AN: Nothing to do with the Goosebumps book of the same name. Everything to do with screams and murder. I've stuck him in his Arkham Asylum costume for this, because I really, really don't want that coming after me at night. Or at all.
Christineoftheopera-You brave, brave soul. We went to Comic-con once, by accident. It...didn't go well. I told you before and I'll tell you again, a 'sexy Scarecrow' costume is a one-way ticket to a painful demise. We. Were. HIDING. We escaped. Barely. I haven't seen any more burlap bimbos out, have you? One. A rare male example with pretty eyes. Very funny. I was serious. Remind me why I haven't decapitated you. You'd feel guilty. And the first cold you got afterwards would be your last, because you refuse to take care of yourself. That would be why, yes.
Gotham's annual haunted corn maze has never been particularly impressive. A couple of people usually dress up like vampires and spring at the walkers, but the only real terror is getting lost.
Like now.
Kathy Watson has gotten separated from her friends, the maze is officially closed, and she can't find her way out. Her allergies are acting up and there's no phone service out here.
This is just great. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Okay. She'll just go straight. Right? She's gotta get out of here soon. If she just goes straight, she'll be out of the field and then she can walk around the maze to her car.
So. Onwards, fair maiden!
Her footsteps are the only sounds and she eventually starts whistling. That's even creepier and she stops soon enough.
Why do her footsteps have to echo like that? It's bad enough that she's alone in here!
She rounds a corner and swallows a yelp upon seeing the creepy scarecrow in front of her. Just a prop…just a prop. Whoo.
"Hello?"
This time she does scream.
"Who's there!"
"Sorry! I got lost." The woman grimaces. "My boyfriend thought he'd be clever and ditch me in here, and my hay fever's been-ah-choo!-really bad." She sniffles and rummages in her pocket for a tissue. "Do you work here?"
"I'm lost, too."
"Oh." She slumps a little before perking up. "Come on, let's get going. I can't be in here by myself for another minute. Twice I thought that thing was going to jump me." She jerks her thumb towards the scarecrow.
Kathy breathes a small, snuffly sigh of relief. She is no longer alone in the maze. Thank God. Next year, she decides, she'll work overtime. Stay home and hand out candy. Anything but be dragged into this stupid maze. But her friends made her. 'It's your first year in Gotham!' they said. 'It's tradition to go at least once!' they said. Yeah, well, is it tradition to get lost this badly?
"What's your name?"
"Kitty. Yours?"
"That's weird…Kathy."
"That is weird. Pleasure."
They walk in silence, fumbling through the darkened rows. And then-she doesn't know how it happens, honest she doesn't-her companion disappears.
Just vanishes.
And not two minutes later, there's a blood-curdling scream from behind her.
Kathy breaks into a run, the uneven ground threatening to trip her. And trip her it does-straight into the ground at the base of the creepy scarecrow prop.
She struggles to her feet, feeling her lip bleeding. There's dirt in the wound-nasty and gritty and slightly salty. Ugh…
She lifts her head and blinks a few times.
The scarecrow isn't there. This is the place-the cross is there-but it…isn't.
What in…
"Hullo again."
She feels a wave of relief that the other woman is unharmed, followed by a wave of anger that she scared her like that.
"What happened? Why'd you scream?"
"It's alive." She's grinning. "See? It's gone." She points at the empty cross. "It's walking around the maze, looking for victims."
And she's cracked. Whatever happened to her broke her, apparently.
"Boo."
She screams again and whirls around, hands upraised to shield her face. They're gripped by warm hands belonging to…
Dear God.
The scarecrow. It's alive. It's alive and it's grabbed her and oh sweet Jesus…
She rips free, leaving a piece of her shirt in its grasp. It swipes for her again, and misses. She takes off running, pulling shallow breaths through her mouth. Her nose is dripping and her eyes are so watery that she can barely see, but she can hear it coming after her.
"Run, run, little Kathy!" it calls. "Run like the wind!"
She trips over a rock and gets a mouthful of dirt. Spitting and scraping at her lips, she rolls over and sees…nothing.
She's lost it.
Okay…deep breaths…deep breaths…she'll just find her way out and tell the police there's an escaped lunatic in the corn maze dressed like…
Oh.
Oh, dear god.
The first thing her friends told her about Gotham was that it was teeming with costumed lunatics. There was a clown, a man dressed in a green that liked riddles and death traps, and a scarecrow.
No way. Surely he'd be causing mass mayhem, not chasing after her. This was just a nut suffering a bad case of hero-worship or something.
SLICE!
A chunk of corn topples to the ground and she catches sight of a scythe.
"I found you!"
She scrambles to her feet and steps backwards, trying not to trip again.
"Please…"
"Hush, hush, child."
"Please, God…"
He lifts the scythe again and she turns to flee.
There! The exit, the exit at last!
There's a searing pain in her ankle and she faceplants in the dirt. When she manages to roll over and lift her head, she sees a foot lying a little ways away.
Not just a foot. It's got a pink Converse sneaker on it. Her pink Converse sneaker.
She passes out at the sight.
THE END