking for one and that you’ll bring one back, but once you turn around do not look back. Leave and do not go back into the cornfield for the rest of the day no matter what. They don’t like when you lie.” 

“Are the hatless ones more or less dangerous than the ones with x’s for eyes.” Nathan Jr. let out an almost silent chuckle as he was starting to realize the farmer was just a crazy old man with stories, his heart felt as if it was lifting. “We haven’t even seen any scarecrows.” 

“Don’t belittle me like that, boy.” Farmer Henry hissed at Nathan, a pulsing vein radiating through his clenched jaw. Nathan winced at the sudden snap of the farmer. “I’m sorry sir.” He eked out between breaths. 

“And the answer is, it doesn’t matter, by the way.” The farmer let out one more aggravated huff before continuing. “If you ever see a scarecrow with eyes, not buttons, not x’s. We’re talking human or lifelike eyes, there’s only one thing that could save you.” The farmer continued walking but now in silence, Nathan Jr. walked stride for stride with the farmer for what felt like minutes, the wind whipping his cherry red cheeks until he shook his head in frustration of the suspense.  

“Well you can’t just end it on that. What could save me?” Nathan blurted. The farmer looked at him out of the corner of his eye.  

“Your name.”  

“What? How is my name going to save me from the ones with eyes?”  

“I mean, if they don’t know your name, there’s a possibility you can escape.” 

Nathan Jr. shook his head at the ground, his mouth gaping in disbelief. “Well what if they know my name? What do I do then?”  

Nathan felt a vein pounding in his neck all the way up to his ears, feeling like it might explode and his breath quickened. He looked up with an escaping gasp, the overcast sky seemed to be getting darker, maybe slightly quicker than usual.  

“Nathan Jr. that’s a name after your papa right? I never knew him well, but if I recall his name isn’t really Nathan. The scarecrows don’t like liars, Nathan.”  

“It’s not a lie, Nathan is my middle name.” He scoffed. 

“Well you’re a strong man with a job now, better get used to going by your first name.” The farmer’s head moved fluidly forward, contrasting the writhing of his torso as they moved further along the perimeter. Nathan Jr. took notice, but ignored the existential dread ruminating in his stomach.  

“Farmer Henry, you’re not” He paused, unsure of how to say it. “You’re not one of them, are you?”  

The farmer let out a raspy laugh. “You ever seen a scarecrow? Only crows would think they look this lifelike. It’s improper not to use a first name, just a rule I have at the farm.” His tone lightened and a warm smile covered his face. 

“Oh, ok. Well I hate my first name, my momma only calls me Bill when she gets mad, nobody uses it other than that.”  

Nathan Jr. took three more strides, but a dull ringing rose into a deafening tone through his ears and felt as if it was draining the blood from his body. The crunching of brittle grass and sticks beneath him was suddenly heard, and he noticed for the first time the wind stopped howling.  

The farmer’s grim voice pelted his ears as if there were three of him echoing one another. 

“Hey Bill? You were right.”  

Quiet whispers of Nathan’s first name began calling to him from within the corn. Man-like silhouettes creeped into view from within, covered by an eerie fog. 

“God dammit no!” A blood curdling yell echoed from the house, and an older man came hobbling quickly towards the boy and the contorted figure pointing into the cornfield. Nathan Jr. turned towards the new arrival, his eyes dilated, barely revealing any whites of them left. “Farmer Henry.” He mumbled before slowly turning towards the corn, and slowly walking in. The whispers rose in volume with every step he took. 

“God damn you!” Farmer Henry reached the corn just as Nathan Jr. disappeared in its grasp. He collapsed to the ground, pounding the hardened soil with his fists. Farmer Henry sobbed and pleaded into the soil, and yet before him was only a scarecrow.  

---

Chaz Casey is a senior at Lindenwood University who competes in track and field and minors in creative writing. He first took up writing as a young child and has since cultivated his hobby into multiple 200-page rough drafts and was published in the 15th edition of Arrow Rock with a story titled, “A Solemn Night.”