The Scarecrow Festival

 

‘How much further is it exactly?’ Rachael shouted after her brother as he disappeared across the field. She stood, hand shielding her eyes from the sun that was beating down. It was early June, but the UK was experiencing record temperatures already and the forecast showed little change for the weeks to come.

‘Rich… RICHARD!’ she shouted in exasperation. She was tired and hot, not a good combination and her brother had the only bottle of water they had brought with them. She looked down at the earth, cracks were already beginning to snake across the field and the barley crop looked scorched. She flopped down and watched ants diving in and out of one of the cracks hauling themselves up the curly shoots with ease.

Richard, finally aware that his sister was no longer right behind him, turned to see where she had got to. He made his way back to her and pulled out the water when he saw how red her face was. Her hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat.

‘Here’ he said, holding out the bottle to her. Rachael drank deeply and wiped her wrist over her forehead. ‘Steady!’ said Richard frowning ‘That’s all the water we have!’

He crouched down and looked at his sister. ‘You forget I have shorter legs than you!’ she said with annoyance. It was true, she seemed to have stopped growing, she was 15 and hadn’t grown since the age of 12. She’d gone from being one of the tallest in her class to being second shortest. Rich however, had just kept growing and now at 17 he was over six feet. He had gone through uniform on an almost weekly basis much to their mother’s annoyance.

A sudden and very welcome breeze sprung up, Rachael held her face up to it, shutting her eyes momentarily. It was good to feel the coolness of it however brief. She preferred snow and winter, remembering fondly the little log cabin she had spent one Christmas in with Richard and her parents. It had even snowed that Christmas morning and snowball fights were followed by hot chocolate by the fire while they opened presents.

‘Come on!’ Richard rudely interrupted her thoughts, and she opened her eyes and scowled at him. Reluctantly she stood up and followed her brother sighing loudly.

It was beautiful and peaceful here, out in the Cotswold hills, when she glanced back Rachael could just see the tiny honey coloured cottage, they called home.

Finally, after what seemed an absolute age, Richard declared they had arrived. ‘See’ he stated, ‘You can still see home it’s not that far really!’

Rachael raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged as she looked back at the dot that was home in the far distance.

Richard dug into his rucksack and carefully brought out a tiny plant wrapped in damp paper towel and enclosed in a plastic cup with a bag over the top. He reached further into the depths of his open rucksack and brandished a trowel in the air.

‘I don’t understand why we couldn’t plant it in the garden’ protested Rachael.

Richard looked at her as if she had dropped from an alien planet. ‘I’m telling you THIS is the perfect spot. Look.’ He gestured towards the horizon, the sun comes up here and sets there. He swung round pointing the trowel. Rachael could see the sweat patches under his arms and wrinkled her nose in disgust, he’d never get a girlfriend if he didn’t find a decent deodorant.

‘RACH!’ he yelled totally exasperated. She lifted her palms upwards and shrugged once again.

‘And … have you forgotten, it’s the driest start to summer we’ve had in a century? Its going to die.’ She exclaimed sarcastically in total brother winding up mode.

’30 years ACTUALLY. Not a century, get your facts straight.’ He knelt on the hard, dusty ground and started to dig a small hole.

Rachael stuck her tongue out behind Richards back. 17-year-old brothers were annoying.

‘And anyway’ she continued, determined to get the last word ‘The snails will eat it, or mice, or something!’

Richard said nothing as he carefully teased the roots of the plant out.

The earth was bone dry, but Richard grabbed the bottle and poured the last of the water into it.

Rachael looked on in disbelief. ‘Great, that was the last of our water you dickhead’

Richard tutted and wagged his finger in her face ‘I will tell mum you were swearing!’ She slapped his hand away ‘SHUT UP RICHARD!’

‘Well look, there’s home, we are not in the Sahara I don’t think you will die before we reach there...’ he said in an annoying, whiny, mimicking voice.

Rachael sat down in a huff, bringing her knees up to her chin, her trainers scuffed the dry earth sending a dust cloud upwards.

Richard smiled, it reminded him of when she was smaller, always cross with him. He patted the earth around the plant and carefully placed a ring of salt around the delicate plant with its two solitary leaves. ‘For the slugs’ he said to no one particular since Rach had long since stopped listening to him.

She slowly thawed out and together they found a shady patch under the nearby beech trees. Richard sat admiring the view and then dug into his rucksack and threw a packet of plain crisps at his sister. ‘Here grumpy, have these, its too hot for chocolate’

‘Oh great’ she said rolling her eyes ‘plain crisps full of salt just what I need when it’s a hundred degrees and we have no water’

Richard bonked her on the head with the empty water bottle and went to snatch the crisps back, but she evaded his grasp.

