Something Wicked

Double, double toil and trouble: Fire burn and cauldron bubble. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.

Jack never wanted to be a Tatter-Man. He was the happiest scarecrow in Devon and didn’t give a hoot for tromping around at night, scaring the locals half-dead.

But when the wind blew cold, a black-winged messenger arrived with notice. “The Dark One has chosen you as a Tatter-Man.”

Jack tried to protest, saying his stuffing was not entirely up to par and that he limped too much to be frightful, but no amount of persuasion or complaining could persuade the messenger to change his mind.

“When the witching hour begins, you will know what to do,” croaked the bird, then flew off, leaving Jack in fear of the coming night.

With the moon rising, the old scarecrow began to feel a change in his body. His stuffing filled out, and his wooden frame grew as strong as steel.

“Ready or not, here goes madness,” mumbled Jack, tearing himself free of his support. Jack’s mind slipped away and was replaced with dark thoughts focused on harming the town folk.

He tried his best to turn his possessed body away from the village. But eventually, his will was worn down, and his body turned and headed toward the village center.

The screams and fear in their voices almost crushed his spirit. Jack liked these people, and many children came to play near him, offering him flowers and freshly picked fruit.

“I will not allow this to continue,” said Jack. Focusing his last bit of will he could gather, the scarecrow forced his arm to rise, and he plunged it into a street lamp.

His body burst into flame, and minutes later, only smoldering ash remained. The townsfolk who saw this were taken aback, and many rumors grew from this action.

One young girl who had visited Jack many times and always left him threats bravely spoke out, “He killed his self ’cause he was good and didn’t want to hurts no one,” No one spoke, but many nodded as they turned and walked back home.

The next day, a new scarecrow was put up in the farmer’s field. The children don’t visit this one. “It ain’t the same as the old one; his insides ain’t happy like the one before,” said the little girl.