Your Worst Nightmare.

A full moon hung high in the dark, cloudless sky above me, casting its light on the frozen ground beneath my feet. My toes tingled in my boots as I trudged along, crispy leaves crunching underfoot. My breath formed small clouds in front of me as I pulled my coat tighter. I had always hated Halloween; I hated the idea of ghosts and ghouls but mostly I hated being scared. I never understood why anyone would willingly put themselves in such a situation. Yet somehow Rowan had convinced me that there was nothing better than a haunted house on Halloween. So, there I was, walking through the freezing cold night towards her house, cursing her name under my breath and avoiding dressed up children like the plague.

The incessant sound of squealing and the never-ending sing song of “trick or treat” led me to move my feet faster. As I rounded the corner, Rowan’s house now in sight I broke into a small jog. My nose was running by the time I reached her front door. I knocked, annoyed at the sound of small feet puttering up the walk behind me. I had an overwhelming sense to run. Children don’t have a well-rounded idea of personal space - especially on Halloween. Their grubby little hands touching everything and then possibly me made my skin crawl. I banged on the door louder. Rowan swung the door open wide and I hurtled myself inside just in time. Eight little kids came running up after me, shoving their bags towards the door.

Rowan giggled as she closed the door behind her and turned towards me, sitting on the edge of the staircase leading upstairs, my face all screwed and bothered. She knew I hated Halloween. She had been my best friend since first grade. She knew everything about me. She, on the other hand adored Halloween. She wasn’t like the other girls at school who dressed up to show off as much skin as they could get away with. She loved nothing more than dressing up like something dead and gross and scaring the shit out of anyone around. I admired her for that.

With a cheesy grin and a loud exclamation that she’d be home late, Rowan grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet, leading me to the garage. I sat in the front seat of her red Jetta with my arms crossed and a stern expression spread across my face. Rowan leaned over and cranked the radio up as the creaking intro to Thriller filled the car. She smiled at me and pulled out of the driveway, careful not to hit any small trick-or-treaters.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up in front of a dark field, corn stalks blowing gently in the brisk breeze. My heart stopped in my chest and I held my breath. There were no ghosts or monsters, lights or obnoxious sound systems filtering out creepy music. No entrance with some ghoulish man cackling behind his makeup, taking our money and telling us to enter if we dare. There was only a field of corn bathed in moonlight on what looked to be an abandoned farm.

“Oh, hell no! This is not what I agreed to.” I scowled at Rowan as I pulled my arms tighter around my chest, still buckled into the car.

“It will be fun,” Rowan sang, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Besides, haunted houses are overrated. And I promised Max that you’d be here, too.”  

I felt my face flush a deep red, suddenly grateful for the dark of the night. My throat went dry and I glared at Rowan as she pulled down the visor and applied a heavy coat of bright red lipstick. She smacked her lips and wiped a small smudge from the corner of her mouth.

She smiled at me and winked. “Don’t act like you’re not into him. I did you a favor. You’re welcome.”

Just as I went to rebut her appreciation, headlights drowned out the darkness from the backseat. Rowan squealed and quickly jumped out of the car, running towards the driver of the monstrous truck behind us. I watched in the rearview mirror as she jumped into Tate’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, smearing her lipstick all over his mouth.

Max slowly got out of the passenger side of the truck, looking into the car where I sat. With an audible sigh I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door. The wind picked up at that moment, nearly slamming the door shut on my hand. I pulled it away just in time, a small howl escaping my throat out of fear. Max was at my side, asking if I was okay. Again I felt my face flush a fierce red. I pulled my hoodie up over my hair and shoved my hands deep into my pockets.

“Thanks,” I replied quietly. “I’m good.”

Max smiled down at me, his soft brown hair peeking out under his red beanie. We stood silently for a few awkward moments before I turned on my heel and headed towards the other side of the truck. Tate had Rowan pushed up against the truck, their hands groping one another in the dark like feral cats. I scuffed my boot along the gravel of the road and Rowan turned her attention towards me.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “Tate, put me down.”

“Hey, A,” Tate said, slowly placing my best friend back on solid ground, keeping her body in front of him. It was as if I could hear the thoughts in his head. Don’t want to show off the giant boner in my pants.

I looked up at him, and smiled curtly, Max lingering behind me.

