Whispers and shadows filled the night as Billy Bob, with head down and eyes darting left, followed the curve of the river bank through the dense woods and toward the open field that lay ahead. Mosquitoes buzzed around Billy Bob's pimply face while fireflies flashed in the distance. Prior precision planning predicted the clouds now covering the scant quarter moon this night of July twenty-seventh in Cowee County, Alabama. It was the night of the "Big R."

Arbee Brown , Chucky LeRue and Billy Bob, inseparable since first grade, were known as "The Three Musketeers," one for all and all for one. Linked unit thinking had gone into effect earlier that week as they lazed in their cardboard "no girls allowed" clubhouse while thoughts of watermelon filled their heads.

Chubby Chucky, although no one would dare call him Chubby to his face, was first to ask in his slow drawl, "Hey, ya know ole man Cruthers carn field? Out thar past the Four Corners...well my Ma sent me over to pick up sugar from Sue's house the otter day and there ain't no carn in dat field. It's plum full of huge melons..biggest melons I've eve' seen. Jusssst rite for pickin! 'Nother week and they'll be trucked ta town and that thar field will be as empty as ma stomach is rat now." His stubby hands massaged layers of abdominal fat.

Arby's big brown eyes narrowed as his brain registered the delight he might feel as he bit into a sweet, juicy, ripe on the vine, STOLEN watermelon. Billy Bob looked from face to face and HE knew..THEY knew..what they HAD to do. Thus the plotting began, an easy escape from home, a proven foolproof start. If everything else was as simple, it would be a cinch. The conspiracy was code named "The Big R"...short for The Big Raid. Crafty and wise beyond their years, (at least in their own minds), they spoke in whispers in the privacy of their own clubhouse, and in hushed tones over the phones at night as the connivance took shape. A call to Billy Bob's cousin, who reported weather at the local KRAC radio station, assured them that "a chance of a thunderstorm" would provide clouds to cover the thin sliver of existing moon this coming Saturday night, the night of the "Big R."

The loot could be toted away from the melon patch in gunny sacks purchased from the feed and grain store. Arby volunteered to take care of this. Chucky divided black grease paint from last Halloween's "Thrills and Chills" make-up kit so they could camouflage their face, neck and hands. Black pants, black long sleeved shirt, black shoes and black baseball caps would be the uniform of the night. Thrills of excitement coursed through their nervous systems as the days crept ever closer to the bewitching hour of July 27th.. Since they would come from three separate directions, they would meet at the south end of Cruthers melon patch. Billy Bob's route would take him through a dense thicket of woods..woods, where stories of shadowy creatures who cried out in everlasting agony, were believed as truth in the hearts of the story tellers. At almost six feet tall and still growing , size alone precluded Billy Bob from admitting to fear of the dark..fear of ghost stories. Midnight..Saturday..he would be there.

"What was that?" Billy Bob asked himself as he stopped dead in his tracks. He had never ventured into these woods at night. Other times he had occasion to be on this path, daylight times, the woods had seemed like a haven, with a leaf canopy to filter out the hottest rays of the sun, and tree branches which lent perches to song birds and overgrown thickets in which baby bunnies made their homes. He was familiar with these peaceful sights and sounds of the forest...but...........

"What was that?" In answer to his question, he could hear only the sound of the mosquitoes buzzing around his head, and then in the distance the first low grumbling of thunder. MAYBE the moaning that he thought he heard had only been the sigh of wind between the trees. Clenching his teeth, he took control of his shaking legs and willed them to slowly move forward through the pitch black. After all, it couldn't be MUCH farther to the edge of Cruthers melon patch where his allies waited. Where had he heard it said, there is safety in numbers? Did that only apply to herds of animals on the plains of Africa described on the Discovery Channel? He shook his head. This was not the time for deep deliberation. Thunder roared and lightning struck so close the dense woods were illuminated with a erie flash which sucked away all caution and gave wings of flight to Billy Bobs feet. He bolted the last 50 yards with a velocity so great he could hear only wind and rain whistle past his ears.

