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Northern Wolf Reflections
Creative thoughts from the far corners of my mind....

My stories are dedicated to everyone 
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I have been very busy over the last few months setting up my new business in Hamilton and as a result there just hasn't been time to write new stories.  In the following months, spurred on by a bit of personal success I hope to change that.  I will still be working hard but hopefully I can take some time to entertain while I'm at it.  If you are here for the first time there are lots of stories in the archives to keep you busy, if you are a returning reader, I will do my best to give you something new ASAP.  That's the shame about wrting sometimes life gets in the way..... 
 
For anyone interested in my past writings, there are lots of other stories in the archives.  Just click on the catagory that you want and it will take you right to that index, just like magic.  Poof.
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copyright 2004, James Lizotte
The Scarecrow



I remember that Halloween like it was yesterday, though almost ten years has passed.  Of course there are certain things that stick in your mind, some good, some bad, some just really strange, and I guess this memory held just a bit of all three.

Living in a small rural town had its perks.  Everyone had an actual yard, not a postage stamp, you knew your neighbours and most of them were pretty decent.  My mother had a small vegetable garden at the back of the house and this one year I decided I would ask if I could grow my own pumpkin patch.

“I don’t know about a patch but I guess we could squeeze in a couple of plants.”  She said with a smile.  “I’ll pick up a package of seeds when I’m at the market later this week.”

I was thrilled.  I had always wanted to grow my own Jack o’ lantern and now I finally had my chance.  Truth was I had been planning to ask for months so I had saved my own seeds from the pumpkin carved the year before.  I ran back to my room and pulled out the bag quickly returning to show my mother what a good little boy scout I had been, totally prepared for her yes.

“Ewww, Joey where have you been hiding those things, they’re practically covered in mould.”

“I saved them from last year.  I wanted to grow the pumpkin from scratch and save you money.”

“That maybe thoughtful but you probably should have cleaned them off first and now I don’t think they’ll grow.  Besides they are much too dry, I’ll get you some new ones later.”

I don’t know why I had to be so insistent, I just was.  I gave her the old, “But Mom!!!”  In the high whiney tone that every mother hates to hear.

“I told you Joey those are disgusting, throw them out now.”

“But I’m just planting them.”  They definitely were disgusting, kind of sticky and green, why I wouldn’t listen, I still don’t know.

My mother must have figured I made a good point cause she caved quickly.  “Okay you can plant two of them then throw the rest out.”  She just figured I’d learn the hard way and it would save 50 cents on a package of seeds.

I ran out right away bent on fulfilling my little mission.  I picked the two gooiest, smelliest ones, stuck my finger in the ground just deep enough and shoved them in covering each over with a little mound of soil.  I could picture growing the biggest most perfect pumpkin that the town had ever seen.  People would come for miles to pay real money to see it.  Guess I had myself set up to be the Donald Trump of the pumpkin world. 

The months of summer passed and I watered the plants every day but no monster sized pumpkin ever grew.  Although maybe choosing those words to describe it meant one did grow.  It was a decent sized pumpkin, mostly average I’d say, but it was the perfect shape and when October rolled around and I cut it from the vine, my mother was quite impressed.

“Gee, did you really grow that?”  She said winking at me.

“You know I did.  It’s not as big as I wanted but I think I can make a neat Jack o’ lantern with it.”

“Actually that’s a pretty good size, I think I might have a little farmer on my hands.”

I could tell she was just being nice in the way that all mothers are nice to their children when they first do something by themselves.  “Oooo did you do a poopey in the potty.”  Or “wow what a yummy mud pie and made out of real mud too.  I’m gonna save that to eat later.”  I know she didn’t eat it but it was the thought that counted.

I quickly carved open the top scooping out the innards in a gloppy mess.  There was already something strange but at ten you wouldn’t really notice the insides were the wrong colour, more of a green and purple than the proper colour that pumpkin guts should be.  Still the outside looked good that was all that mattered to me.

It took me two hours to get the face just right.  The eyes were wide but I’d managed to carve it so that little pupils hung about half way down.  There was the usual triangle nose and sort of an ear shape for the ears, but the mouth was a masterpiece.  The grin was wide with lots of teeth and the corners turned up in such a way that there was no sign of happiness to the smile.  When you looked at it closely it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, at that moment I felt like a real artist, but I couldn’t stop there.

My mother had broken a broom a couple of weeks earlier and that was when I got the idea, it needed a body.  She had thrown the stick out but I pulled it out of the trash later.  I found another decent sized branch in the back yard and fastened them together with some old twine and a nail.  I had some old overalls, a flannel shirt, and managed to bum some straw off the old farmer down the road.  A pair of my mothers gardening gloves offered the finishing touch.  My scarecrow was complete.

When my mother first saw it she was impressed but I could tell that she wasn’t completely comfortable with it.  “Oooo, what a scary scarecrow.”  There was an actual quiver in her voice.

“Yeah I think it’s really neat.  Can we put it up in the yard?”

“Sure just put it in the back garden where all good scarecrows belong.”

I got a pouty look on my face, the best one I could force at the time.  “But no one will see it there!  Halloween is only a week away, can’t I put it in the front yard by the path?”

