She could almost hear her, her voice echoing in the wind.
‘Fair’s fair,’ she said.
Margaret laughed as she put the gun to the horse’s head and pulled the trigger.
*
When she got home, Bernie was right there, still, at the foot of the stairs. How she ever mistook him for someone else, she didn't know. For some reason, she thought his face had been covered by some stitched up, rotten old hood, made from sackcloth. But it hadn't. It had just been dark, and she had just been scared.
She stared at the hole in him, his ragged, ruined lips, grinning at her. There was blood on his teeth, and barbed wire hanging from his legs. The straw they'd stuffed in his shirt poked here and there, some stiff and coarse, still, and some damp and brown and red with blood or mud.
She never did call the police.
What would they do? Nothing. Nothing at all. In the end, he'd be taken away, buried in some stretch of dirt that meant nothing to anyone but a God he never believed mattered, and one he certainly never trusted.
Bernie had trusted worms and crows, the seasons and the mud beneath his boots.
She made a cup of coffee, which she drank, sitting on the bottom step, so she could share a little time with her husband. After, she stood, her legs weak still, but better, and went to the barn. There, from a broken handle from a rusted old rake, she made a rough kind of splint for her wrist and bound it all with twine. She couldn't feel it anyway, it didn't seem to matter much.
The rest of the day, she spent collecting straw. That night, she sewed. One handed, but she was never amazed at the things she could do. If a woman puts her mind to it, she thought as she sewed by the lamplight, she can do pretty much anything.
Margaret hadn't slept for nearly three days. She was frightened to sleep, and she hated that fear more than anything. All through the night, as she worked, she jumped at each sound, and looked around wildly.
Like a rabbit. A scared little rabbit.
She hated that more than anything at all.
So she worked, her eyes heavy but each time she felt herself drift, she got up and made more coffee, then worked some more.
By the light of a lantern she dug a deep hole out in the field. The rain came down hard, and the work was hard. Her feet slipped and her one good hand grew blood and slick on the handle of the spade. But it kept her awake.
Maybe it kept her sane, too.
While she dug, out in the field, she thought she could hear slow, old footsteps, like an old gypsy woman, creeping around in the shade, sliding through the mud. Laughing, maybe.
But there was nothing there.
By morning, the scarecrow stood proud in the field again, and in the first light of a new day, Margaret sat on her porch with a hot coffee in her bloody, aching hand.
'Better than stuck in the mud, eh?'
After a while, the crows came back. Turned out Bernard was as useless at being a scarecrow as everything else. But it didn't matter to Margaret. That was never the why of it.
Each morning, when she took her coffee, she smiled. When her neighbours laughed at the thing out there in her field, the scarecrow that became more ragged with each passing season, she never took offense. She never had paid them any mind anyway.
The scarecrow wasn't for crows, either. Bernard never had minded the crows, and neither did she. But her scarecrow did his job, there in the middle of her field. His job was scaring the bad things away, the kind of things that people in their warm homes, surrounded by laughter, would likely never see.
But she knew nightmares were real. She knew they lived, whether by the light of day or in the cold, dark night.
Yet she never felt alone in her rambling farmhouse as the months, then years, rolled by. She was happy. Surrounded by her beautiful fields and well-fed crows and with her straw man out there to watch over her, Margaret knew she'd be just fine.
The End
About the Author
Craig Saunders is the author of many novels and novellas, including 'Masters of Blood and Bone', 'The Estate' and 'Deadlift'. He writes across many genres, but horror, humour and fantasy are his favourites.
Craig lives in Norfolk, England, with his wife and children, likes nice people and good coffee. Find out more on Amazon, or visit:
www.craigrsaunders.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/craigrsaundersauthor
@Grumblesprout
Read on for a free sample of the Mulrones' Novella 'Flesh and Coin', and for a list of some more British authors you might enjoy.
Thank you for reading.
Craig
Also by Craig Saunders
Novels
The Dead Boy
Left to Darkness
Masters of Blood and Bone
Damned to Cold Fire (previously published as 'The Estate')
A Home by the Sea
RAIN
Vigil
The Noose and Gibbet
A Stranger's Grave
The Love of the Dead
Spiggot
Spiggot, Too
BLOOD DRUGS TEA (previously published as 'The Gold Ring')
Novels
The Dead Boy
Left to Darkness
Masters of Blood and Bone
Damned to Cold Fire (previously published as 'The Estate')
A Home by the Sea
RAIN
Vigil
The Noose and Gibbet
A Stranger's Grave
The Love of the Dead
Spiggot
Spiggot, Too
BLOOD DRUGS TEA (previously published as 'The Gold Ring')
The Devil Lied
Novellas
UNIT 731
Death by a Mother's Hand
Days of Christmas
Flesh and Coin
Bloodeye
Deadlift
A Scarecrow to Watch over Her
The Walls of Madness
Insulation
Short Story Collections
Dead in the Trunk (Vol. I)
Angels in Black and White (Vol. II)
Dark Words (Vol. III)
The Cold Inside (Vol. IV)
Writing as Craig R. Saunders:
The Outlaw King (The Line of Kings Trilogy Book One)
The Thief King (The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Two)
The Queen of Thieves (The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three)
Rythe Awakes (The Rythe Quadrilogy Book One)
The Tides of Rythe (The Rythe Quadrilogy Book Two)
Rythe Falls (The Rythe Quadrilogy Book Three)
Beneath Rythe (The Rythe Quadrilogy Book Four)
Thank you for reading. If you're looking for other horror/dark fiction to try from British authors, here are a few you might enjoy:
Iain Rob Wright (www.iainrobwright.com)
Bestselling author of Horror and Suspense. Active member of the Horror Writer’s Association.
Matt Shaw (www.mattshawpublications.co.uk)
Horror’s Darkest Imagination. EXTREME CONTENT.
Greg James (www.manderghastpress.co.uk)
Horror and Grimdark Fantasy.
Ian Woodhead (www.ianwoodhead.moonfruit.com)
A master of nightmares.
Graeme Reynolds (www.graemereynolds.com)
Dark tales from a twisted mind.
Jacob Rayne (www.jacobrayne.worpress.com)
Writer of gritty and disturbing horror fiction
Tim Miller (www.timmiller.org)
Extreme Horror Author.
Michael Bray (www.michaelbrayauthor.com)
Bestselling author of Whisper, a #1 hit!
Stuart Keane (www.stuartkeane.com)
Author of compelling horror stories and member of the Horror Writer’s Association.
rchive.
A Scarecrow to Watch over Her (A Horror Novella) Page 7