The Purgatory Collective (Story 1)- What Goes On At Night

Hi! This is my first post. I was depressed and wrote this story as a means of understanding what it is I am feeling and decided to include it in a series of short works I've written/am writing. Constructive criticism is advised!

Odom County has a reputation to be sure; over twenty counts of suicide within the last three years certainly gives Halloween it’s own bleak festive cheer. Tourists love coming to Odom County in the hopes of encountering ghouls or monsters or demons. They have the privilege of not understanding the pain our town suffered and the people haunted by the actions of those whose lives were taken. Rumors of a creature of the dark that roams every fall, causing mayhem and mischief and said to be responsible for murdering the victims and painting it as a suicide. Pure conjecture for those who don’t understand what goes on at night.

Scarecrows have always frightened me as a kid - which should be of no surprise to most people but to the people of Odom County, scarecrows are a renowned symbol. We are a farm town at heart and every fall we build scarecrows out of the resources we have in our homes. Most people decorate their own personal scarecrow and place them out on Halloween night. This has been a tradition since the early 1800’s when Odom was founded. I remember trick or treating and seeing the scarecrows perched up on a stake, some grimacing down with unnatural welcome and some with no face at all. It was very difficult to get the face right, a tried and true practice of craftsmanship in Odom. The Biggins Family,who always won the Odom Scarecrow Building Competition during the fall festival that always fell during the week of Halloween, were the only ones who made scarecrows that seemed less horrifying and more relatable. They stopped after their son Gregory had died tragically three years ago. My parents always tried being nice to them, usually bringing them sweets every holiday season and making somewhat of an effort to see how the family was doing but ultimately it amounted to nothing.

That year, I was forced to go over to the Biggins family household, bearing homemade pumpkin bread made by my mother. I felt very strange; I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to help the Biggins family deal with problems deeper than I could understand at the time but I suppose it was the thought that counted. The sun was just about to set and as I made my way past the picket brown fence with shoddy festive lights and paper cut pumpkins crudely slapped on, I could not help but feel a sense of being watched. As I was halfway to the front door, I saw a scarecrow perched on the front of the house just under the upstairs window.. I was a bit surprised as it had been a while since the Biggins family made a scarecrow. It had pale orange overalls on, an old pilgrims hat and a sickle holstered on its side. It’s face was peculiar; it has sunken black eyes and a stitched up mouth making an expression that I could only guess was an attempt at being welcoming.

I rang the doorbell and remember seeing Mrs. Biggins. Her eyes were covered in makeup to hide the puffy black bags under her eyes and sported candy corn earrings. She looked down at the pumpkin bread, almost half expecting it but out of politeness, she thanked me. “Thank your family for their kindness.” she said to me. I smiled, unsure of how to respond. “My mom makes some great pumpkin bread.” I said mustering a laugh. Mrs. Biggins smiled in response and let out a sigh, her smile quickly vanishing. “The neighbors love bringing us food around this time of year.” I gauged her response and tried changing the conversation. “Well, maybe we’ll see you in a couple days at the fall festival! Your scarecrow looks mighty good!”

Mrs. Biggins looked at me in confusion, almost as if I was trying to play some practical joke on her.

“What scarecrow?” she asked, slightly suspicious of me.

“The one on your house.” I said, unsure of her apprehension. We walked outside so I can show her what I meant. Her husband probably put it up without telling her. We stood at the lawn and I pointed.

Gone.

I apologized profusely, but Mrs. Biggins shrugged it off. She didn’t seem bothered by it afterwards but I still felt guilty. Building scarecrows was a very big tradition in the Biggins family, I felt like I was being sacrilegious to their old traditions - yet, something was not quite right.

The following day there were reports of broken mailboxes, animals released from their stables and let loose onto the roads, and accounts of a strange man dancing gleefully across the night. What bothered me most was Ellen Daprie’s account. Sixteen with a rebellious streak, she had snuck out that night to drink with friends, only to rush home due to being pursued by an unknown assailant. The town sheriff got involved, which is rare as Odom is relatively tame when it comes to crime. Word got around that she claimed to have been pursued by the devil. Quite coincidental as it was Halloween and made for a scary story, but nobody - not even Ellen, knew the truth.

Whispers of the unknown assailant caught wind of out-of-towners who wanted to investigate and see if the rumors of supernatural machinations held true to the old town legends. Witches were burnt in Odom, some believing they cursed the soil. Of course, Odom has been prosperous each harvest season so that urban legend died down relatively quick. A demon was said to roam the town one fall, screeching in the night, only to be discovered to be an escaped stallion that had gotten loose and ran in terror and confusion. Then it was ghosts. Odom certainly has a tendency to spark up stirs of curious frenzy. My dad believes its the mayor using Odom’s sad and bleak history as a means of drawing tourists so they can spend more money here. Hundreds come for the fall festival, probably the biggest source of income for the town outside our export of crops. Odom is relatively rural and stuck in it’s old ways, but on October 22nd 2004, things took a turn.

