Rustling Through Straw

A short, eerie story for the Halloween season.

There were only four hours left until trick-or-treaters started showing up, and so far everything was on schedule. The front lawn was mowed, no weeds poked through the pavement, not a single dead plant in sight, and all of our Halloween decorations were up and secured.

This year, Nick and I decided to make a few of the decorations ourselves. The scarecrow was my favorite. It almost looked human. A burlap sack covered its face, and the hollow eyes and mouth were anything but cheerful. One of Nick’s old plaid shirts and a pair of worn jeans hung loosely on its frame. A hat the size of a sombrero sat on its head. With every gust of wind, the rustling of its dry straw sounded like a choked, rasping breath.

Halloween has always been our favorite holiday, but it stresses me out. I mean, strangers and their tiny humans ring our doorbell all night demanding candy. How does one even prepare for that?

Still, it’s a time to play, which is something I don’t do very often. I’m not a go-with-the-flow type of person like my husband. I thrive on order, to-do lists, and structure. I always need a plan so I know what to expect.

After lunch, I scheduled time for us to prepare the goodie bags for the trick-or-treaters, a new tradition I wanted to start this year. It was 1:30 p.m., and Nick was still working on a post for social. My nerves started buzzing.

“Are you almost done? We were supposed to start filling the bags half an hour ago,” I said, dropping candy and small toys onto the kitchen table.

“Chill, honey, we have plenty of time,” he said, still staring at his phone. “The kids don’t care about fancy goodie bags. They just want candy.”

“I know, but it’s better to be prepared. Can you just hurry and post already?”

I stepped outside to do one last check. The twelve-foot skeletons were powered on, the arch was steady, the pirate flag straightened. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn the scarecrow’s arm moved, as if to wave at me. Its arm was probably caught in a breeze, I told myself.

“Okay, I posted,” Nick called from the steps. “I think the decorations are fine, Fransis. Checking them five times isn’t going to change anything. Let’s make the goodie bags.”

A couple of hours later, we put on our matching skeleton costumes, and everything was ready for the night. The doorbell rang, and as I reached for the handle, my phone started vibrating. “Unknown Caller.” I hit the side button to silence it and opened the door.

A tiny witch stood there with her parents. She held out her cauldron and said, “Trick or treat!”

My lips lifted into a smile as I handed her a bag of candy and trinkets.
“Thank you!” her parents said.
“Happy Halloween!” Nick added, coming up behind me.

We closed the door, and my phone buzzed again.

“Who’s calling you?” Nick asked.
“No idea. Unknown number. Probably spam.”

An hour later, I had thirteen missed calls. They were all from “Unknown.”
I thought about answering but didn’t want to ruin the perfect Halloween evening. I set the phone on the table instead.

By the time the last trick-or-treaters left, I had thirty-one missed calls. The phone rang again, “Unknown Caller” flashing across the screen.
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the green button.

“Hello? Who is this, and why do you keep calling me?”

Silence. Then the faint sound of wind through the line.

I tossed my phone onto the couch. “I’m going to clean up outside a bit, then we can watch a movie.”

When I stepped outside, the lights flickered and went out. The yard fell into heavy darkness. Under the decorative arch stood someone in a costume. A man? A teenager? I couldn’t tell. Something about him looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Sorry,” I said, forcing a smile. “We’re all out of candy.”

The figure didn’t move. That’s when I noticed the empty wooden cross where the scarecrow used to be.

Then everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I couldn’t see or move. My arms felt stiff, stuffed, hollow. The air was thin and stale, and the burlap sack clung to my mouth and nose with each breath.

“Fransis! Where did you go?” Nick called out.
His voice grew louder each time he got closer.
“Fransis!”

I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Only the sound of wind rustling through straw.

---