Gasping for breath, Timothy felt the rage welling up within him again. His mother had become nothing more than a pathetic affection starved lush. His father.. well his father had to many hang-ups which, ever, ate at him ‘til he had to blow. Timothy, usually being the target.
All at once, he felt eyes on him. His gaze going passed the cornfield to the scarecrow. It was positioned so that its back was facing him but for some reason it seemed to be looking at him over its shoulder. He shook his head and looked again. Maybe, his father was right and his fear of the scarecrow was just foolish. For scarecrows cannot move. Or can they? There he went again. Needed to get over his childish fear, somehow. He went to get cleaned up for the get together.
He sat in the truck, the sweet smell of wheat filling the air, wind tousling his already unruly brown curls. Funny thing his father’s hair looked perfect. Shining like ebony and slicked back. He had those rugged good looks that many of the local gals tended to appreciate more than a little bit.
Timothy wondered what he would tell people when they asked him where his mom was. The excuses wore thin. And, the sympathetic looks made him feel small. Everyone knew what a lush his mom was. Yet time after time they asked out of respect, or maybe just to see him squirm.
The music filled the air, as they got close, as did the feeling of dread. The small dirt road to the Community hall ran right in front of the scarecrow; the closest he came to it. It was almost as if he could hear it breathing, if it could breath. And there it was... He needed to face his fear. He needed to, once and for all. So close...
Seemed pa was driving in slow motion. He put his face back in the window couldn't be that close. Saw it smile its evil smile. Hideous teeth, dripping with saliva. Cold trickles of sweat began running down his now pure white face.
Timothy turned and looked at his father who was looking straight at the road, oblivious to the terror. He looked around more, those they passed smiling. All seemed to be going in slow motion, even the trickles dripping down his face. He looked at it again. Had to be his imagination running away with him, as before. The same smile. The same hideously evil smile greeted him, seeming to call out to him. They passed it.
As his father parked he saw Mr. Richards approaching, his family close behind.
Timothy always thought Mr. Richards looked just like Saint Nicholas. Not the typical Santa clause image; Saint Nick, flowing white hair and beard, large stature, and that special little twinkle in his eyes. Like some awesome nature spirit of sorts.
Though he knew he couldn't be much older than his father who was 36. He guessed it was the fact that he had his mother living with him, his wife and three kids. Everyone said she wasn't right in the head. All the same, Timothy loved her like the grandma
he never had.
Mr. And Mrs. Richard's children where just his age, triplets. Their mom had thought it was humorous to name them similar names, Andy, Mandy, and Sandy, Timothy and Andy being best friends. While Sandy and Mandy were objects of disgust and teasing to him.
Mrs. Richards was like the mother he wished he had. Her house always smelling like baked goods. She had a laugh that could melt an ogre's heart.
Mr. Richards put out his hand to pa, as he got out of the truck. "Howdy Troy! Looking forward to hearin’ you and the boys tonight." "Heeeeeeeeeellow Eric!" Pa blared out in his usual way. "We got some new stuff tonight I think yer gonna like a lot."
Mr. Richards turned his attention to Timothy. "Howdy Tim. hows it goin son?"
Timothy smiled with glee. Mr. Richards was the only one who called him Tim. Made him feel all grown up. "Howdy Sir," He said with true admiration in his voice. "Things are just fine." "Good, good Tim, glad to hear it."
Timothy beamed. Knowing Mr. Richards really did care how he was doing and didn't just say it to be polite. Listening, unlike most of the other adults who asked. Making him wonder why they even asked at all.
He greeted Mrs. Richards, made faces at the girls; making them whine, then punched Andy in the arm. Making a side step to see his adopted grandma.