Girl!Sam
scarecrow continued...
Dean had made it to his appointment with the professor, and the man seemed genuinely delighted to have someone calling on him with a question about his field of study. “It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.”
“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.”
“But you said you were interested in local lore.”
“Mm hmm.”
“I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.”
“Well, what if it was imported? You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn’t a lot of this area settled by immigrants?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Like that town near here, Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?”
“Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia.”
“What could you tell me about those Pagan gods?”
“Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses.”
“I’m actually looking for one that might live in an orchard.”
The professor went to his shelf and pulled out a large book. “Woods god, hmm? Well, let’s see.” He leafed through some pages.
On one page, Dean noticed a picture of a scarecrow on a post surrounded by farmers in a field. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s that one?”
“Oh, that’s not a woods god, per se.”
“The V-Vanir?” The professor nodded. “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.” He pointed to the picture. “Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?”
“I suppose.”
Dean read. “This particular Vanir…its energy sprung from a sacred tree?”
“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.”
“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?”
The professor laughed. “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”
“Oh, of course. Yeah, you’re right. Listen, thank you very much.” He shook the professor’s hand.
“Glad I could help.”
Dean still had his eyes on the professor as he opened the office door. That’s why he didn’t see the sheriff poised on the other side with the butt of his rifle raised until a split second before the man hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious. The sheriff gave the professor an appreciative nod as he stood over Dean’s motionless body.
************************************
Stacy, Harley, Scotty, and the sheriff were having an emergency meeting of the town elders.
“You don’t understand, Harley.” Scotty cajoled. “All of us here-It’s our responsibility to protect the town.”
“I understand. Better than all of you. I’m the one that gives ‘em directions. I’m the one that sends ‘em down to the orchard.”
“Harley, please.” The sheriff implored him.
“We all close our doors. Look the other way. Pretend we can’t hear the screams. But this is different, this-this is murder.” Harley stated.
“It’s angry with us.” Stacy declared. “Already the trees are beginning to die. Tonight’s the seventh night of the cycle. Our last chance.”
“If the boy has to die, the boy has to die. But why does it have to be her?” Harley shook his head miserably.
****************************************
Dean had come to in a cellar. It had no windows and the only door leading up was barred from the outside. He had worn himself out beating against it and had finally decided to wait for an opportunity to present itself. He heard movement outside and prepared to surprise whoever opened it, but when the door opened, not only was he momentarily blinded by the sunlight, but also stunned by the sight before him.
Emily, the girl from the gas station was there, being restrained by her aunt and uncle. She was crying. “Aunt Stacy. Uncle Harley, please.” They brought her down the stairs while the sheriff held a shotgun on Dean. “Why are you doing this?”
They didn’t answer until they had backed completely out and were back up into the sunlight. “For the common good.” Stacy replied as she shut the cellar door, leaving Dean and Emily together in the dark.
**************************************
Meg was gathering her things. “Hey. Our bus came in.”
Sam hung up her cell phone, shaking her head. “You better catch it. I gotta go.” She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders.
“Go where?”
Sam was already heading for the door. “Burkitsville.”
“Sam, wait.”
Sam paused when Meg’s hand caught her arm. It sent a chill through her that she couldn’t describe. Meg’s touch was electric. It almost felt like the thrill of attraction, just a bit skewed. Sam pushed aside the strange feeling to explain. “I’ve been trying to call my brother for the last three hours. I’m just getting his voicemail.”
“Well, maybe his phone’s turned off.”
“No, that’s not like him. Meg, I think he might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I can’t really explain right now. I’m sorry. Look, I don’t want you to miss your bus.”
“But I don’t understand. You’re running back to your brother? The guy you ran away from? Why, because he won’t pick up his phone? Because he told you goodbye? Sam-come with me to California.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
“He’s my family.” It was the simple answer, but it was true. Sam could go on about how close they had been growing up, or about all the times he’d been there for her, but she didn’t have the time to explain. She rushed out the door, and Meg watched her go with the disappointment of an opportunity lost.
**********************************
Dean was again trying to open the cellar door with no luck.
Emily was baffled by everything he had been telling her. “I don’t understand. They’re gonna kill us?”
“Sacrifice us. Which is, I don’t know, classier, I guess?” He stopped and walked over to her. “You really didn’t know anything about this, did you?” His inflection made it more of a statement than a question.
“About what…the scarecrow god? I can’t believe this.”
“Well, you better start believing, ‘cause I’m gonna need your help.” Dean worked to keep his voice even so as not to panic the girl further. If he was direct and confident, perhaps he could get some helpful information out of her. At the very least he had to keep her optimistic that they were going to get out of this mess, because if she lost it...well, he didn’t want to have to deal with that too.
Emily shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Okay.”
“Now, we can destroy the scarecrow, but we gotta find the tree.”
“What tree?”
“Maybe you can help me with that. It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, you know, like it was sacred.”
“There’s this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”
Yahtzee. “Is it in the orchard?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know where.”
Just then, the cellar door opened and the four elders were standing calmly before them. “It’s time.”