“Hey,” I replied. “So, can anyone tell me where the hell we are? This is not what I was told we were doing tonight and I really don’t have a good feeling about this.”

A crow cackled from somewhere in the field, its wings brushing against brittle stalks of corn as it took off in flight. A shiver coursed down my spine.

“Yep, I’m out.” I turned to head back to the car and bumped right into Max’s broad shoulders. My body fumed with embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Max said, his hands on my shoulders. “This place hasn’t been used forever. The farm shut down like, 15 years ago or something. There is supposed to be a big open space in the middle where we can start a fire and tell ghost stories. It’ll be fun.”

“And” Tate chimed in. “From what I hear there are creepy scarecrows cropped up all over the whole field.”

I looked up at Max with his dopey smile and my heart stopped beating momentarily. I wanted to tell him to leave with me, to get the hell away from this terrifying place but the words caught in my throat and I just stood there, staring at him like some love-struck little girl. Rowan twirled past me, turning to smile and wink. She reached out, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the field.

The heavy, tall stalks surrounding me seemed to drown out the rest of the world. The night sky held a smattering of twinkling stars while the moon threw long shadows across the rest of the field. Stalks rustled ahead of me as Tate chased Rowan through the rows, giggling and squealing.

The stalk next to me rustled. Max was behind me and there was no breeze to speak of. I stopped dead in my tracks. Max bumped into me softly.

“Hey, you okay?” his voice was soft and kind.

“Did you hear that? I think someone's in here with us.” My breath was short and quick as I tried to stifle the fear creeping up my throat. I wanted to turn and run back to the car but with Max behind me I was stuck.

“I didn’t hear anything. But, other kids could be out here, too. Trying to scare each other or even us, if they figure out we’re in here. It is Halloween, after all.” I could hear the smile in his voice. He laced his fingers in between mine. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

The voices inside my head screamed otherwise. I gripped his hand tighter as he came up next to me.

“Guys,” Tate called out, his voice distant and muffled. “You have to check this out. Hurry up.”

Max gazed down at me and smiled. We slowly made our way forward, towards Tate and Rowan. The corn in front of us opened up to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing rose a withered, straw stuffed scarecrow. Its clothes were tattered and sun bleached. It had scraggly hair and shaudy stitching holding moldy burlap pieces together. The eyes and mouth were sewn tightly shut, pieces of straw sticking out in odd angles. Something about it made my skin crawl and my jaw tighten.

“Sick, isn’t it?” Tate questioned, poking at it with his shoe. As the leg jostled a bit, a deep breeze caught the corn stalks overhead, sending a terrifying howl through the field. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I dug my nails hard into Max’s hand as I turned to run.

“Hey, hold up,” Max said, pulling me back to the clearing. “It’s just the wind. Everything’s fine.” He smiled at me again and squeezed my trembling hand. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

As the words escaped his mouth something behind me chuckled softly in my ear. A small, tiny whisper, barely audible but enough that the hairs on my neck stood up and tears formed in my eyes.

“Atlas,” Max questioned, concern filling his voice. “Atlas, are you okay? I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Both of my hands were now in his. He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

He leaned in and kissed my cheek gently then wrapped his arms around me. He smelled of sandalwood and weed. I breathed him in deeply, fearing it would be the last good smell I would ever know.

“Come on,” yelled Rowan. “We need to find this clearing so we can start a fire. Tate brought stuff for s’mores and I’m dying for chocolate.”

“Come on,” whispered Max. “I got you.”

We walked further into the cornfield and farther away from help if we needed. I could have sworn that damn scarecrow turned to watch as we passed. I was too afraid to turn around and look.

* * *

Finally we found ourselves in what felt like the middle of the cornfield. A giant space opened up around us in a semicircle. On the opposite side of us sat what appeared to be an abandoned barn. The wood was rotten and a faint smell of mold and death circled the air around the slightly ajar door.

Tate and Max started a fire in the makeshift fire pit some other kids had left behind from some other daring adventure. I stared into the darkness of the barn, every alarm bell inside of my brain ringing on high alert. Rowan wrapped her skinny arms around my waist, her body pressed against my back and kissed my cheek.

