Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#062Reader Mode

#062

The ravenous memories of the Laurens gnawed at Seojun’s mind like starving phantoms, filling him with revulsion that tightened his throat. His hand lashed out instinctively, sending the corn husks scattering across the dirt floor in a frantic flurry.

“Ah…” A regretful sigh mingled with the sound of rolling kernels and Seojun’s own labored breathing. His pale cheeks twitched erratically as he stared down at the scattered corn, an unnatural disgust clouding his eyes.

“Oh…” April’s small voice carried a weight beyond his years, tinged with melancholy. But Seojun regarded the corn with dark contempt, as if it were something sinister rather than mere vegetation.

To him, the endless fields shimmering in the heat twisted into vast, gaping maws – disemboweled stomachs gorged with putrid, blackened blood. The cruel imagery branded itself behind his eye, as violently unsettling as it was inescapable.

As the gnawing hunger finally subsided, Seojun forced tense words past his lips. “No, no. I’m okay. Not hungry.”

“Are you sure? It’s really good.”

Crunch!

April’s small white teeth sank into the plump kernels.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

With April’s appetite satisfied for the moment, the unlikely duo set their risky plan into motion. Seojun followed the small boy’s steps, gingerly massaging his aching side with each shuffle forward. He couldn’t tell if the soreness stemmed from hunger or if his body was simply drained from adapting to this challenging environment.

Probably both.

His brooding expression darkened further. In stark contrast, April was lively and bursting with youthful energy, making it hard to believe he was just a boy trapped in these haunted fields.

“If you keep staggering around like that, how do you expect to run when the time comes?” April prodded. “Why don’t you just eat some corn?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Seojun replied stoically. “I may lack grit and strength, but I’ll manage.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious alright.” April clicked his tongue.

The plan they had devised was simple. April would lead them along the safest paths, using his insider knowledge to steer clear of the murderous scarecrow’s lurking minions. Meanwhile, Seojun’s role was simply to keep pushing forward as best he could, buying them time if confronted until April found an escape route. A child guide leading a pathetic adult – it seemed crazy, but they had little choice.

Is this really going to work?

Cold sweat beaded on Seojun’s brow even as April insisted it made sense to let the local take charge of navigation. If Seojun got them lost, they’d be utterly doomed. Reading his anxious silence, April reasoned, “If it comes down to it, just try to distract the murder scarecrow’s minions so I can find the right way out. We each have our part to play.”

“Got it,” Seojun nodded weakly, heart hammering against his ribs despite April’s confident words.

He knew the kid was more familiar with this hellish maze of cornstalks, but dread still crept up Seojun’s spine. With a trembling hand, he brushed aside the sweaty strands plastered to his forehead and took a hesitant step forward into the unknown.

Not ten minutes later, he was running like an old dog, the shrill screams of the murderous Tracy and Bailey ringing in his ears. Sweat poured down his flushed face, his thin hair whipping wildly. There was no time for gently parting the corn stalks battering his body – no chance to catch the scorching breaths that seared his throat.

Seojun charged ahead, arms flailing, with no damn clue where he was going or what path to take. He silently prayed his battered sneakers wouldn’t betray him over a rock or gnarled root. The tears he fought to hold back weren’t due to some noble idea of conserving moisture. No, it was much simpler than that – if his one working eye became blurred or blinded, he was screwed.

Squinting fiercely, he strained to glimpse some path through the disorienting sameness. No matter how wide he forced his eye open or how much he blinked, there was no sign of April’s small body up ahead as planned.

“Ugh!” The grunt was wrenched from deep in his core as he barely righted himself mid-stumble, sniffling away the childish urge to collapse right there. He hadn’t pushed himself this hard since last year’s Independence Day incident, and now his bitter luck had thrown him into another painful, draining ordeal – not even a year later! Just how cosmically unlucky did he have to be to face this kind of hardship over and over again?

With a ferocious snarl, Seojun’s fist lashed out, battering aside the corn fronds whipping his face. One stalk snapped back viciously, lashing a hot slap across his cheek and igniting his fear into furious determination.

“Damn it all! A life like Bobby’s! A cornfield like Golden!” he gasped, the words barely audible through ragged breaths.

Air finally filled his burning lungs as he pushed onward, fueled by the chilling thought of what terrible torment awaited if Tracy and Bailey caught him faltering.

It had started out smoothly enough at first.