Last Part
Dean had made it to his appointment with the professor, and the man seemed genuinely delighted to have someone calling on him with a question about his field of study. “It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.”
“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.”
“But you said you were interested in local lore.”
“Mm hmm.”
“I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.”
“Well, what if it was imported? You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn’t a lot of this area settled by immigrants?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Like that town near here, Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?”
“Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia.”
“What could you tell me about those Pagan gods?”
“Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses.”
“I’m actually looking for one that might live in an orchard.”
The professor went to his shelf and pulled out a large book. “Woods god, hmm? Well, let’s see.” He leafed through some pages.
On one page, Dean noticed a picture of a scarecrow on a post surrounded by farmers in a field. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s that one?”
“Oh, that’s not a woods god, per se.”
“The V-Vanir?” The professor nodded. “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.” He pointed to the picture. “Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?”
“I suppose.”
Dean read. “This particular Vanir…its energy sprung from a sacred tree?”
“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.”
“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?”
The professor laughed. “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”
“Oh, of course. Yeah, you’re right. Listen, thank you very much.” He shook the professor’s hand.
“Glad I could help.”
Dean still had his eyes on the professor as he opened the office door. That’s why he didn’t see the sheriff poised on the other side with the butt of his rifle raised until a split second before the man hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious. The sheriff gave the professor an appreciative nod as he stood over Dean’s motionless body.
************************************
Stacy, Harley, Scotty, and the sheriff were having an emergency meeting of the town elders.
“You don’t understand, Harley.” Scotty cajoled. “All of us here-It’s our responsibility to protect the town.”
“I understand. Better than all of you. I’m the one that gives ‘em directions. I’m the one that sends ‘em down to the orchard.”
“Harley, please.” The sheriff implored him.
“We all close our doors. Look the other way. Pretend we can’t hear the screams. But this is different, this-this is murder.” Harley stated.
“It’s angry with us.” Stacy declared. “Already the trees are beginning to die. Tonight’s the seventh night of the cycle. Our last chance.”
“If the boy has to die, the boy has to die. But why does it have to be her?” Harley shook his head miserably.
****************************************
Dean had come to in a cellar. It had no windows and the only door leading up was barred from the outside. He had worn himself out beating against it and had finally decided to wait for an opportunity to present itself. He heard movement outside and prepared to surprise whoever opened it, but when the door opened, not only was he momentarily blinded by the sunlight, but also stunned by the sight before him.
Emily, the girl from the gas station was there, being restrained by her aunt and uncle. She was crying. “Aunt Stacy. Uncle Harley, please.” They brought her down the stairs while the sheriff held a shotgun on Dean. “Why are you doing this?”
They didn’t answer until they had backed completely out and were back up into the sunlight. “For the common good.” Stacy replied as she shut the cellar door, leaving Dean and Emily together in the dark.
**************************************
Meg was gathering her things. “Hey. Our bus came in.”
Sam hung up her cell phone, shaking her head. “You better catch it. I gotta go.” She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders.
“Go where?”
Sam was already heading for the door. “Burkitsville.”
“Sam, wait.”
Sam paused when Meg’s hand caught her arm. It sent a chill through her that she couldn’t describe. Meg’s touch was electric. It almost felt like the thrill of attraction, just a bit skewed. Sam pushed aside the strange feeling to explain. “I’ve been trying to call my brother for the last three hours. I’m just getting his voicemail.”
“Well, maybe his phone’s turned off.”
“No, that’s not like him. Meg, I think he might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“I can’t really explain right now. I’m sorry. Look, I don’t want you to miss your bus.”
“But I don’t understand. You’re running back to your brother? The guy you ran away from? Why, because he won’t pick up his phone? Because he told you goodbye? Sam-come with me to California.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?”
“He’s my family.” It was the simple answer, but it was true. Sam could go on about how close they had been growing up, or about all the times he’d been there for her, but she didn’t have the time to explain. She rushed out the door, and Meg watched her go with the disappointment of an opportunity lost.
**********************************
Dean was again trying to open the cellar door with no luck.
Emily was baffled by everything he had been telling her. “I don’t understand. They’re gonna kill us?”
“Sacrifice us. Which is, I don’t know, classier, I guess?” He stopped and walked over to her. “You really didn’t know anything about this, did you?” His inflection made it more of a statement than a question.
“About what…the scarecrow god? I can’t believe this.”
“Well, you better start believing, ‘cause I’m gonna need your help.” Dean worked to keep his voice even so as not to panic the girl further. If he was direct and confident, perhaps he could get some helpful information out of her. At the very least he had to keep her optimistic that they were going to get out of this mess, because if she lost it...well, he didn’t want to have to deal with that too.
Emily shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Okay.”
“Now, we can destroy the scarecrow, but we gotta find the tree.”
“What tree?”
“Maybe you can help me with that. It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, you know, like it was sacred.”
“There’s this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”
Yahtzee. “Is it in the orchard?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know where.”
Just then, the cellar door opened and the four elders were standing calmly before them. “It’s time.”
Last Part