Samhain Surprise Part 1: A Spooky Halloween Story

Part 1: The Dare

The small town of Mill Hollow, Illinois had always been quiet, especially as Halloween approached. The air grew colder, the nights longer, and the old legends crept into the minds of those who dared to listen. One legend, in particular, spooked the townsfolk—the legend of the Wandering Scarecrow.

Alex, Jordan, Sam, and Lisa were no strangers to the tales. They had grown up hearing about the scarecrow that stood on the abandoned Thompson farm at the edge of town. Some said it was cursed, others claimed it was haunted by the spirit of a farmer who had disrespected the land. But to Alex, it was just a bunch of nonsense.

“You seriously believe that old story?” Alex scoffed, leaning back in his chair at the local diner. The group had gathered after school, as they often did, to talk about Halloween plans. Jordan, the prankster of the group, grinned.

“Of course not,” Jordan said, with a mischievous glint in his eye. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with it. I say we steal the scarecrow and set it up at school for Halloween. Imagine everyone’s faces when they see it!”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had always been a bit more superstitious than the others. “I don’t know, guys. What if there’s some truth to the stories? People say weird things have happened to anyone who messes with that scarecrow.”

Lisa, ever the voice of reason, gave Sam a sympathetic look. “It’s just a scarecrow, Sam. But maybe we shouldn’t mess with it. There’s no point in tempting fate.”

“Tempting fate?” Alex laughed. “Come on, it’s just straw and old clothes. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jordan clapped his hands together, sealing the deal. “It’s settled then. We’re going tonight. Don’t be chicken, Sam. It’ll be fun.”

Sam hesitated but ultimately agreed, not wanting to be the only one left out. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the group made their way to the edge of town, where the old Thompson farm stood, shrouded in shadows.

The farm was exactly as they remembered—desolate, with overgrown weeds and a dilapidated barn that creaked in the wind. And there, in the middle of the field, stood the scarecrow. Its tattered clothes fluttered in the breeze, and its head, a burlap sack with a crude face stitched on, seemed to watch them as they approached.

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” Alex said, though his voice wavered just a bit as they got closer. The air was cold, colder than it should have been for this time of year, and an uneasy silence settled over the group.

Jordan was the first to reach the scarecrow. He grabbed it by the arm, yanking it free from the post it had been tied to for who knows how long. As he did, a strange sensation washed over them all, like the air itself was holding its breath.

“Let’s go,” Jordan said, trying to shake off the feeling. He slung the scarecrow over his shoulder, and they began the trek back to town. But as they left the farm, none of them noticed the faint rustling of straw in the wind, as if something—or someone—was watching them go.

To be continued …