Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#068Reader Mode

#068

Seojun couldn’t believe it when Leah revealed the shocking truth about April’s identity. The whispered rumors of the “murderous scarecrow” that Tracey and her husband had shared didn’t quite fit the puzzle. It was all part of April’s twisted plan, a carefully crafted backstory for a terrifying new persona. But Tracy and Bailey’s memories told a different story—they remembered being killed by April himself, not some mythical scarecrow. The conflicting pieces of information swirled in Seojun’s head, blurring the lines between reality and fiction.

What was April’s endgame? Seojun couldn’t wrap his mind around it, beyond creating the urban legend of the Murderous Scarecrow. Maybe the growing notoriety of this nightmarish figure would allow April to spread fear beyond the cornfields, but it was all just guesswork. Suddenly, April’s harsh voice shattered his thoughts.

“Why do you even care? If you want to live, just do what I say. Or do you really think you can beat me?”

The playfulness in April’s tone had vanished, replaced by an icy flatness. Seojun’s gaze fell upon the scarecrow’s quivering lungs. If he hadn’t met Leah, he would’ve jumped at April’s offer without a second thought. He knew his deep-rooted instincts for self-preservation wouldn’t disappear overnight, no matter how badly he wanted to change.

He had already pushed acquaintances into the jaws of monsters and murderers to ensure his own survival—a fact he couldn’t erase. Without constant effort, he knew he’d fall back into making selfish choices and feeling no remorse.

But did it even matter in the grand scheme of things? Seojun thought of Christina’s hands, which must have fought even harder to do the right thing. Her delicate hands were already scarred from working with tools, but one mark refused to fade even after he left Wraithwood—a second-degree burn from killing Monster X. Despite treatment, Christina’s palm would always bear the light brown mark of her bravery.

Seojun could almost feel Christina’s resolute hand on his back, urging him forward. One step was all it took. Seojun straightened his shoulders, refusing to shrink under April’s arrogant glare.

“No, I can’t defeat you.”

A nervous silence fell and Leah shifted behind him. Inky droplets fell from the pitchfork’s tines, leaving ominous stains on the earth below. The stench of it all made Seojun’s stomach churn, but he locked his knees to keep from crumbling.

April let out an amused snort, his raised pitchfork glinting in the sunlight. Despite Seojun’s height, he had no way of pulling the pitchfork down this time. A malevolent smile appeared on April’s lips.

“If you were planning to beg for your life, you should have done it when you had the chance.”

“But do I have to? Do we really need to kill you?”

As the words left his lips, Seojun uncrossed his arms. With a swift motion reminiscent of a cowboy, he hurled the makeshift rope forward. The looped end, fashioned from intestines, soared through the air, scattering bits of flesh and blood. The loop tightened around April’s neck. There was a reason behind Seojun and Leah’s sudden appearance. With a determined frown, Seojun yanked April towards him.

“Aaaah!”

It was impossible to tell if the guttural sound ripping from Seojun’s throat was a cry of exertion or a bloodcurdling scream of terror as the hulking scarecrow collapsed towards him. The improvised intestine rope, hastily concealed in his jacket, had done its grisly job. Strangling an already mangled trachea seemed questionable, but it brought the towering April down.

“Ah!”

As the towering April fell, the tattered straw hat tumbled from his wild tangle of hair, twirling up into the sky. Stray straws danced across the blue sky, casting fleeting shadows as they passed before the sun. When the hat’s dark silhouette cleared April’s face, his long-hidden features were revealed as the settling dust unveiled them.

There was no time to revel in his victory, however. Ignoring the scene, Seojun charged ahead, lashing out with his long leg to kick the scarecrow’s pitchfork with a satisfying crack against the wood. The spinning pitchfork embedded itself deep into the tangled mass of Tracy and Bailey’s conjoined bodies with a sickening thud, eliciting a muffled groan from the entanglement.

Seojun crashed to his knees, the force of the impact sending a dizzying throb through his body. Ignoring the pain, he tore the glove from the hand that had previously held the pitchfork. Beneath the grime-caked fabric, he discovered a small, white, almost cunningly-concealed skeletal hand.

“Ah, my hand!”

Leah’s scream tore through the air, her young voice raw with emotions Seojun couldn’t even begin to untangle. He flinched, eyes hardening.

Images of the Laurens’ brutal slaughter flashed through his mind—gory details seared into his memory from touching their intestines earlier.

Even as Leah vanished into the corn stalks, Tracy and Bailey kept devouring the corn like they’d lost their minds. It was as if they’d been possessed by demons straight from hell’s depths.

That’s when the Murderous Scarecrow lurched out of the shadows, movements jerky and unnatural. With its massive pitchfork, it ripped through flesh and fabric, harvesting organs instead of crops.

Maybe it was when that rusty pitchfork stabbed between Bailey’s heart and lungs, catching her spine on the tines. The string tying the glove to the handle snapped and as it peeled away, there was nothing inside but air.

But Seojun had seen it clearly, even with just one eye—the Scarecrow’s skeletal hand pressing against the glove as April attacked him, imprinted in his vision for that split second.

