Squirrel Hunting
By Andy Morris
This wasn’t the first time Jack had bunked off school to go squirrel hunting. The mountain bikes thick tires kicked up dirt as he raced down the twisting paths, Ringwood Forest. Ahead of him, a squirrel scampered through the trees. Jack pulled on the brakes and watched the dumb rodent for a moment, wishing he had his air rifle with him. Ever since his Uncle Bill had given him the gun he’d been practising shooting squirrels and he reckoned he could easily hit it from this distance. Jack pretended to aim his air rifle and fire at the little bugger. It scurried away into the trees and Jack sniggered loudly to himself. That’s when he realised he wasn’t alone.
Somewhere nearby music was playing. A ringtone on someone’s phone, maybe? The tune had been playing for some time, he realised, but he’d only really noticed it now. There was no one nearby. Maybe someone had dropped it? In which case, he sneered deliciously; finders keepers – he could do with a new phone. He laid his bike down and stepped off the path into the long grass and knotted weeds, following the sound. He stumbled a few more paces before emerging into a small clearing. The sound was coming from a pile of dirty rags dumped against a tree. But on closer inspection, Jack observed, the rags were actually an old scarecrow someone had abandoned.
The phone was in the pocket of the scarecrow’s tattered jacket and there was defiantly no one around. Its hessian head was lolling downwards from its wooden pole but something about the straw-stuffed mannequin didn’t feel right. Beneath its floppy farmer’s hat, someone had stitched a bizarre mouth that was twisted into an exaggerated grin. Its eyes were weird as well: The way those black buttons reflected the sunlight almost made them look real. But that was stupid.
Jack decided he’d come back here with Kev and Darren later on and they’d take the scarecrow up to Carvers Field and use it to scare other kids. Grinning mischievously he went to retrieve the phone. He reached out, just about to take it when the tune abruptly stopped. The woods were plunged into sudden silence. The birds had stopped chirping and the leaves were no longer whispering overhead. Jack hesitated, like a rabbit caught in the beam of Bill’s hunting lamp. A cold tension now flooded the clearing. Nothing moved, including Jack.
What was it doing here anyway? Jack wondered. There were no fields for miles around. The scarecrow seemed to take on a sinister aspect as a cloud crossed over the autumn sun.
He’d never really liked scarecrows. Not since he was younger and watched a horror film about scarecrow’s that came to life and terrorised a family in an abandoned farmhouse…
What was that?
Jack thought he heard a noise behind him. He glanced back as casually as he could but there was nothing there. He must have imagined it. But the abruptness of the sound didn’t feel like it had come from his imagination. It had been too real. He turned back the ragged scarecrow.
Had it moved?
Nah, it was just the shadows of the branches overhead. He should probably just get the phone and go.
What if it does move?
Jack’s mind unwillingly conjured scenes from the horror film and he saw the scarecrow slowly opening its peculiar mouth, revealing rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth.
Stop it you worse!He thought, glancing impatiently over at his mountain bike. Turning back at the gangly frame of the scarecrow he half expectedit to be moving. A sudden urge to return to his bike filled him with panic. He tried to ignore it but his imagination wouldn’t let him.
There was that sound again! Slow rustling; like someone shuffling through dried leaves – he couldn’t ignore that either.
This is ridiculous, man!
He swung around. A crow suddenly took flight overhead, flapping its wings and cracking the stillness of the glade. Jack’s eyes snapped upwards to watch it fly away. Clouds still shrouded the low hanging sun. He glanced back down, at the creepy-looking scarecrow; still staring back at him.
It’s just a mouldy old scarecrow, you idiot. A pile of old rags. It can’t…
It moved!
Jack froze.
A breeze moaned through the trees, ruffling the brim of the hat. In his mind’s eye, Jack saw the scarecrow's head look up towards him. It shifted its creaking arm to point at him, beckoning him closer. Gooseflesh prickled his arms and his stomach sank.
There was no way he was going any closer to it. Forget the stupid phone! He’d come back later with Kev and Darren and they’d smash up the scarecrow; that would be fun!
Still, he couldn't shake the images in his head; of the freaky scarecrow coming to life and shambling clumsily towards him. He watched it getting up in sharp jerky movements and advance towards him in time to a cacophony of shrieking violins.
Jack cast his eyes downwards and took a step backwards. He couldn’t look at it anymore.
Stop it. He told himself. It’s not real!
Something moved behind him.
