Harvest Time

I have always been afraid of cornfields. Not just afraid, but terrified really. There is something unnatural the way the crisp green stalks tower high above the field, stretching up into the sky reaching out into the unknown. It's a strange
thing to confess. Seems almost silly for a sixteen year old New York City girl to be afraid of corn. I can deal with traffic in Manhattan, but put me in the country and I can't handle a walk down a dirt lane or a gravel road. My parents always send my brother, Mikey and I to stay with our aunt and uncle in Nebraska for the summer. Talk about a culture shock!

So here I am with my hands held over my eyes, counting as if I were back in grade-school like a frightened little school girl standing in the corner. My brother Mikey, a wiry boy of twelve who claims to be the best hide- and- seeker in all of Nebraska, has ventured deep into the corn, waiting patiently as I count. "One, two, three." I don't mind the game. It's just the location that frightens me. It's late summer and the corn stands nearly eight feet tall from its base. Dusk is slowly approaching and the summer sun has long since faded, leaving hues of purple and grey to blend into the blackness. The crisp autumn stalks jut out menacingly against the slowly ending day-sky, setting the backdrop of our game. Shadows begin to stretch out like twisted, mangled fingers, gone too thin and crippled with age. Ravenous, the stalks wait patiently for innocent prey to come close within their grasp.

"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. Ready or not here I come." The worst is only beginning for me. And with great reluctance the search begins as I slowly lower my hands, once protecting my eyes from visions I cared not to see. My head spins in a dizzied whirl as my vision blurs from rubbing my eyes. I begin to approach the field with a watchful eye. The cornfield stretches as far as the eye can see in a thick-walled maze. There is a "rural" legend in this town that no one ever tends the field. It just grows unnaturally every season, mysteriously appearing every summer and disappearing in the late fall after harvest season. I have never gotten out of bed early enough to confirm if it is true or not. Mikey once said a boy died in this very cornfield years ago during harvest time before our aunt and uncle moved in. The thought terrifies me, echoing through my head as I begin my search. Mikey would do anything to torment me. He takes pleasure in seeing me squirm. Most of the time he's full of it, but I don't care to find out.

Now as we begin our game the night closes in on me. The darkness overtakes the field, enveloping it in a blanket of impending doom. No sound or laughter escapes into the stiff night air. The silence is almost deafening. I slowly approach the field with my heart racing, slowly thumping to the rhythm of my own fear. Slowly and carefully I peel back the crisp dewy stalks creating a path, leading me into the never-ending maze. The ground below me crunches loudly beneath my feet as bugs make their escape into the night sky. I feel my eyes swell with tears I cannot contain.

Suddenly a scream pierces the silence. My gut wrenches in agony. A sickness swells deep inside of me as I run toward the sound as it echoes painfully across the field. Stalks of corn tear at my limbs, wrapping around my feet, entangling me, slowing me down. I struggle to move faster and faster, but the heaviness builds inside me weighing me down. My feet move heavy like concrete blocks sinking in quicksand as my limbs begin to paralyze.

As I approach the center of the field my terror heightens, and my worst fears are confirmed. The shiny green stalks break free and the center of the field opens up, revealing a small clearing of earth, pooling with freshly spilled blood. A crimson tide pours into the gaping ground, once dried and cracked from the scorching sun. Screaming in terror Mikey's arms flail in a panic reaching for the safety of the darkened sky, as he is swallowed up by the earth below. Then, there is a rustling sound as the stalks begin to tear at my feet and pull me in.