The Scarecrow Part 3 A novel

In the town of Lawrence, Kansas, Dean Harrison and his family, arrive at the haunted farmhouse in the summer of 1975, where a evil scarecrow still looms over the place where evil dwells there.


3. Lawrence, Kanasas-August 4, 1975


The rain subsided. It drenched the city of Lawrence, Kansas. Paul Shockley knew that the scarecrow had ruined the party tonight; He gazed at the house next door. He looked at the farmhouse. He shivered. By eight-thirty pm, the lamps illuminated State Road. He had heard the sound of voices downstairs. He gripped his copy of Jaws ​by Peter Benchley...and  read the beginning of the horror novel about a killer rogue shark in his right hand...and shuddered. Seconds later he saw two teenagers kissing. He noticed a car coming down the road. It stopped towards the fields; he imagined the scarecrow's scythe coming downward. The girl screamed...and her boyfriend was in deep shock. But it wasn't a was real. 

And, for him, the shivering cold destroyed all notion of imminent death that coursed through his blood as he saw the scarecrow's dead, black, eyes focusing on him. Afterwards, he knew that the horror of the city had claimed more victims.


Margaret Kincaid stared at the Harrison farm. She watched Sheriff Al Johnstone shake his head. "There's a new curfew for all teenagers by Midnight because of the scarecrow deaths". He smoked a cigarette  Tania Kincaid nodded. She didn't want her daughter to be up to no good; she was wearing a red robe. "Margaret, you have to stay inside", she said. Margaret watched The Sheriff in the darkness of the house and felt bad that the evening was over. But he couldn't have predicted that the scarecrow would strike yet again. He looked at the girl. "I'm sorry Margaret; I'm really sorry". Margaret adjusted her long, black hair with a black brush; she looked around to see her father, Hal Kincaid was dressed in red pyjamas. He had long, black hair, brown eyes, and tall. He watched the local teenagers sigh with frustration as their evening was over before it had begun. Margaret decided to write on her typewriter as a way to be creative. She headed into her bedroom, and placed the brush on her new light, brown, dresser where her clothes were stored in. Then she flicked on the bright light, and wrote her story before she went to sleep.


Page 3.

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