They started laughing after that and Richard then produced two ham rolls and an apple for each of them. The scent of early summer wafted in on that welcome breeze and a blackbird hopped off the wall for crumbs the pair threw for him.  In the distance a sheep bleated, and the hills had that kind of blueish tint of a heat haze to them.

They sat for some time exchanging insults every now and again like siblings do but then Richard nudged Rachael. ‘Have you seen the sky over there?’ he pointed over to the far left.

Rachael looked to the horizon; the sky was an ominous black colour.

‘Hell, its going to rain’ she said huffily. ‘That’s weird though I’m sure we aren’t due any for a while ...’ Then she brightened visibly, ‘your stupid little plant is going to get flattened’ she said with a smirk.

But Richard was already off, back to the plant. He searched through the rucksack once again, bringing out the plastic cup. Very carefully he pieced several small holes in the base of the cup with his pocketknife and gently placed it upturned over the plant. 

In the distance there was a rumble of thunder, the blackbird flew off with a warning call. The breeze picked up.

‘Get a few stones from the wall’ Richard instructed his sister gesturing back towards the treeline.

She did at she was told, selecting a few loose stones that sat at the base of the wall, she knew full well not to disturb a dry-stone wall.

Some woodlice scuttled off to safety as she picked them up.

Richard placed the stones around and, on the cup, to secure it. ‘We need to go’ he said standing up.

‘You’re not kidding’ Rachael said as she watched the lightning play across the dark sky in the distance, the rumbles echoed across the hill a few seconds later.

Their parents only had a couple of rules; always home before dark and get home fast if there is a storm. This was mainly because their father had been struck by lightning twice when he lived in Canada.

Never breaking these rules, the siblings ran full pelt for home, their feet pounding on the cracked field sending up dry dust and stones amongst the parched crops.

Behind them the storm advanced, they could almost feel the crack of every thunderclap, hair standing on end as the lightning split overhead. The breeze was wild now, bending trees back and forth.

But strangely, not one drop of rain, despite the threatening sky.

Once inside and getting their breath back they watched the cloud swirling and the lighting passing across the sky in vivid flashes. It passed and then it was as if nothing had happened. One of the strangest storms in a very long time.

It was to be a good three weeks before they got any rain. Three long weeks where Rich insisted walking to the plant EVERY day to water it with Rachael trailing behind complaining.

The day it rained she literally whooped with joy although Rich donned a coat and went to check it anyway.

So, what was this precious plant? I’m sure you are wondering!

Before the hot weather spell, a leaflet had come through the door informing them that there was to be a scarecrow festival in the village for Halloween and Richard in his usual taking charge way decided they should enter as a family. You had to use a carved pumpkin for a head, so Richard nurtured the seeds in little pots on the kitchen windowsill. In the end there was only one tiny successful plant.

The reason for the trek to the growing site was to keep it out of sight of prying eyes and yes, thieves! The scarecrow festival was a big and competitive event with a £150 prize for the best one and there was a lot of stealing and swapping of pumpkins that went on in the dead of the night. Laughable really but Richard, entering for the first time, took it very seriously.

Rach quickly lost interest, wanting to get to the carving part. She moaned daily that it was taking a long time to grow. Every evening she would tease Rich as they ate supper as a family, to the point that she got sent out of the room by her exasperated mother.

The beautiful weather of June was long forgotten as July and August were both wash outs. The barley field was thriving after its initial false start. When the sun finally made an appearance Rachael was persuaded to make a begrudging visit across to the growing site with Richard way ahead as usual. She waded through the tall barley knowing she would regret her choice of wearing shorts as she felt the familiar sting of the ears as they hit her bare legs.

The field served its purpose shielding the pumpkin from view. Although the barley was due for cutting very soon which was worrying Richard somewhat. He knew that generally the spring barley was cut in early September which gave him a little time. He had diligently pruned the pumpkin with shears and thick gardening gloves after discovering how prickly the vines were and carefully picked off any bugs each day. It was growing nicely, and Richard was quick to point out that this had been the perfect site for it once again, just to irritate Rach even further.

When the time was right the pair went and harvested the plump, orange fruit and took turns carrying it across the field to home because of its weight. When they got home, they found the door blocked by their mum standing in their way with folded arms. ‘It can’t come in here’ she stated, fixing the pair with a steely gaze.

Richard looked at her quizzically as she continued ‘It will be full of bugs! Don’t think about the shed either I’ve got next years bulbs stored in there!’