“See, told you it’d be fun.” She smirked, glancing towards Max. “He’s really into you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Rowan?” I asked, pulling away from her. “This is the scariest thing we’ve ever done. You know I don’t like being scared. You know the kinds of things I’ve been through. What the hell were you thinking?”

“What,” Rowan replied, her voice sticky sweet. “Max is here to keep you safe. And, from the looks of it, you’re into it.”

I stared at her with a deep rage burning inside of me. Ever since she’d started dating Tate, the consideration for me - her lifelong best friend, there through everything - had fallen by the wayside. I missed the girl she used to be. Before she’d had sex and given up on our deeply rooted feminist beliefs. The girl who rallied behind me when I needed it and didn’t put me in shitty situations.

My eyes shifted towards Max. The fire light caught his profile, the flames dancing around just so. He looked even more handsome than before. He noticed me staring and smiled, a small, wry smile. I smiled back and glanced down. Even through the anger burning inside of me, fueled by fear of the dark Halloween night, I understood why Rowan was being the way she was. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her in close. I snuggled my cold nose against her neck.

“Just don’t let anything bad happen tonight, okay?” I pleaded.

* * *

I tried opening my eyes but found them swollen shut, the left one so tightly that they right refused to budge. My head throbbed and I could feel warm liquid pooling around my temple. I shifted my body, trying to sit up. Dry, itchy straw scratched at my bare arms. A thousand thoughts began coursing through my brain as I fought to open my right eye. The smell of the rotten wood from the abandoned barn filled my nose.

Where are my friends? Am I bleeding? Why can’t I open my eyes? Where the hell are my friends?

Panic washed over me like a monsoon. The adrenaline pulsing through me numbed the pain shooting through my entire body and I pushed myself up. I squinted my right eye open as best I could, shoving my hands in front of me to try and feel my surroundings. I was met with darkness. No stars, no moonlight, no bonfire. Only darkness.

I lifted my hand slowly to my temple to the deep gash that was slowly coursing blood down my face. I took a deep breath and edged my hand towards my swollen left eye. A thin, rough thread of twine stitched the bottom lid to the top. My hands trembled as I moved to the right, finding the same twine sewn into my flesh, the end of it dangling against my cheek, as if it hadn’t been finished. A deep, guttural howl escaped my throat. I screamed for what felt like forever. My throat turned dry and sore. Only at the sound of footsteps did I stop.

I pushed myself back, unaware of my surroundings but horrified at what could be coming towards me. I bumped into something hard and thin. I ran my hands along the object, hoping it was something I could use to defend myself with. A sliver from the wood caught in the center of my palm. I let out a small cry then bit my lip, trying to keep myself quiet and hidden in the darkness. Dry straw shuffled around me.

I moved my hand along the wood again, finding rungs of a ladder. I quickly turned and headed up the ladder as quietly as I could. Each rung I grabbed hold of shoved the rotten wood splinter deeper into my hand. It was all I could do to keep from howling out loud. At the top, I felt around blindly, praying that there was enough of a floor that I could hide.

The floor was solid and I pulled myself up, edging to the side, praying to find the wall of the barn. Once I had found a solid wall I curled myself up as small as I could. I placed my left hand over my sewn eye and my right hand over my mouth. I squinted my right eye open as much as I could through the threaded twine. I wanted some kind warning if something was coming.

Below me I heard the shuffling of straw and heavy, thudding footsteps. I did my best to focus on the sounds, where they were coming from, what they were. The shuffling sound was accompanied by a dragging noise. Tears welled in my eyes. I wondered which of my friends were being dragged along the filthy barn floor.

A humming noise started, followed by a deep grunt. I felt something hit the floor below me and tumble to the floor. Another grunt and another thud. One more grunt and silence. The dragging noise continued followed by the sound of rope being tied tightly.

A faint moan.

Rowan.

My heart stopped. Another rope being tied. A terrified scream came barreling from her mouth. Whoever had us let her scream. The humming noise continued. Rowan was sobbing. I could feel the terror through the decrepit wood between us. The humming stopped, as did Rowan’s cries. I held my breath.

“Please! NO!”

As the final word left her mouth a deep gurgling filled the barn, stifled out by the smell of blood. I had to bite my hand to keep from giving myself away. The twine stitched in my eyes tugged as I sobbed into my hands. Metal scraping metal. A swift, slicing noise. More humming. Over and over the noises came and went. Finally, the humming stopped. Two swift chops and Rowan’s body tumbled to the ground with a heavy clunk. More dragging. The smell of blood and death filled the air. I was certain it had seeped into the wood. I inched forward slightly, away from the wall.

