Samhain Surprise Pt. 4: A Spooky Halloween Story

Part 4: The Ritual

As they walked away from the farm, the group remained silent, each of them lost in their thoughts. The night air was still cold, but the wind had died down, leaving the farm eerily quiet. The weight of what they had done—and the scarecrow’s unsettling behavior—hung heavy in the air.

“We did the right thing, didn’t we?” Lisa finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We did what we had to,” Alex replied, though he wasn’t entirely sure. “It’s over now.”

But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong. The scarecrow’s final glance, the way it seemed to watch them as they left, gnawed at the back of his mind. And he wasn’t the only one who felt it.

“I don’t think it’s over,” Sam said, his voice trembling. “What if we didn’t do enough? What if the offering wasn’t enough to stop it?”

Jordan, who had been silent since they left the farm, finally spoke up. “We did what the legend said. We put it back and made an offering. That has to count for something.”

But even Jordan didn’t sound as confident as he wanted to be.

As they reached the edge of town, the familiar lights and sounds of Mill Hollow brought a small sense of relief. But that relief was short-lived. As they walked past the town square, something caught their eye—something that made their blood run cold.

There, standing in the middle of the square, was the scarecrow.

It was impossible. They had just left it back at the farm. But there it was, standing tall, its burlap face tilted slightly as if it were mocking them.

“No,” Sam whispered, his voice filled with terror. “It can’t be…”

Before anyone could react, the scarecrow’s head slowly turned to face them. Its button eyes glinted in the streetlight, and its straw-filled limbs creaked as it took a step forward.

The group froze, paralyzed by fear as the scarecrow moved toward them, its movements jerky and unnatural. It was no longer just a scarecrow—it was something much more sinister, something that had been awakened by their actions.

“We have to finish the ritual,” Sam said, his voice trembling. “There has to be something more we can do.”

Alex, thinking quickly, pulled out his phone and began searching frantically for more information on the legend. He found an old document, hidden deep in the town’s archives, that mentioned a final step in the ritual—one that they had missed.

“It says here that the ritual isn’t complete until we show true remorse,” Alex said, reading aloud as quickly as he could. “We have to admit what we did wrong and ask for forgiveness from the spirits.”

“But we already made the offering,” Jordan protested, though his voice wavered with fear.

“It’s not enough,” Lisa said, her eyes fixed on the scarecrow as it drew closer. “We have to mean it.”

The scarecrow was now just a few feet away, its presence overwhelming. It loomed over them, its button eyes dark and cold, its straw fingers reaching out.

“Please,” Sam said, stepping forward, his voice cracking with fear. “We’re sorry. We shouldn’t have taken you. We shouldn’t have disrespected the land. Please forgive us.”

The others quickly joined in, each of them speaking from the heart, expressing their regret for what they had done. They poured out their apologies, their voices trembling with fear and sincerity.

For a moment, nothing happened. The scarecrow stood still, its head tilted down as if considering their words. The night air was thick with tension, the silence almost unbearable.

Then, slowly, the scarecrow lowered its arms. The eerie light in its button eyes faded, and it took a step back, almost as if it were retreating. The group held their breath, watching in disbelief as the scarecrow turned and began to walk away, back toward the farm.

As it moved, the wind picked up again, swirling around the scarecrow and lifting it off the ground. It floated above the earth, carried by the wind, back to the farm where it belonged. The group watched in silence until the scarecrow disappeared from sight, carried away by the night.

The square was quiet again, the town returning to its peaceful state as if nothing had happened. The group let out a collective sigh of relief, their hearts still pounding in their chests.

“We did it,” Jordan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s over.”

But even as the words left his mouth, they all knew that they would never forget what had happened. The scarecrow might be gone, but the fear it had instilled in them would linger for a long time.

They walked home together, the night air no longer cold, but their minds still haunted by the events of the evening. They had learned a hard lesson—some legends were not meant to be trifled with.

And as they passed the edge of town, a faint rustling sound reached their ears, like the whisper of straw in the wind. They didn’t look back.

The end … or is it?