Halloween Horror Story: Anyone Can be a Criminal


An example of an animate scarecrow, everything around him, dark and dreary.

Kya Alvarado, Contributor

You are walking out of your bus, and notice your friend’s aura is shade of green, meaning the he/she is an innocent person. Why exactly? Well, years ago, you have found that you could see the auras of people around you, and could tell what crimes they have committed and/or if they will in later time. It is both a gift and a curse. The origin is, of course, unknown. You sighed with relief, because everyday, you were happy to know you could trust your friend. As you stepped into single file line for roll call, you noticed, looking around, that some club mates were in shades yellows and oranges. This means that they will or have committed a crime by accident and/or the crime wasn’t all that bad. This was understandable, bc the club you were in was to prepare for law enforcement jobs after your current forms of education, which means they might bent the law a bit. Some were pretty close to green, which means they might have or might help out someone simply pick pocket or secretly take something from a store, or allow a small bribery, but nothing like help someone drive away from a bank or a casino robbery that dealt with guns. However, the closer they got to red, the closer they were to murder. The closer they were to black, the closer they were to a completely insane, psychotic, cereal killer. You prayed every night for the day that you spot someone like that to never, ever come around. You knew that you wouldn’t have near enough strength to muster against them, nor could you be able to help someone hanging around such a monster like that.

   After roll call, time came that you all went into your cabins and settle in, bc the next day, was for sure, a big one. The team of people in your club were going on they’re first hunt for crime, considering things like livestock were being stolen from this farm. Yes, the field trip was to a large farm. You and the team were super excited to get to investigating the corn fields and the pens full of animals.

   Days past as rarely a clue popped up, the team disappointed and in fear of also disappointing the very officer who helped the club legally investigate all of your first real case. As those days passed, so did the terrifying nights. In each morning, a sheep was gone, a cow stolen, a horse snatched, pigs and chickens slaughtered.

   One night, you woke to the sound of barking. You didn’t know the time of day, but you were aggravated and tired, no one else seemed to awaken; they were exhausted. You wondered outside to find pieces of hay, but paid no attention to them. There were also paw prints. You thought it might’ve been from a dog, but the farming family assured that their sheep dog ran away. Maybe it could’ve came back.. However, you jumped at hearing the loud noise again. Turning your head to look, you heard quick footsteps, then a pause, a whimper, and some crunching. You shivered at the disturbing sounds, finally deciding to go back to your cabin, however you had apparently run off into the cornfield trails, which was like a maze. The crows wouldn’t stay quiet, almost like they were mocking you.

   You tried not to panic, but realized your team had searched absolutely everywhere for clues, memorized every trail, every path, everyone but this one.  The crows got louder, almost like the sounds from a whole flock. In your panic, you started to run around in search for an exit, but to no avail. You weren’t going to make it out before morning. When exhausted, you took a seat on the ground, tired as a sloth and slouched. You looked up in the direction you now faced, and there stood a tall and intimidating and a very worn out scarecrow. The annoying birds finally silent. You dozed off, only to wake in the morning, scarecrow gone…

   Later, you finally made your way out, using dry corn pieces and grass blades to place where you had gone. Finally stepping out into freedom, you saw an old man with a hat, filling in a big pit and using a shovel. It likely wasn’t empty. His aura, the color around him, was only visible to see now that it was morning. It was a devastating, pitch black. The old man spotted you staring, and turned to face you, reaching in his pocket to seemingly grab something and grinning evilly. Your stomach fell to the floor when his hat not longer covered his face, because his face wasn’t made of flesh and bone and muscle, but straw and torn fabric.