“They say ‘to hide a tree, use a forest.’ Guess you took that seriously, huh April?”

April had cleverly disguised Leah’s stolen hand bone as his own—a twisted detail woven into the Scarecrow’s made-up history. Ignoring the hatred burning in April’s eyes, Seojun pressed on.

“I thought your story was a mix of truth and lies, but turns out there weren’t many lies after all.”

The clues had been there all along—the condemned prisoner’s last words for a replacement hand, the Scarecrow’s own empty right hand. April tried covering his tracks, but the truth clung stubbornly, leaving undeniable traces.

Seojun gritted his teeth and tucked the tiny hand bone into his jacket pocket. Mission accomplished – time to finally get the hell out of this nightmare.

“Uncle!”

“I got it, Leah. We’re leaving now!”

He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as she nestled into his jacket, safe. He’d never planned on killing April, not when he didn’t even know how to get rid of an evil spirit for good.

The goal had always been to escape the cornfield, and that wasn’t going to change, even if they did manage to knock down the scarecrow.

Leah’s small body felt unnaturally cold against Seojun’s chest, likely due to her ghostly nature. Yet somehow, her presence radiated a warmth and aliveness that rivaled any living child. As they turned to leave, a desperate, anguished wail rang out, attempting to anchor Seojun in place.

“Don’t go, Leah! Don’t abandon me and leave me alone!” April’s broken body thrashed helplessly on the ground, legs shattered from the fall, blood gurgling from his mangled throat. “We’re kindred spirits, you and I! No one else understands us like we understand each other!”

Leah, peeking over Seojun’s shoulder at April’s pitiful, blood-soaked form, spoke up unexpectedly. “You were already weak, April. Ever since mom and Mr. Bailey, you haven’t had any souls or bodies to feed on. I didn’t even have to run scared from you anymore…”

Leah’s words sparked a chilling epiphany in Seojun’s mind. He looked back at April with a fresh perspective. The scarecrow’s desperate attempts to frighten Seojun out of the cornfield – it wasn’t for the sadistic pleasure of one last supper, but a frantic effort to lure in new prey.

What a devious monster…

Cold sweat trickled down Seojun’s neck at the thought. A ghost with the foresight to scheme so meticulously? It defied belief. Seojun held Leah closer, his voice brimming with righteous fury.

“Hey, you bastard! How dare you compare yourself to Leah? There’s a limit to acting shamelessly even if you’re dead.” He fixed April with a searing glare. “Yes, Leah starved to death, but it was because of you! She died trying to escape this hellhole because you made it impossible for her to leave. She’s nothing like you – a selfish grown-up pinning the blame for your own failures on others.”

“What?” April’s intact face looked shocked, a jarring contrast to his broken body.

Seojun’s gaze locked onto April’s relatively unscathed face, the irony exposing the ghost’s true, twisted nature. The subtle creases at the corners of his eyes, the shadowed, heavy-lidded stare—unmistakable signs of adulthood.

April had the face of a grown man, far from the child he pretended to be.

“The child abandoned by their parents, the one Tracy and Bailey talked about… it was you, April. A child who never changed, year after year. Five years. Seven Years. That’s your story.”

The passing years weren’t cumulative; they had to be added together separately. April’s parents must have waited ages for their nine-year-old to grow up—sixteen long years.

But the twenty-five-year-old man hadn’t changed at all from his childhood self, still lashing out with immature cruelty. His youth could no longer shield him from judgment and punishment.

“Liar!” April’s face twisted in anguished misery, his disembodied voice thundering despite his ravaged throat. “I am…I’m just a poor, abandoned child! It’s all my parents’ fault, not mine! They made me into this… this murderous scarecrow! They were supposed to protect me. Forever!”

Even Seojun, with no special spiritual sensitivity, sensed this was April’s last stand. The scarecrow’s once-paralyzing aura of menace crumbled, revealed as nothing but empty threats.

Seojun’s response was quiet, almost solemn. “April, you’re not some ‘Murderous Scarecrow’ or evil spirit. I’d never even heard of such a thing before. You’re just… you. A lost man who died after being heartlessly abandoned, forgotten in this godforsaken field. Not a demon with supernatural powers, but someone who died because they couldn’t follow the rules of the living. In the end… you’re really nothing at all.”

His words carried no mystical weight, just his own viewpoint. But April knew better than anyone that this declaration cut his final, fraying lifeline. As much as he fought against it, his broken vessel and the emptiness clawing inside forced him to face that harsh reality.

“Leaving me like this won’t work! If even one person comes here… if they hear my voice, I’ll be resurrected!” April’s furious denial chased after them, his anguished howls echoing like a child begging not to be abandoned again. “Then I’ll hunt you down, slaughter you without mercy! Rip you apart until there’s nothing left!”

But Seojun didn’t look back. He held Leah close, shielding her ears, as they navigated out of the haunted cornfield.

As the faint outline of the road came into view, Seojun noticed the small body in his arms growing lighter with each step. Desperation to escape this place fueled his stride, his feet aching to run. Mustering his last shreds of enthusiasm, Seojun forced a cheerful tone.

“Leah, look! You were right, I found the way out and it didn’t take long at all. We’ll be free in no time.”

