The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight Read Online Free PDF Page B

into the darkness. “Grandpa Kurt?” I called, struggling to catch my breath.
    My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. I stepped deeper into the barn. “Grandpa Kurt?” Are you here?”
    Hearing a soft scraping sound against the far wall, I made my way toward it. “Grandpa Kurt — can I talk to you? I really need to talk to you!” My voice sounded tiny and frightened in the big dark barn. My sneakers scraped over the dry straw floor as I walked toward the back.
    I spun around as I heard a rumbling sound.
    The light grew dimmer.
    “Hey!” I shouted. Too late.
    The barn door was sliding shut.
    “Hey! Who’s there?” I cried out in stunned anger. “Hey — stop!”
    I slipped over the straw as I started to lurch toward the sliding door. I fell down hard but quickly scrambled to my feet.
    I darted toward the door. But I wasn’t fast enough.
    As the heavy door rumbled shut, the rectangle of light grew narrower, narrower.
    The door slammed with a deafening
bang.
    The darkness slid around me, circled me, covered me.
    “Hey — let me out!” I screamed. “Let me out of here!”
    My scream ended in a choked sob. My breath escaped in noisy gasps.
    I pounded on the wooden barn door with both fists. Then I frantically swept my hands over the door, searching blindly for a latch, for something to pull — some way to open the door.
    When I couldn’t find anything, I pounded on the door until my fists hurt.
    Then I stopped and took a step back.
    Calm down, Jodie,
I told myself.
Calm down. You’ll get out of the barn. You’ll find a way out. It’s not like you’re trapped in here forever.
    I tried to force away my panic. I held my breath, waiting for my heart to stop racing. Then I let my breath out slowly. Slooooowly.
    I was just starting to feel a little better when I heard the scraping sound.
    A dry scraping. The sound of a shoe crunching over straw.
    “Oh!” I let out a sharp cry, then raised both hands to my face and listened.
    Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
    The sound of footsteps. Slow, steady footsteps, so light on the barn floor.
    Footsteps coming toward me in the darkness.

11
    “Who — who’s there?” I choked out, my voice a hushed whisper. No reply.
    Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
    The soft, scratchy footsteps came closer.
    “Who
is
it?” I cried shrilly.
    No reply.
    I stared into the darkness. I couldn’t see a thing.
    Scrape. Scrape.
    Whoever — or whatever — was moving steadily toward me.
    I took a step back. Then another.
    I tried to cry out, but my throat was choked with fear.
    I let out a terrified gasp as I backed into something. In my panic, it took me a few seconds to realize that it was only a wooden ladder. The ladder that led up to the hayloft.
    The footsteps crunched closer. Closer.
    “Please —” I uttered in a tiny, choked voice. “Please — don’t —”
    Closer. Closer. Scraping toward me through the heavy darkness.
    I gripped the sides of the ladder. “Please — leave me alone!”
    Before I realized what I was doing, I was pulling myself up the ladder. My arms trembled, and my legs felt as if they each weighed a thousand pounds.
    But I scrambled rung by rung toward the hayloft, away from the frightening, scraping footsteps down below.
    When I reached the top, I lay flat on the hayloft floor. I struggled to listen, to hear the footsteps over the loud pounding of my heart.
    Was I being followed? Was the thing chasing me up the ladder?
    I held my breath. I listened.
    Scrabbling sounds. Scraping footsteps.
    “Go away!” I screamed frantically. “Whoever you are — go away!”
    But the sounds continued, dry and scratchy. Like straw brushing against straw.
    Scrambling to my knees, I turned to the small square hayloft window. Sunlight filtered in through the window. The light made the hay strewn over the floor gleam like slender strands of gold.
    My heart still pounding, I crawled to the window.
    Yes! The heavy rope was still tied to the side. The rope that Mark and I always used to