Mckenzie Banner, age 17, committed suicide by hanging herself in the church belltower. Her body had face painting with a half hearted smile and a tear drop smeared on. The autopsy revealed that there were no wounds internal or external and she wasn’t drugged. Yet, there was evidence of her body being tampered with. Her hair was covered in straw, a few hours after her body had begun decomposing and the face paint was added on after she died. Police treated it as a homicide and the State got involved. There was a murderer in Odom and the town was shaken. Out-of-towners and tourists alike stayed away from the town. Only those with morbid curiosity and a keen sense of discovery wanted to uncover the case. But this wasn’t a Halloween movie or some urban legend. This was real-life.

With that said, I was one of those people. I wanted to find out who was responsible and at the age of 22 I joined a community night patrol to watch over the town. The State officials strongly advised us to stay indoors, but Odom was too family-minded - perhaps more than their own good - to listen. People armed themselves with shotguns, pitchforks, machetes, you name it. I made sure to keep a .45 caliber pistol on me as well as a pocket knife. The more people that were outside at night and not isolated, the less likely another incident would occur. At least, that was what made the most sense to us.

October 25th, 11 pm. I was walking home with Abigail Williams... I won’t lie, I was trying to get her to come over so we could f**k and she flirted with the idea. The wind blew strongly and we both heard someone singing. I pulled my .45 and turned around and saw the trail masked in blackness. I couldn’t see very far down but someone was definitely down the road.

Then I heard someone speak.

“You are the hollow men… stuffed men...headpiece filled with staw…” sang the voice. It sounded rather tame but any normal person wouldn’t play a prank at a time like this.

It was a poem I learned in high school. I wasn’t sure if those were even the correct lyrics at the time. I can say that they weren’t. This person was saying “you”... the lyrics go “we are the hollow men”. I was too focused on getting Abigail and I back home safely. Lights were sparce but we were by homes so if I unloaded surely others would come.

Abigail shown a light down the trail and screamed. I saw the same thing. A strange looking man with was standing not too far down. His voice sounded much more pubescent than a man’s should. All of a sudden, he started sprinting towards us and Abigail shrieked, moving the flashlight down slightly. I unloaded on the assailant, but when Abigail pointed the flashlight up again the pursuer was nowhere to be found. We ran down the trail and managed to make it to her place, only to hear jovial giggling in the blackness of the woods. She ran inside and told her family. I was asked to stay and that they would call the sheriff, which I obliged. I had no reason to refuse the offer. I stayed the night and was asked by the sherriff what had happened the following day.

On my way home, I saw that the scarecrows were plastered throughout the town. I couldn’t help but feel uneasey. The faces made me feel disgusted. Nothing but straw and stitching, but on the surface were deplorable depictions of happiness and imitations of having fun. I rushed home, only to see a familiar face.

On my lawn was the same scarecrow I saw at Mrs. Biggins house. I thought someone was trying to mess with me but as I got closer and examined its features, I saw that it wasn’t scary looking. In fact, it looked rather comical. I unplucked it from the yard and took it out back to dispose of it.

I threw the scarecrow on the floor of my barn. I felt the insides of it were rather soft. It wasn’t just hay inside this thing. So, I took a pocket knife and went to cut it open to see what was inside.

My entire world changed forever after that.

I felt the scarecrow jump back, as if being pulled by an unknown entity with great force, followed by a shrieking “NO!!” I ran to the entrance of the barn, pulled my gun out and went into complete fight-or-flight. My heart racing so fast, watching this scarecrow now standing on its straw legs, its arms covering its stitched face.

“Don’t hurt me!!” it cried.

“Get on the ground!!!” I shouted.

The scarecrow got on its knees and put its head down and pleaded.

“It was just a joke…” it cried. I could hear genuine emotion coming from it. I reacted out of pure instinct and spoke as direct as I could while my brain was processing this turn of events.

“Explain yourself. Now!!” I made kept my gun pointed at the scarecrow.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that…” whined the scarecrow. It was almost pathetic how it sounded.

“What makes you think you could go around scaring people? People are dying - getting murdered!!” I screamed. You see, in that moment I thought somehow there was just a person underneath those stitchings.

“You mean McKenzie..” whimpered the scarecrow.

“Who are you!!?” I barked condemningly. “What do you know about McKenzie?!” I was so sure this person was bad, that they were responsible for what was going on.

The scarecrow started trembling and cried out his name.

“Gregory!! Gregory Biggins!!”

