The Following content is rated M for graphic detail.
Ruth is a "real" character from Children of the Corn.
The cold air bit at Ruth's naked heels as she clung to her newborn. The child- fondly named Malachi after its deceased father- stayed surprisingly silent amongst the rags that its mother had wrapped it in, this type of silence was surely deafening. Ruth paused at her stride, feeling for the torches hidden under her skirts. Good. They were still there. With slapping heels against a wet black top, she met the sea of endless corn. The corn, it was what had started everything, but soon it would end everything. With the softest of sighs, Ruth shifted the silent newborn to her right side, her freehand reaching for the two identical torches. With a glare she looked to the wall of corn, knowing well that He was watching- the one who walked behind the rows.
Lighting up her torches she took a wishful step to the corn, still clinging to her newborn son. She had dreamed of this day from the very beginning, from the very start of bloodshed. "This is for my love, Malachi, and for my parents." She whispered as she lit the first layer of corn, it burst with menacing orange at just the slightest touch of flame. As one lit, they all lit. Already the heat was intense, the heat making Ruth sweat to the point that her nightgown was now plastered to her body. With one last look at her child she ran into the blazing corn with torches and child in hand.
She ran, racing the fire as far as she could until it trapped her. A perfect ring of fire surrounded her- it was as if the corn was saying, "If I must meet my demise, so shall you." With that thought in mind she shivered, her heels digging into the soft dirt. Only as she skidded did the fire launch itself at her. Instantly she released the torches to the ground beneath her and held her newborn closer to her chest. Only as the fire began to feast on her flesh did she hear her child scream. She joined its song of agony, finally falling to her knees. Already she could feel her flesh boiling, melting. Already the smell of burnt road kill that had been left to rot and burnt popcorn became overwhelming. Oh how the smell was horrid. So horrid that it was choking her. She coughed, her screams strangling her dying breath. She finally fell completely to the ground. With her last dying breath, she felt her child's flesh against her bare arms melt. Already she could feel its skeleton poking out at her amongst the rags.
The corn shifted, the fire spreading like a plague. It moved like it was alive, ripping through the rows and rows of corn. It reached the accursed clearing only to stop in its rampage. As it grazed the edges of the clearing did it die out, not a flame in sight. All in just a mere second's life did the fire cease to breathe. The corn was safe. He was safe.
Ruth's attempt had failed. She had died for nothing. She had died in vain.