Rich raised his eyes heavenward; his arms were aching, and he placed it carefully on the garden path puffing as he did so.

He thought for a minute and then motioned for his sister to follow him which she did, dragging her feet as usual.

The last thing he wanted to do was trail through the village carrying his prize pumpkin, but he had little choice now. He was thankful of the dusk that was descending. Few people were about.

At the cricket ground he turned left down the bridal path that came out by the church. He was ignoring his sister asking every five seconds ‘Where are you going?’

‘Here’ he said as he pushed through the little wooden gate into the churchyard. Rachael was horrified, it was nearly dark, and they were in a CHURCHYARD! She shivered involuntarily, once again, her brother ignored her and forged ahead, he was definitely going to feel his arm muscles burning tomorrow. In the far corner, behind the yew tree was a family vault. In the gloom Rach could just make out the name PATRICK carved in stone it seemed there were a host of the same family buried here, at least 8 plaques were on the side of the tomb.

‘You can’t …’ Rachael’s voice trailed off into a whisper.

 

‘I can’ said Rich as he plonked the pumpkin down on the stone step of the monument. He disappeared momentarily around the back of the grave. Rachael rubbed her arms and glanced around; this was one place she really didn’t want to be. Every movement, every shadow was a potential ghost waiting to pounce.

She was aware of a scraping sound and peeked around the corner of the stone grave to see where Richard had disappeared to. She shook her head in disbelief, he was half inside the tomb.

‘Pass me the pumpkin, absolutely NOBODY will look in here!’ He had moved a cracked slab which was part of the back side of the monument.

‘How did you know about this? Actually,I don’t think I want to know’ said Rach covering her eyes with her hand after she had slid the pumpkin to her brother.

‘Well about three years ago a few of us were always looking for somewhere to smoke away from the nosey old people in the village. One night we happened to be here, and I think it was Will, yes it was definitely Will sat up against the tomb and fell backwards because of this slab being broken. We just crawled inside and sat and smoked’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Rachael’s mouth was agape, ‘That’s desecration, or something! I don’t know…’  she looked disgusted. ‘I mean ...there are bodies in there!’

‘They are in coffins’ stated Rich but could see this had not had the desired calming effect. ‘We didn’t touch them, alright?’ He added seeing Rach looking at him in a new and VERY unfavourable light.

She shook her head again and stood arms folded, glaring at him. He slid the slab across and stood up. He wasn’t going to win this battle.

They headed home in silence in the very last of the daylight.

It was a couple of weeks before they returned, this time during the day, Rachael refused to go at night. To be fair it was a secluded part of the churchyard so no one could really see them anyway.

As they approached the grave Richard frowned. ‘Oh hell, no!’ he exclaimed. At the edge of the broken slab were three dead rats, their insides had been torn out and strewn across the surrounding grass. He touched the first one with his foot and his sister recoiled in horror.

He wasn’t sure how they had died but something had sure had fun doing it.  He wasn’t really worried about the rats he was more concerned that they had got into the grave itself and eaten the pumpkin. He slid back the slab and studied the pumpkin. It was whole, no sign of even a nibble, BUT it had grown. At the same moment her registered this fact, he discounted it. How could it possibly have increased in size?

At first, he thought someone had got in and swapped it for a joke but, NO because he had cut the pumpkin with a little v cut at the stem and that was the same. IT WAS THE SAME PUMPKIN, but it was at least a quarter bigger.

Puzzled he dragged it out and motioned to Rach to help him lift it.

‘What? I don’t understand. Its grown bigger??’ she looked at her brother, her brown eyes wide with amazement.

Between them they carried the monstrous fruit down the street to home. They had to stop and put it down every few metres.

Luckily there was space in the garage for it to go now, they had already started gathering bits for the build. There were two broom handles propped up in the corner and some hessian sacking and an old scarf lay on the floor. They had already glued together four plastic pumpkin trick or treat buckets, removing the handles and painting them to take away the look of plastic. They had a stack of t lights to put inside them for the Halloween competition. It didn’t look much but they were quietly confident they could get a decent scarecrow together. They couldn’t explain or even begin the comprehend the whole growth thing.

‘We will probably come back tomorrow and discover it has filled the garage’ Rach said laughing but only half joking.

The following day the pair opened the garage door with trepidation. The pumpkin was the same size, nothing had changed. Richard set about constructing the scarecrow while Rachael traced the design of the face on the orange skin of the pumpkin. She cut into it with a sharp knife, slicing off the top to get to the interior. She was met with a vile stench.  ‘What the...?’She covered her nose with the crook of her elbow. Even Richard stopped what he was doing and came to look.