He spun around to see the second pair of black soulless eyes staring at him from the edge of the clearing. To his right another silent figure emerged from the trees, then another and another. Suddenly dozens of figures were emerging from woods. They encircled the clearing, watching him through black emotionless eyes. Then at some unspoken command, they surged forwards. Jack’s terrified screams echoed through the empty forest as he was attacked, by a gang of mean angry squirrels.
Somewhere nearby music was playing. A ringtone on someone’s phone, maybe? The tune had been playing for some time, he realised, but he’d only really noticed it now. There was no one nearby. Maybe someone had dropped it? In which case, he sneered deliciously; finders keepers – he could do with a new phone. He laid his bike down and stepped off the path into the long grass and knotted weeds, following the sound. He stumbled a few more paces before emerging into a small clearing. The sound was coming from a pile of dirty rags dumped against a tree. But on closer inspection, Jack observed, the rags were actually an old scarecrow someone had abandoned.
The phone was in the pocket of the scarecrow’s tattered jacket and there was defiantly no one around. Its hessian head was lolling downwards from its wooden pole but something about the straw-stuffed mannequin didn’t feel right. Beneath its floppy farmer’s hat, someone had stitched a bizarre mouth that was twisted into an exaggerated grin. Its eyes were weird as well: The way those black buttons reflected the sunlight almost made them look real. But that was stupid.
Jack decided he’d come back here with Kev and Darren later on and they’d take the scarecrow up to Carvers Field and use it to scare other kids. Grinning mischievously he went to retrieve the phone. He reached out, just about to take it when the tune abruptly stopped. The woods were plunged into sudden silence. The birds had stopped chirping and the leaves were no longer whispering overhead. Jack hesitated, like a rabbit caught in the beam of Bill’s hunting lamp. A cold tension now flooded the clearing. Nothing moved, including Jack.
What was it doing here anyway? Jack wondered. There were no fields for miles around. The scarecrow seemed to take on a sinister aspect as a cloud crossed over the autumn sun.
He’d never really liked scarecrows. Not since he was younger and watched a horror film about scarecrow’s that came to life and terrorised a family in an abandoned farmhouse…
What was that?
Jack thought he heard a noise behind him. He glanced back as casually as he could but there was nothing there. He must have imagined it. But the abruptness of the sound didn’t feel like it had come from his imagination. It had been too real. He turned back the ragged scarecrow.
Had it moved?
Nah, it was just the shadows of the branches overhead. He should probably just get the phone and go.
What if it does move?
Jack’s mind unwillingly conjured scenes from the horror film and he saw the scarecrow slowly opening its peculiar mouth, revealing rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth.
Stop it you worse!He thought, glancing impatiently over at his mountain bike. Turning back at the gangly frame of the scarecrow he half expectedit to be moving. A sudden urge to return to his bike filled him with panic. He tried to ignore it but his imagination wouldn’t let him.
There was that sound again! Slow rustling; like someone shuffling through dried leaves – he couldn’t ignore that either.
This is ridiculous, man!
He swung around. A crow suddenly took flight overhead, flapping its wings and cracking the stillness of the glade. Jack’s eyes snapped upwards to watch it fly away. Clouds still shrouded the low hanging sun. He glanced back down, at the creepy-looking scarecrow; still staring back at him.
It’s just a mouldy old scarecrow, you idiot. A pile of old rags. It can’t…
It moved!
Jack froze.
A breeze moaned through the trees, ruffling the brim of the hat. In his mind’s eye, Jack saw the scarecrow's head look up towards him. It shifted its creaking arm to point at him, beckoning him closer. Gooseflesh prickled his arms and his stomach sank.
There was no way he was going any closer to it. Forget the stupid phone! He’d come back later with Kev and Darren and they’d smash up the scarecrow; that would be fun!
Still, he couldn't shake the images in his head; of the freaky scarecrow coming to life and shambling clumsily towards him. He watched it getting up in sharp jerky movements and advance towards him in time to a cacophony of shrieking violins.
Jack cast his eyes downwards and took a step backwards. He couldn’t look at it anymore.
Stop it. He told himself. It’s not real!
Something moved behind him.
He spun around to see the second pair of black soulless eyes staring at him from the edge of the clearing. To his right another silent figure emerged from the trees, then another and another. Suddenly dozens of figures were emerging from woods. They encircled the clearing, watching him through black emotionless eyes. Then at some unspoken command, they surged forwards. Jack’s terrified screams echoed through the empty forest as he was attacked, by a gang of mean angry squirrels.