Scarecrow

 

The corn swayed in the setting sun, golden and ready for harvest. Birds circled, flying close, yet never landed, choosing instead to sway away at the last minute. Feathers sat on the ground here and there from where a bird had come just a touch too close. Beyond the rows and rows of corn sat an orchard, filled with twisted apple trees.  

I fingered the forgotten pipe in my pocket, feeling the heavy magic that sat within it. Years had come and gone since I had found it in the fields a world away, miles from where it belonged. Even longer for me to track down the owner of it and find the story when none would dare speak of the thing that lurked in the corn.

The old dirt road wound through the cornfields, giving space to small houses here and there before closing in. A strange quiet was always settled over the crop, the only sound coming from the wind blowing between the long straight rows, making the corn sway and shiver. I stared up at the tall plants as I approached the border of the field, wondering if some supernatural force would pull me within to prevent damage to the crop.

As I stepped inside, nothing touched me but the soft leaves of the corn plants. I let my fingers brush against them as I began to move through the rows, carefully stepping between the plants to go to the next row and then the next. My hands bent the plants, pushing them gently so that I wouldn’t trip or break them.

Within the golden world of the corn, nothing could be seen but the plants themselves. Even the sky was slightly blotted out by tassels and leaves. Cobs hugged the plants, unpecked and perfect, the tips of them peeking out of the husks and growing beautiful yellow hair. A sickly sweet smell and the scent of dust hung in the air, clinging to my skin and hair with each step.

The smell thickened the further in I wandered, moving somewhat aimlessly towards the center of the field and closer to the apple orchard beyond. Above me a crow called, swooping low to dip near the corn. It made a choking startled noise as something strange and humanoid plucked dit from the sky with ease and gave the calming science back to the world.

My eyes looked through the field to where the dark shape had erupted, catching glimpses of some shadow moving swiftly. Feathers fell lazily to the ground yet no sound came from the creature. I paused, pushing aside a stalk to step closer.  

The creature paused, dropping the dead bird to the ground, and turned its head slowly to gaze back at the sound of my movement. I stood still, breathing pausing as we peered at each other through the gently blowing corn. It had no face I could see, but a straw hat that cast shadows over its being. 

A cloud rolled over the sun, casting us in darkness for a brief moment. I blinked, glancing upward at the fading light, then back down. The creature was gone, vanished without a trace or sound. 

I turned, glancing around to find wherever it had gone. Nothing but corn waited for me, seemingly closer and closing in than it was before. I stepped between the rows, moving to where the thing had been standing, and looked down at the bird, whose neck had been twisted to an unnatural angle.

The cloud rolled away, revealing the hint of sunlight that remained in the sky as it began to coast over the horizon and send us into darkness. On the ground were strange footprints, with hints of straw sticking into the tilled earth. I bent over, picking up some of the straw. It smelled of dust and dry plants, with hints of mold from being left in the rain.

Without waiting for more light, I followed them through the field. With increasing speed I moved down the rows until the creature had moved up one and then continued to run. It had never made a sound, nor broke a single stalk as it moved, leaving a neat trail of straw behind in its wake.

Rustling noises made me stop, happening a few rows over in the field. My eyes searched in the dark, looking for the thing I had seen earlier. Shadows were everywhere, seemingly causing the corn to shudder and rustle all around me. I sucked in a breath and turned, running back through the field towards where the creature had gone originally. 

The corn shook behind me as something followed me, making the stalks quiver as it approached. I didn’t dare turn to look behind me but kept moving forward, switching roots when I felt it come too close. 

My arms rose up in front of me,  shielding my face from the corn leaves that made small painful cuts against my face and neck with each step I took. The constant barrage of leaves made it impossible to know where I was going, or what was coming towards me. 

A shadow stepped out from the corn ahead of me, cutting off where I was running. We both stopped, staring at each other in the arriving night. Whatever was beyond it was what it didn’t want me to see. I raised a brow, a hint of a smirk on my lips, and pulled a knife from my pocket. 

The creature turned to fully face me, raggedy clothes now obvious. Bits of straw and twine peaked out from beneath the ratty fabric, holes and tears throughout. A sack was over its head beneath the hat, eye holes and a mouth cut out. Nothing but darkness rested beneath it, staging at me as though from a void.

I ran towards it, refusing to let the intimidation do more than stall me for a second. The creature steadied themselves, waiting for impact, arms reaching out as I neared them. My knife sliced through the corn stalks beside them, making them turn as I ran past. Hands grabbed to the corn stalks while my hand pulled on the back of their shirt.

“No, you’re done,” I said harshly, yanking them backward and slamming their straw body to the ground. 

They landed in a pile of dust and bits of straw. I looked over them, crouching behind them. The air made me wince to avoid coughing before I tugged him back and began to drag him through the corn towards the center. 

There stood a pole, empty, and I could hear the whispered truth of its purpose. The scarecrow struggled behind me, flailing on the ground as I approached. “Remember who you are,” I growled, heaving him upward t the pole.

He pawed at me, straw hands in gloves grabbed at my hair and chest as I lifted his body up on the pole. With a grunt I placed him on the nail, attaching his tattered shirt to the beam lodged in the ground.

I stepped back, looking up at him as he scrambled and flailed, arms moving wildly against me though he could not reach me. A simile touched my lips and we watched each other. Him in angry protest, me with knowing amusement. 

My head tilted. “This isn’t who you are. Murdering anyone or thing that comes near your fields. You know this.”

The sack face contorted into rage. “This is all I am good for. A thing. Unwanted. Forgotten here. Tasked with keeping the birds from the crops.”

