Page 14 of Snatched By the Scarecrow

Ava does a little dance in her chair and another woman named Mary brings me over a can, and the aluminum is tepid against my palm. I pop open the top and find that everyone is staring at me like me drinking this is going to be the highlight of their year.

“Are you all this excited to see if I like it?”

Ava snorts. “Sorry, we’re being weird, aren’t we?”

“A little.”

“Everyone, stop being weird to our new neighbor. We want her to stay a long time.”

Mike says something under his breath, but it gets cut off by Olive swatting him. I don’t take a sip yet, deciding they can wait.

“How long have you been making cider?” I ask Ava.

“A few years now. This is a new seasonal one that has pumpkin spice flavors.”

“Ah,” I hum. “Good fall flavor. I bet it’s popular.”

“It is!”

“We all like it,” Jeremy says. “I’ve already had two cans.”

“He’s my biggest fan,” Ava blushes.

I observe the two of them, and note they’re giving each other eyes. They must be together, or if they’re not, they want to be.

“So did you all grow up here?” I ask.

“Yep,” Mary says. “Born and raised.”

“Wow,” I say.

“We’re all different ages but we’re by far the youngest in town,” Ava adds. “So, are you going to try it or do you not drink?”

Annoyance creeps up my throat. I don’t like feeling pressured to drink it, but at the same time it’s obviously important to her that I try this damn cider. I bring it to my lips and take a sip. The flavor of apple, nutmeg, and cinnamon hit my tongue. I take another drink, getting a hint of something else that I can’t place along with the taste of fermentation.

“Good?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m usually more of a gin and tonic type of woman, but it’s nice for the season.”

“Glad to hear it. Now drink up, we’re going to tell some scary stories, and the alcohol makes them more fun!” She lifts her own can, and I lightly hit mine against hers. Everyone else cheers and drinks.

I relax back into my chair and study the orange and yellow flames of the fire. I take another sip of the drink, the alcohol heating my insides.

“Ava, you go first,” Jeremy says. “We all like your scarecrow story.”

At the mention of a scarecrow, I turn to Ava. Her eyes are on me, the flames flickering in her eyes.

“Okay,” she says. “Would you like to hear more about Silas, Harper?”

I dip my chin and she begins her story, feeling very sleepy suddenly. My eyes try to droop, but I force them to stay open.

“There’s something you should know about Silas, Harper.”

“What’s that?” I ask, my limbs heavy.

“He’s not just a scarecrow.”

My hands go numb, and the people around me get up from their chairs. I tell myself to get up and run but I can’t. The can of cider in my hand drops to the ground, and my vision swims.