Cycle by Brian J. Jarrett

Author:Brian J. Jarrett [Jarrett, Brian J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Elegy Publishing, LLC
Published: 2015-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

“Come on!” Tim yelled. Brett followed right behind as they ran away. “Up there,” he said. “Jensen’s house!”

Ahead of them, a couple hundred yards away, sat Mort Jensen’s modest house, a traditional two-story farm-style place, complete with a stone chimney and a storm cellar.

Tim ran as quickly as he could, being careful not to trip. He’d seen too many horror movies where that sort of thing ended badly. The darkness made it difficult to see much of anything. In the light cast by the risen full moon he could see the scarecrow behind them, covering the distance with little effort.

Tim felt the cold air burn his lungs as he pumped his legs, desperately putting one foot in front of the other. He made sure to keep Brett in his field of vision. He wouldn’t allow the monster behind them to take his best friend.

His mind raced as he ran, trying to make sense of what was happening. The old woman had shot the thing twice and it had no effect on it. That was no person in those clothes. It sounded crazy, but what other explanation could there be? Whatever was chasing them wasn’t human. It couldn’t be.

Tim focused on the house. Jensen could call the cops. They could hide there, behind locked doors, until help arrived.

“Faster,” he said as they closed the distance to the house.

“This is as fast as I can run,” Brett replied.

The terrain below them was bumpy and uneven, slowing their progress. After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the front porch of the house. They ran to the door and began knocking, looking back at their pursuer, but the scarecrow was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did it go?” Brett asked.

“I don’t know,” Tim said. “But we need to get the cops here.” He knocked again on the door. “Hello? Mr. Jensen? Are you in there? We need help!”

Panting, the pair waited, casting furtive glances back toward the way from which they’d come. The field remained clear, with no sign of the scarecrow.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Tim mumbled to himself as he waited in front of the door. He knocked again, harder this time. “Mr. Jensen!” he yelled. “We need help! Please open the door!”

“What is that thing?” Brett asked.

“I don’t know.”

“That was a person, right?”

Tim didn’t answer.

“It had to be a person,” Brett said, as if trying to convince himself. “It couldn’t be anything else, right?”

“Mr. Jensen!” Tim yelled.

A light came on in the house, followed by the shuffling of feet.

“He’s home!” Tim said, smiling. He danced anxiously in place.

A moment later the door opened. Mort Jensen appeared, dressed in long underwear with a shotgun in his hands. He pointed it at the boys. “You two better have a dang good reason for knocking on my door this late at night,” he said.

Tim and Brett took a step backward at the sight of the gun. “Mr. Jensen, somebody’s chasing us and we need you to call the police,” Tim said.

“He’s dressed up like your scarecrow,” Brett added.

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