Scarecrow Scare

Every year, the town held a Scarecrow Contest. Open to everyone in the town, regardless of age, all of the citizens of Lost Lake were encouraged to create a scarecrow for display on the town green. The contest opened October 1st and continued until Halloween, when the panel of judges would choose the winners. There were plenty of categories for the prizes, from Cutest to Most Colorful to Best in a variety of age-ranges, and - of course - Scariest.

Gabby always enjoyed checking out the scarecrows every year. She appreciated the artistic presentations, the professional-looking ones, the silly ones, the painstakingly detailed ones designed by the local senior citizens, and the cobbled-together ones that the kids came up with.

But then there were the scary ones. Those she did not enjoy. Not a fan of scary movies, she was also not a fan of scary scarecrows. For one thing, she didn’t get the connection to a scary movie she had never seen, and without that understanding, the scarecrows simply didn’t make sense to her. For another, the focus of the scary ones seemed to be more about splashing fake blood around than on creating a well thought out design. Many of them didn’t even bother with a face or clothing, they simply propped a mask on top of a purchased costume. Where was the creativity in that?

But the real reason she didn’t like the scary ones was something completely different: they always seemed to be watching her. She only got that feeling from the scary ones. Miss Muffet and her spider didn’t bother her. Nor did the various Disney Princesses: Cinderella, Snow White, Elsa. The silly ones - a UPS-uniformed scarecrow being chased by a skeleton dog - made her laugh. Even Bat Man, Cat Woman, and Wonder Woman, peering through their masks, didn’t feel creepy.

But those scary ones. The Grim Reaper. The Chainsaw Massacre guy. Jason, with the bloody hockey mask. Freddy Kruger of the murderous fingernails.

Every time she passed one, it felt like its eyes were following her. Which was ridiculous, she knew - most of them didn’t even have “eyes” - but the feeling persisted. In the daytime it was bad enough, but at night? She couldn’t bring herself to even come to the display at night.

She couldn’t avoid them easily; her apartment was a block over from the Town Square where the display was set up, and she had to pass it on her way to the train station. Now that Fall had arrived, it was often dark when she passed the Square on her way to and from her daily commute. She would pass as quickly as possible, but still. Those scary ones always had her rattled.

This year, the display had been arranged differently. The sidewalk through the Town Square lot curved its way through the display, winding this way and that around the bushes and trees with which the Square was landscaped. Along the walk, the innocuous scarecrows had been set up. That left the outside margins for the scary ones. When Gabby walked down the sidewalk alongside the road, the scary scarecrows were close to where she had to walk. Very close. Much, much too close. She could reach out and touch them (not that she ever would) and she felt like they could also reach out and touch her.

This year she had taken to avoiding the sidewalks along the outside edges of the Square in favor of the winding interior path - the one that was not lined with scary ones. She was okay with Red Riding Hood - even with her wolf - and with Humpty Dumpty and Mother Goose. The Three Blind Mice were borderline, as were the Three Little Pigs. Something about animals dressed like people was just wrong. But wrong was not the same as menacing. And those scary ones felt menacing.

Halloween was rapidly approaching, and the number of scarecrows that were displayed in the Square was building rapidly, as people rushed to complete their entries. It seemed to Gabby that most of the latest entries were scary ones. The High School Drama Club had chosen to focus on the old, classic movie monsters: Frankenstein, the Wolfman, Dracula, the Mummy. Gabby had actually seen the old movies, and didn’t consider them scary. But the scarecrows that the kids made seemed way scarier than the creatures in the movies.

October inched along until it was finally Halloween. The holiday itself - little kids dressed up as princesses and unicorns, superheroes and Star Wars characters - Gabby actually liked. The kids were so cute, and she enjoyed seeing them come to her door, and handing out the candy. Nothing scary about that.

But those scarecrows.

Of course, being a grown-up with a real job, Gabby was working on Halloween. She worked for a toy company, in the Financial Department. The management prided themselves on being family-centered and on “discovering the inner child in all of us.” Consequently, they were very “into” Halloween. They encouraged their employees to come to work in costume on Halloween, and there was a Halloween party after close of business. A mandatory Halloween party. Gabby didn’t really want to go, but her attendance was expected, and she couldn’t avoid it.

She dressed as a witch every year, an easy and comfortable costume that she could work easily in. Really it was just a black dress, a black lace cape, a broom, and the obligatory pointy witch’s hat. She could move around easily, and once she slipped off the fake nails, she could type. Easy Peasy.