‘Is it rotten?’ he asked holding his hand over his nose as he spoke.

They peeped inside, the flesh was inexplicably black, yet the exterior was orange and firm with no signs of mold.

‘Yuck! Well, you can carve this then, I will finish dressing the body’ Rach said handing her brother the knife. She opened the garage door a touch to help with the smell and they continued to work in silence side by side.  Once the pumpkin head was securely on its broom handle, they propped the whole thing in a heavy flowerpot filled with stones and soil.

‘What shall we call him?’ Richard said standing back and admiring their handywork.

Rachael thought for a minute then said ‘Patrick, after the grave’ ‘Actually, Putrid Patrick, as he stinks!’ she giggled.  

‘Putrid Patrick’ Richard nodded ‘I like that!’

They attended to the clothing, making it ragged and dirty using scissors and a diluted paint wash. Rachael added the battery t lights and they admired the finished results.

‘He looks kind of evil, I’m not sure we are going to win’ She pulled a face. ‘It depends on the competition really. We already know that the Bensons go overboard with theirs’

The Bensons had won for the last three years, transforming their scarecrows into various celebrities such as Potato Ed Sheeran, Benedict Cucumber Patch etc etc. Putrid Patrick wasn’t quite in the same league.  Still, only 24 hours to go and the whole village would be alive with scarecrows and kids dressed in Halloween costumes.

Halloween dawned and for once, there was no rain forecast. It was a bright crisp day and the villagers who were participating were out and about erecting the scarecrows in their front gardens. Some even had whole scenes with props and fog machines.

As darkness fell the judges made their way round and once again declared the Bensons as the winners with their elaborate ‘Star Cores’ apple themed scene complete with Leek Skywalker.

Rich and Rachael didn’t mind, they sat on the front lawn watching the kids trick or treat and handing out little parcels of sweets.

Two carved pumpkins were glowing on their doorstep, the flame flickered slightly in the breeze. ‘You know, Patrick looks more evil tonight’ Rachael said as she pulled her cardigan tightly around her shoulders.

Rich looked over towards the gate where they had positioned Patrick, he was about to scoff at her statement, but she had a point. His eyes were narrow, his mouth twisted, and he noticed that some of the seeds from the blackened contents had fallen into the mouth cavity, looking like teeth. He hadn’t carved him that scary, had he?

The last of the children were disappearing down the street, swinging their bags and buckets full of sweets, laughing and being chivvied along by mums and dads. Then it was silent. Rach extinguished the t lights in the pumpkins and glanced back down the now silent street. She realised she couldn’t see the streetlight as it was obscured by mist.  Probably the few fireworks that had been set off hanging in the air, she reflected.

She shivered and turned to her brother who was still sitting on the lawn ‘You coming in?’

‘Do you want me to take the t lights out of Patrick?’ he asked standing up and brushing off his jeans.

‘No need, I was just going to leave them in until the batteries go’ she replied as she opened the front door.

Between them the siblings polished off the remaining Trick or Treat sweets, squabbling over who had what. Their mum looked up from her laptop over the top of her glasses. ‘You two, how old are you?’

Midnight came and went, and the household settled down to sleep.

Rachael’s bedroom was at the front of the house and about 2AM she heard a strange scraping noise that woke her up.

Lifting the curtain and rubbing her eyes she peeked outside. She nearly screamed. The mist had thickened to a fog that swirled and cleared. In the brief moment it cleared she could see Patrick was halfway up the lawn. She panicked and went and got Richard, ordering him to be quiet so as not to wake their mother.

‘I can’t even see it?’ he said as he looked at the lawn but then he spotted it out the corner of his eye, it was almost underneath the window. The pot was missing. ‘Is someone playing a trick on us?’ whispered Rach knowing full well it wasn’t the case.

‘No, LOOK – its moving by itself!’ As Richard said that Rachael heard the scraping noise again. It was the sound of the stick scraping across the lawn.  

‘Its not alone’ Richard stared into the mist. Barely visible, there were 6, no 8, skeletons. Rachael was clinging to her brother at this point.  ‘This has something to do with that grave, I just know it. We called it Patrick and there are 8 skeletons’

Richard shook his head ‘You did lock the door, didn’t you?’

She stared at her brother wracking her brains. ‘I think so…’

That question was answered by the rattle of the door, scraping of a wooden stick across the hall floor and a stench of rotting pumpkin drifting up the stairs …

 

Sarah Russell 2022