Once again she always had a tough time saying no, even though I could tell she didn’t want that face greeting her every time she came home.  Reluctantly she agreed, my creations home could be in the front yard but just for the week.

Up to this point, I am sure you are all thinking what a pleasant little story but I assure you this was never meant to be cute. 

The next day after “Jack” was put up I walked off to school in the usual manner, stopping briefly to admire my handiwork.  The smile was so creepy, I almost didn’t even remember it being that wide, and the eyes stared with the little pupils following down the path.  I know it was my imagination, at least I think it was.

Every neighborhood has one bad apple and in ours it was Mr. Lawton across the road.  He was a mean old man and owned a mutt, that as far as we knew, he beat on a regular basis.  When I walked past that house the dog would jump on the fence barking and snarling.  I always walked faster until I was at least fifty feet down the road.

That day was pretty much uneventful and coming home nothing had changed.  Jack still stood where I had placed him, the dog still came at me with all the ferocity of a mountain lion.  It wasn’t till the next morning that I began to get just a little scared.

Walking past I looked up at the scarecrows face and realized that it had changed somehow.  It was no longer facing directly at the path, it had turned more in the direction of Mr. Lawton’s house.  I dismissed this as a trick of the wind, and swung it back to overlook the path once more.  My only problem was I’d swear the mouth almost held a scowl rather than a grin, again it had to be my imagination.

Three days before Halloween, I awoke to loud yelling out in the street.  It sounded like old Mr. Lawton, but he was so reclusive he’d never be out at that time of the day.  “Spike! Spike!, You come home this instant!”  He yelled with a snarl.

I went to my window looking across to see the old man walking around in his bathrobe, carrying a big club.  He seemed perplexed as he went to his front gate and opened and closed it a couple of times just to see if the latch worked.  His yard was completely enclosed, there was no way for Spike to be missing unless he jumped the fence.

I thought nothing of it till I started down the path.  Jack was back to staring at Mr. Lawton’s yard.  The old man had given up, he’d searched for an hour and Spike was nowhere to be found.  I grabbed hold of my scarecrows arm and swung it to face me then let go quickly falling to the ground in startled horror.

The scarecrow had more weight to it, in fact it looked like it had a pot belly.   The pupils in the eyes seemed bigger and the grin was back, but the teeth were pointy and I’d swear I never carved them that way.  The most terrifying thing was a small stain on the front of the flannel shirt.  It had to be ketchup, there was nothing else it could be.  I just kept telling myself that because I didn’t really want to believe anything else.

That night walking home there was no Spike waiting, instead I was welcomed only by that thing in the front yard.  Secretly, I had never blamed the dog for being mean so I almost felt bad that it was gone.  Mr. Lawton, on the other hand, was a real piece of work.  As far as one could tell he hated everything and it should have been against the law for him to own an animal in the first place.  I remember thinking if anything should have gone missing it should have been him.

I wanted to take Jack down, yet I couldn’t figure out what I would tell my mother.  I knew she wouldn’t be upset at it’s disappearance however I couldn’t explain rationally why I wanted it gone, so I left him there.

The night before Halloween, I was sure I heard movement in our front yard, so I got up to peer out.  It was pretty dark but I could see Jack, standing where he always was staring silently down the path towards the road.  I went back to bed but couldn’t sleep, if I tried I just had dreams of what happened to poor old Spike.  Jack falling upon him devouring him like some ancient beast trying to satisfy a demonic hunger. 

In the morning the street was still eerily quiet.  It was Saturday so I didn’t have to go to school, yet something drew me out to the front yard.  The scarecrow was again facing in the wrong direction, aimed at Mr. Lawton’s house.  I slowly swung it back not sure what I would find but sure I would find something.  I wasn’t disappointed.

Again it was heavier, and the belly seemed to have swollen to twice its original size.  The eyes were wide, but the grin was huge and the teeth were now pointed like daggers.  I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing, but the ketchup, and I will always swear it was ketchup, had spread to cover most of the front of the shirt.  I never told anyone about this, and my mother never looked close enough, but no one ever would have believed it anyway.

It was a week before anyone even noticed he was gone.  The mail piled up as did the papers, and eventually the Sheriff came around to check on the old man.  I could have told him they wouldn’t find anything, in fact I knew they wouldn't find anything.  To this day Mr. Lawton is still listed as a missing person, and I don’t think it is likely they will ever find hide nor hair of him any time in the future.

As for Jack, the funny part of it was the day after Halloween I walked out to the yard and his head had exploded all over the front lawn.  My mother said it was just some kids who must have taken a baseball bat to it, but I don’t think so.  Either way I guess we’ll never know.

That was a long time ago.  Now I’m in college, doing pretty well but I do have this one pain in the butt professor, and nobody likes him.  A couple months ago I went home to visit mom, she still lives in the same house with the same little garden and you know I still had a couple of those seeds stashed.  They were pretty raunchy but grew a decent sized pumpkin, and I think I know just what I’m going to do with it this year.         

This Artwork courtesy of Heather Lizotte-Campbell
2004,  Imaginative twist on an old farming favorite
2004, who knows what the fires may hold
2003, whats halloween without  a few Zombies
2003, One of my original classics
both of these hail from a novel I have written, still quite scary
Other Halloween Stories
And my newest ghost story on the title page