I shook my head. “You have resigned yourself to tending crops. The villagers are grateful. But this has to stop.”

“What do you know, flesh?” he snarled at me. “You are nothing but another human, who thinks their world too precious for the likes of me.”

“You do love to hear yourself, don’t you?” I grumbled. I pulled a rope from my bag and moved, attaching each flailing scarecrow arm to each slide of the pole. “Perhaps if you were not so full in your loss you would see that more awaits you.”

“There is nothing for me. I am hideous.”

I grimaced, pausing as I bound one of his arms to touch his sack face. “That isn’t true. I’m sorry someone made you believe that.”

The scarecrow paused, head turned towards me in quiet consideration. 

As I tightened the final knot and plucked the whip from my bag, he waited, immobile, legs scrambling to find purchase on the wood. “You’re not getting out until you see who you are,” I said, letting the tail end of the whip drop from my hand.

“You’re weak,” he growled.

I flicked the whip up and then down against the pant leg of his worn clothing. The scarecrow groaned the tip of the whip cutting open the fabric. “You cannot hurt me.”

“No,” I replied, pulling the whip back and striking again. He howled though he felt no pain. “But I know you remember the feeling of it, of being used, of being loved for a body and not yourself.”

“How dare you!?” the creature cried, pulling against the restraints.

I flicked the whip against his chest, watching him arch up to meet it, crying out with false pain. “Because you had a life and you chose this.”

My hands dropped a few feathers, letting him see the sum of his work. “Is this it? Is this all there is for you?”

The creature lowered his head as the whip hit him again and again, each sharp sound drawing a gasp or whimper from his sack face. I paused as he cried out, begging me to stop the rhythm as his clothes lay in tatters and fell off of his straw frame.

“What is it you want, then?” I asked, brow raised. 

A long pause waited between us as he considered. “I made… choices.”

“You did. And now?”

The scarecrow stopped, blackened eye sockets staring at me in a blank expression. 

“I regret it.”

A look of sorrow touched my face, and then I nodded.

“Do you want to go back?”

I stood before him, gazing upward, eyes piercing the darkness. I knew his story and I knew that heartache was no way to define a life. 

That long silence stretched, expanding between us. Finally, the scarecrow sighed. “But what worth am I without her?”

“That’s a question only you can answer,” I murmured, flicking the whip again so it slashed across his face, ripping the sack into pieces. “But…” I paused, bringing the pipe out. “I brought this.”

He paused, staring at the pipe hard and looking from it to me within a few beats. “How?’ he asked, voice impossibly lost. 

“I heard the story,” I whispered, approaching him and snaking a hand up to his straw-filled thigh.

“And so I would be your new toy?” he scoffed.

I offered the pipe to his mouth, letting him make the decision. “No. You’d be whatever you wished.”

The scarecrow took one puff, body shuddering as he did so. No smoke emerged yet I felt the change beneath me. My hand slid under his worn pants, feeling the hardness within. “Do you feel this?” I asked, breath shallow.

He groaned, hips pumping forward at my hand’s invasion. “I do,” he moaned.

I smirked and kept stroking the straw filled flesh, before pulling the pants down and off his legs, leaving dust and debris behind. “Do you want me to show you that this isn’t her?”

The creature nodded and took one more puff on the pipe. My eyes beheld a mortal man yet my hands felt the creature beneath. The hardness of his length was punctuated by sharp pokes and prods from the straw beneath. I stroked, running my hand up and down his increasing length as he whispered in the twilight, beginning me.

“Yes, please. Thank you,” he groaned with each passing movement. 

I moaned softly, aroused by his need, mouth moving forward to flick a tongue over his erection. My mouth explored him, tasting the dust and straw as my mouth swallow the fake human shell over his length.

He cried out, hips bucking p against my hand and mouth, body shuddering with each caress and taste. I whimpered, moaning against his flesh that was real and unreal, swallowing him though I felt the straw in every suck and taste. It was real and unreal, a creature undecided in who he was.

The scarecrow trembled, crying out as his release should have flooded my throat, and yet nothing came. I looked up at him, mouth still closed around the swollen member. I moved my hand to the knife, cutting him down before releasing him from my need.

He groaned, vacant mouth finding mine as we fell into the cornfield, arms wrapped around each other in hungry wanton. I shuddered above him, straddling his hips while he moaned, gloved hands discovering gm body as I let him slide within me.

My hips met his, rising up and down as he slid inside, rising within to send chills of delight soaring through my body. I cried out, shuddering as he grabbed my breasts through the gardener’s gloves and cried out.

No release emerged within me as I bent down to capture his coarse fabric lips in my own. “Believe it,” I whimpered. “In me. Come in me.”

My hips moved faster, letting him slide in and out of me in rapid movement, his strength, pokey and dry as it was, poking inside of me time after time. I kept moving, feeling the strange sensation of straw and dirt burrowing within my opening, moans escaping my lips at the new and delightful sensations.

The scarecrow cried out, once bound hands grabbing my hips and encouraging me atop him. Our moans and cries grew together as humanoid eyes began to appear beneath the mask and finally, he tore it off, looking up at me from his true face. 

I bent down, our lips meeting as he began to pump into me, meeting my every stroke with delight and want. We moaned and carried, filling the cornfield with new sounds of relief. AA great pulsing pleasure moved through me, filling me with its release as I shuddered atop him and then whimpered, collapsing on his chest.

The scarecrow held me to his chest, whispering a thank in soft breathing and warm flesh. I shivered in the night, pulling myself up to look at the thing beneath me, inhuman and free. The creature within had fled, finally released from its confines.