She was putting the finishing touches on the spreadsheet she was working on, when a figure darkened her door. She looked up to meet the gaze of a black-dressed, caped, masked man.

“You comin’ to the party?” he asked.

“Sure,” Gabby replied, “just finishing. Um - Scott? Is that you?”

Smiling, he pushed up his mask. “Yup. Come on, I’ll wait for you.”

Scott was a fairly new hire, and he seemed to be interested in a relationship with Gabby. He seemed like a nice enough guy, and they had kept each other company at various company functions. She wasn’t averse to getting to know him better, but she wasn’t in a hurry, either. Still, she could do worse than to attend this party with him.

Gabby saved her work and rose, snagging her purse from her desk drawer. She really didn’t feel like going to a party, but she knew she had to. She told herself that she would leave as soon as she could slip out unnoticed. Summoning a bright smile, she said, “Let’s go!”

The party was in full swing when she and Scott arrived. Drinks seemed to be flowing freely, judging by the noise level and the raucous laughter. Gabby told herself that she would stay away from the liquor and stick to punch; one punch bowl was clearly labeled “Non-alcoholic.”

She decided that she’d give it an hour to “see and be seen” and then she would slip out.

After her third glass of punch, Gabby began to suspect that “Non-alcoholic” was false advertising. It tasted sweet and a little sticky, but there was also an underlying kick to it. It wasn’t unpleasant, but she was definitely feeling a bit light-headed as she circulated the room. Glancing at her watch, she realized that it was after 5, and she decided that it was time for her to get home. The Trick-or-Treaters usually started around 7:00, and she wanted to be there for them.

She slipped out the door and headed to the train station down the road. She felt a bit tipsy, and she walked carefully, concentrating on not stumbling. Once she stopped and leaned against a building. "Wow. I wonder what was in that punch!" she thought woozily. When she stopped, she thought she heard footsteps, like someone was following her. Nervous, she looked over her shoulder. Was that a dark figure in that doorway? She turned and began walking more quickly.

Stopped again. Heard footsteps again. Looked back and saw nothing.

Fortunately, the train station wasn’t very far away. Rushing a bit, looking over her shoulder, she made it safely onto her train. As she slumped into a seat, she chastised herself for being silly.

When she reached her stop, she took a deep breath and stepped off.

“Almost home now,” she told herself. “Just got to get past the damn scarecrows.” Looking nervously over her shoulder once more, she started for home.

The scarecrows were just ahead. Were there more of them that there were yesterday? It seemed like it. The scary ones were clustered along the road-side, shoulder to shoulder. And - were they moving? Gabby froze, wide-eyed, and stared.

Nothing. “Geez, you really are being ridiculous!” she told herself. “Stop being a scaredy-cat! You’re not twelve!”

As she pushed on, she could swear that she heard footsteps behind her again. When she looked back, she saw…was that a figure in black? Back by that tree?

She walked faster, the fear of what might be behind her building on the fear of the scarecrows before her. “Home,” she sobbed. “Home…”

She had nearly reached the Town Square. And there was movement! The scarecrows were - they really were moving! There were three - no, four - no, five, six - “My God, they really are alive! Evil! Alive!”

Gripping her witch-costume broomstick like a baseball bat, Gabby screamed, “Aaaagghh!” Swinging the broomstick from side to side, she plowed into the moving scarecrows, hitting with all her might.

“Hey!” a voice cried. “Ow! Hey, stop that!”

“Jeez, she’s gone crazy!” another voice gasped.

“Run! Run!” a third voice shouted.

And then, before her eyes, the scarecrows were running away from her, tossing aside straw body after straw body as they tore through the scarecrow display. “Yeah! Run, you straw-men! Run!” She shook her broom at the running figures.

Standing there, panting, shaking her broom, Gabby realized what must have happened. Kids, probably from the local high school, had thought it would be a great joke to bring the field of scarecrows to life and scare passers-by. Just good, clean fun.

They hadn’t reckoned with a half-drunk witch overcoming her fear of scarecrows by beating them off with a broomstick. Chuckling to herself, Gabby walked fearlessly past the Town Square Scarecrow Contest and up to her door.

“Time to get ready for the Trick-or-Treaters,” she told herself. “I guess those big kids aren’t going to be knocking on my door tonight!”