After leaving their brief respite, April darted ahead, his small body slipping through the cornstalks like a ghost as he picked their path. But whether the murderous Lauren couple heard their movements or not, their sinister reach quickly closed in, that chilling laughter horribly close. The only thing saving them was April’s preternatural ability to stay one step ahead and steer them onto new trails just beyond the real specters’ grasping claws.

But the kid’s evasive movements made it nearly impossible for Seojun to keep up. April’s straw hat blended seamlessly into the cornfield maze, vanishing from view at the slightest lapse in focus. Gritting his teeth, Seojun traced the faint trail – right, darting left, barreling straight ahead, right again – in a frantic pace fueled by the looming dread of Bailey’s rough hands tangling in his hair. He couldn’t risk slowing to look for telltale signs of trampled stalks.

Panic boiled over with each turn nearly delivering him into the couple’s clutches. Yet he followed April’s footsteps religiously, his own soles threatening to shred from the relentless pursuit. Rational thought had abandoned Seojun completely, leaving only raw animal instinct guiding his unsightly flailing. As April turned between two stalks just ahead, Seojun followed that telltale brim. But when he rounded the corner, the boy had vanished, as if swallowed by the earth itself.

Confusion and dread gripped him tightly. Where the hell could April have gone? Every second mattered, but Seojun had no choice but to look around wildly. “April? April!” he risked calling out, voice swallowed by eerie silence. A hot breeze rustled the cornstalks, punctuated by that spine-chilling laughter raising the hairs on his neck. Standing paralyzed meant death, but running blindly felt equally futile. Swallowing the growing fear that he was simply going in circles, Seojun forced his lead-heavy legs onward again, each step feeling like dragging anchors.

Then, between the stalks, Bailey’s twisted, bloody mouth flashed – a rabid grin with missing teeth. Seojun stumbled, his reed-like body nearly crumpling as Tracy’s icy nails grazed his ears. He couldn’t stop, his swollen lip gripped between clenched teeth, the copper taste of blood mingling with the salt of his sweat.

How much longer could this brutal game of cat-and-mouse drag on? How much more could Seojun’s body take before giving out completely? It seemed the murderous couple were determined to chase him until his dying breath. Did they get some sick thrill from watching him paralyzed by sheer terror, helpless as a child toying with a dung beetle?

In the scorching heat, Seojun’s vision blurred as he pushed his limits. He’d never undertaken a challenge so grueling – this nightmarish marathon of tag was like nothing he could have imagined. His lungs burned for air while trembling hands and feet begged for mercy. It reminded him of that first chase from the deranged couple, but this time there was no April to help him catch his breath. He was utterly alone.

In his desperation, Seojun would have given every last penny if only someone would reach out a hand to help. To hold his. He’d already drained his fortune on preparations for this dream vacation gone wrong, and now his delirious mind dreamed not of adventure but of salvation at any cost. Was it his own selfish desires that led him to this moment?

As his vision darkened, a figure finally appeared before him. Clad in a straw hat and tattered overalls, its face was obscured by the sun’s glare, but Seojun could easily picture the crudely drawn smile plastered across its rough burlap features. His heart pounded harder as he struggled to swallow the desert dryness scratching his throat.

Stained work gloves encased the figure’s outstretched hands, one of which clutched a pitchfork firmly. From the tines of the pitchfork, long, entangled intestines stretched outward in a sickening imitation of a fan’s spokes. The rusty blades glinted dully in the punishing sun as the smiling scarecrow creaked, its hollow gaze fixed on Seojun… Creak… and then it began to move.

“Ah….”

Seojun blinked slowly, his gaze staring at the scarecrow’s lower half. He’d always pictured scarecrows as rooted things, stuck unmoving in the fields. But this unholy creation had devised a far more twisted means of movement. As it staggered closer, black blood dripped from its patchwork frame, soaking into the dark red soil beneath. The stench of rot grew stronger with each step.

For the scarecrow stood, not on a simple stake, but atop a twisted amalgamation of human limbs, stitched together in a disgusting imitation of life. Calves, ankles, and feet intertwined in an unholy knot, defying all logic and reason. Seojun wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it, but the horror robbed him of his dark chuckle. Legs made of legs – only Bobby might have found such twisted wordplay amusing. How many lives had been brutally melded into this monstrosity? He shuddered, thinking at least four.

With each dragging, unnatural step, the grinning scarecrow lurched closer. It moved as if its very existence defied the laws of nature, akin to the notion of rotten skeletons walking – something within was forcing it to move unceasingly. In the cornfield where the sun seemed to shine eternally, the murderous scarecrow, wielding a pitchfork wrapped in intestines, began its dreadful advance.