"Hey! What's wrong with you? Here we are! Over here!" hissed Arby. Billy Bob's momentum had taken him out of the woods and past his two friends kneeling at the edge of the field. Chucky and Arby squinted through the blackness trying to identify what, in the light of the last bolt of lightning, looked like Old Man Cruthers with a shotgun in the crook of his arm. Chucky grabbed hold of Billy Bob's sleeve and pulled him down beside them.

"Do you see that?" Chucky murmured.

Wiping running black make-up out of his eyes, and still visibly shaken, Billy Bob croaked, "You should have saw what I saw back there in the woods!" He turned toward his co-conspirators. They looked as distressed as he felt. "What am I suppose' ta see?"

"There!" It's gettin' closer!" Chucky declared in a hoarse whisper. "Naw....Oh Geeze......Oww.......Now I see it...........uhh................uhh.

A-haa.......it's just a Scarecrow! You big scartypants!" Now Billy Bob was back in control. He could be fearless in the face of the "known." This was JUST a bunch of cornstalks tied together with a broom stick under it's arm.

Bent over in a half crouch, they stealthily advanced into the melon patch. The rain was pounding down in buckets and the ground had turned to slimy clay mud under their feet as they passed small melons they deemed not worth their bother. They would have only the biggest...the ripest...the sweetest melons in this field!

Three pairs of eyes focused simultaneously on the melon of their dreams and schemes! Arby quickly encircled it in the opening of his gunny sack. With a push from Chucky it slipped into the sack with no room to spare. As they started to straighten up, their auditory senses were assaulted by a high pitched banshee squeal, a squeal of such intensity that it could be heard over the pounding of the sheet of rain which enveloped the night. This ear piercing shriek was coming from the open mouth of the scarecrow form soaring directly toward them. Eyes glowing like hot coals and coat tails flapping in the wind, it created a spectacle of terror. Minds raced with fear, as feet, unable to find footing in the slimy muck, turned the debacle into a scene from a three stooges movie. Gunny sacks and watermelon were left behind as they finally found traction and took off across the field, the ghostly apparition disappearing into black nothingness.

Safe in the confines of the now drooping, wet cardboard, clubhouse, they went over and over the events of the night. What was it?..Where did it come from??...Could it find them right now???... How safe were they, really? Would it come to their beds in the middle of the night, hell-bent on restitution? The rain had stopped. The night had turned cold and so had they. They returned home to lay in bed with lights on and eyes wide open till dawn. The ghostly scarecrow apparition did not visit any of the three frightened musketeers that night.

Sunday morning dawned bright with a kiss of dry sunshine on wet flora. If you expected respect and acceptance from your peers, and resided in Dundee, Alabama, church was never a decision, it was mandatory. And so it was that Arbee Brown, Chucky LaRue and Billy Bob DeGraff sat with their families, in separate pews, at the First Baptist Church that morning. The songs had been sung..the baskets had been pased. The sermon began. In a loud and mighty voice, Reverend Davis eulogized the honest man. The man or woman who never would think of stealing from their neighbor, who worked diligently to put in crops, harvest the bounty and honestly make a living.

The three tennage "Musketeers" squirmed on the hardwood benches as the good Reverend preached hellfire damnation to theives. Each boy thought he was being singled out when a finger from the pulpit pointed toward the congregation for emphasis.

Finally, Billy Bob could stand it no more. His head turned toward the back of the church in search of either one of his compatriots. During this quick scan, his eyes came to rest on the face of... Oh.. NO!.......Old Man Cruthers? Before Billy could whirl around to face front, Cruthers lips opened, while his left eye closed, and quickly opened again!

Was that a wink???

The scarecrow phantom was a God fearing mortal?

Couldn't be....Could it???

"Oh God, I hope so," Billy silently prayed.

???THE END ???

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page