The barn door slammed shut. I curled up tighter. I had no idea where I was or what I should do next. I had made it up to the loft of the barn, basically blind and leaving myself nowhere to run. I had no idea where Tate or Max were. All I knew for certain was that Rowan was dead and my eyes had been sewn shut. We were prey for whoever was out here. The barn door slammed again. Heavy footsteps prodded along the straw below me. The floor I sat on shook as the footsteps started up the rotting wood ladder.

I pressed myself backwards, away from the sound. My hand slipped through a hole in the decaying wood behind me. I fell on my back, struggling to pull my arm back through the hole. I twisted my body over to get a better angle, the footsteps growing closer. As I landed on my stomach a searing pain tore through my leg as a rusty pitchfork pierced through my flesh and muscle. I howled a vicious scream as my body was drug along the acrid wood.

Hard as I fought, the pulsing pain through my calf left me useless in my own defense. The pitchfork was pulled out of my leg, tearing my flesh apart. My throat ached from screaming yet I pushed through, praying that someone would hear me. My hands were yanked tightly upward and hogtied to my feet. The hands tying me up were rough and knobby. I was hoisted up and onto the broad shoulders of a man. I could tell this by the stubble as my bare arms scratched against him as he eased his way back down the ladder. He smelled of dirty sweat and blood. I threw up down the length of his arm. He didn’t seem to notice.

I sobbed uncontrollably as I was set down on a bale of hay. The straw poked at my back as I struggled. I squinted my eye open as best I could, the twine tugging at my flesh. The smell of blood was strong and it stained everything around me. I let out a loud howl as I caught a glimpse of Tate and Max. Both were strung up on wooden crosses. Their wrists and knees had been nailed deeply into the wood, blood dripping into puddles on the floor. Their eyes and mouths had been sewn tightly shut and pieces of straw stuck out from between the seams wildly.

A filthy rag was shoved into my mouth and the twine yanked tighter on my right eye. The humming I’d heard earlier droned on behind me. My eyes were drowning in the tears from my eyes. Behind me I heard Max stir slightly. I knew it was him because the noise was distant and Tate was within inches of where I sat.

I yelled beneath the gag, desperate to breathe. His head rolled towards me. I listened as the horror of the situation registered. He tried to scream, tried to move. I sobbed and called out to him. The two of us, blind and broken, screaming for one another.

The humming stopped and the giant man that had drug me from upstairs loomed over Max. He took a pair of rusty, sharp pair of scissors and began stabbing small holes in Max’s cheeks. Max screamed, the twine tugging and tearing at his tightly stitched lips, blood streaming from the wounds in his eyes. He then began stuffing piles of straw in the holes. Max’s body twitched and finally went limp. I shuddered as the sound of his body moving stopped. I screamed as loud as my aching voice would let me.

The rough, gnarled hands lifted my body up and hung the rope tying my hands and feet together on a rusty hook above me. I fought and shook, swaying from side to side. The humming began again, followed by the snip of scissors. I squinted, watching the man take a dirty piece of burlap and drape it over the giant gash along Tate’s neck. I tried to focus, my body in agony as I dangled there. I noticed a small, black dove on the material. Terror overtook my body and the hook started swinging me around wildly. The burlap covering the wound on Tate wasn’t burlap at all. It was skin from Rowan’s back.

Metal on metal. Footsteps coming near. I begged for my life, unable to be heard through the filthy, blood stained rag gagging out any words I could form. After the first slice my body went into shock and the room went dark.

The following morning the farmer replaced two of the old, rotting scarecrows sitting at the edge of the property with Tate and Max, dumping the old ones in the fire pit along with what was left of me and Rowan. He covered us all with old corn and dried leaves. The flames grew strong and the smoke pitch black. He pulled a rusty old tow truck from a garage behind the barn and pulled Tate’s truck and Rowan’s Jetta into a back lot full of old, rusted out cars next to a sign that read Junkyard, call for details.

“God damn kids.” The farmer headed back to the old farm house just beyond the acrid barn as an old crow landed on Max, picking at the open wounds.