“…Uncle.” Leah’s voice was barely a whisper. Even with their closeness, Seojun had to strain to catch it.

“What’s wrong, Leah?”

“Uncle…”

The child struggled to voice her thoughts, as if an invisible lock sealed her lips. But Seojun waited patiently. They say generosity comes easily when one’s barn is full. So, with escape in sight, his tone softened further.

“It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“Uncle, the truth is…”

“Yes?”

“I’m… really scared.” Leah’s small voice trembled. “I don’t want to stay, but… I’m afraid to leave too.”

Seojun’s reassuring smile tightened slightly, understanding flickering in his eyes. He didn’t need to ask what Leah feared; he knew all too well. Fear had been his lifelong companion. Instead, Seojun hugged her quivering shoulders. Even if Leah was no longer among the living, the fear of the unknown after death was still terrifying.

“What if I leave and keep wandering as a ghost? What if no one listens, and I just repeat myself over and over, like a broken record? Mom always hated that. What if people finally see me but find me disgusting and I don’t even realize it?”

“Leah…”

Icy tears streamed down Leah’s cheeks. Unlike other children, Leah had never been allowed to cry freely, so she sobbed quietly, her pain barely audible.

“But… what if I leave and there’s nothing? Like I’m nothing, like I’m really dying…”

Seojun gently stroked Leah’s hair, her small body now lighter than a stuffed animal. It was a primal fear that even a weightless spirit couldn’t escape. A half-hearted attempt at comfort would have been worse than none at all. So, Seojun decided to share a secret.

“Leah, this is a really big secret, but your uncle died a long time ago.”

“What?”

Leah looked up at Seojun with wide, questioning eyes, sniffling as she tried to make sense of his words. The movie-loving smoker assured her with confidence.

“I was hit by a truck and died, but then I was reborn, see? I even had a different nationality. Have you ever been to South Korea?”

“No.”

“Alright. If you get reborn, try visiting there. Not North Korea, but South Korea. If you ever go to Gyeongju, contact me. I’ll be your personal tour guide.”

“Really, uncle? Is that true?”

Leah was still confused, but her tears had long since dried on her translucent cheeks. Seojun stroked her delicate head, his voice filled with unwavering certainty.

“It’s true, Leah. Sometimes people are reborn even after they die. So, don’t be afraid. It’s just like taking a nap. You’ve been running without rest for too long. You’ll just sleep deeply for a bit and then wake up again, ready to start a new adventure.”

“Uncle.”

“Yes.”

“I really hope so.”

“Me too, Leah.”

“Uncle.”

“Yes, Leah?”

Thank you. Goodbye.

As the farewell reached his ears, Seojun blinked, his heart and arms suddenly feeling empty.

He glanced around, expressionless. The sky stretched above, a bright blue, while the irritating scent of corn assaulted his nostrils. An old, red warning sign stood to his right. There were no streaks of light soaring skyward, no transparent figures in sight. Unwrapping his arms as if releasing an embrace, Seojun exhaled deeply. With weary legs, he effortlessly leaped over the boundary between the cornfield and the road.

Everything looked the same as when he had frantically stopped his truck earlier. A dirt-covered van was parked near the roadside, his dream truck neatly situated behind it. The road remained deserted, no cars whizzing by like the wind. His body felt as heavy as a waterlogged sponge as he dragged himself into the driver’s seat, barely able to move.

Suddenly, his phone chimed from his pocket. With trembling fingers, he pulled it out, only to see that the call drop notification had disappeared, replaced by a message sending failure. Frustration and disbelief surged through him. He hurled the phone onto the passenger seat, his chest heaving with anger and exhaustion.

The realization that he had only spent twelve minutes in that nightmarish cornfield annoyed Seojun more than the actual ordeal itself. Overcome with fatigue, Seojun slumped forward, resting his cheek on the steering wheel as he gazed out the window in a daze. But at least now, everything was clear.

Moments later, the blue truck’s engine roared to life. Seojun pulled away, narrowly avoiding the parked van as he sped down the empty road, desperate to leave the sinister cornfield far behind.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Elsewhere, a scarecrow lay abandoned on the ground, its wooden shaft entangled with the remains of human bodies. Beside it, a discarded walkie-talkie crackled with static. A twisted smile stretched across his face.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Some time later, a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle zoomed along the endless road, its driver belting out a cheerful tune.

“One little, two little, three little Indians.”

The deep, booming voice paid little attention to pitch or rhythm as he sang along, counting little Indians. Suddenly, a desperate voice crackled through the radio, interrupting the song. Bright blue eyes darted towards the source, curiosity piqued.

…Help me! The Murderous Scarecrow is trying to kill me! Please, please come into the cornfield! Help me!

The boy’s terrified pleas filled the car, followed by the bone-chilling howls of a beast and the sickening sound of blades ripping through flesh.

But Johan merely reached over and turned the volume down to its lowest setting with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. The cries for help now silenced, he happily resumed his off-key singing. The little yellow Beetle sped past the cornfield without hesitation, leaving the desperate pleas unanswered in its wake as the number of little Indians climbed ever higher.