I froze. I felt the insurmountable uncertainty of this situation overtake my body as I heard those words leave his mouth. Gregory was only thirteen when he had killed himself and was always bullied at school. I remember him getting nasty beatings, only to learn after his death that they were not from the bullies but from his alcoholic father.

“Stop f*****g around. You still think this is a joke?!” I yelled at the scared scarecrow.

Gregory lifted his face up, his sunken eyes squinting in fear.

“I didn’t hurt her… I saw her do it… I just wanted to make light of it!” he exclaimed.

I realize he was referring to her death, but in that moment I was not thinking, just reacting. I moved closer to the scarecrow and aimed my gun at his head.

“You m**********r, tell me what’s going on!” There was a long pause, and finally Gregory spoke in a calmer tone.

“Nobody was murdered…” he spoke through his stitched mouth. “I was pranking people.. I chased Ellen.. I chased you… and I saw McKenzie alone and followed her to the belltower where she hung herself! I just wanted…” he begun to whimper.

“Wanted to what.” I said firmly but calm.

Gregory started crying, yet no tears left the two sunken voids he had for eyes “...I just wanted to be noticed… I miss my mom… I couldn’t take living anymore… I took my life and couldn’t leave...in my final moments I was so scared for how my mom would feel that I reached out… to the scarecrow we made together… and I’ve been in here ever since.”

I remember feeling remorse in that moment but still wasn’t sure. I was by no means ready to let my guard down. For all I know it was some elaborate lie.

“Bullshit.” I exclaimed. “You dead.. Your mom knows your dead, everyone in town knows your dead!”

The scarecrow begun sobbing as it tried speaking.

“I just...want to be alive again…” he cried sincerely. “I just want people to know I exist… to tell my mom I love her…”

“Then tell her.” I said with reluctance. If he was acting he deserved an Oscar.

“What would she say… what would anyone say? Look at you… you don’t even believe me…”

And I didn’t. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t reconsidering it.

“Can you blame me? You really expect me to believe that you’re an actual scarecrow?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand...nobody would. That’s why I come out every Halloween… I play pranks and scare people so I can be remembered..”

I pointed the gun down but Gregory didn’t budge. I placed my hand on his shoulder.

“You should see your mom, Gregory.” I said. “You can’t live like this anymore.”

“I can’t relate to anybody…” said Gregory, covering his face. “Not even in life. I was always like this… a hollow scarecrow.”

As you read this, you must be wondering how I was able to accept the reality of what was happening. But until you actually live it, you really don’t know what you are willing to accept until you experience it first hand.

I took Gregory by the hand and helped him up. He had a few inches on me and his presence was rather unsettling, but as he spoke I heard the innocence in his voice.

“You need to speak to your mom, Gregory.” I said. Looking back on it now, I don’t think I should have said that because no mother should accept a fate like this for their son.

“I’ve thought about it so many times… but I get so scared of what she might say.” he sighed.

“You can’t be alone like this.” I said. “You need to human connection.”

“I didn’t get much of that when I was alive.” said Gregory in a tone of acceptance. “Not much has changed for me.”

“Oh cut the bullshit. This is far worse than anything you could ever experience when you were alive!” I said trying to slap some reason into the boy.

“Do you know what happens when you die?” he asked me. I was so thrown off by the question. I didn’t respond. I just looked at him, perplexed by the sudden shift in conversation.

“You get taken down a funnel of darkness and you can see beings and creatures all watching you. I regretted what I had done and pleaded with them, only wake up inside this scarecrow. You will see what I mean one day.”

Those words to this day never left me.

That night I told my parents I was going to a party but I was actually going to a secluded area to talk with Gregory. At night, things are much scarier than they actually are because we can’t see what's around us. Gregory, on the other hand, was not at all perturbed by the blackness of uncertainty. He had a spring in his step. He didn’t have to fear other people seeing him. Night time was as close as he could get at being himself.

“What do you do when it’s not Halloween time?” I asked the boy.

“I travel.” he said. “I walk really far at night when nobody can see me and since I can’t get tired I can go really really far.”

I was surprised to hear him say this.

“It’s lonely, though..” he sighed. “I can’t talk to anyone.”

“Well if it helps.” I said with optimism “I’m already used to your…. situation.”

We both laughed. Looking back I still couldn’t believe it but in that moment it felt normal.

“Halloween.” Gregory said. “I’m going to talk to my mom.”

“You’re going to pretend to be trick or treating?” I said.

“It’s the only day of the year that I have the best shot of her accepting what I look like.” he said confidently. I didn’t disagree with him.

“What do you think is going to happen after you talk to her?” There was a short pause.

“I don’t know.” he said sadly. He was guilty and wanted to apologize to his mom, but I knew things wouldn’t be so simple.

“You can’t expect things to go back to normal, or even change for the better, Gregory.” I was trying to be as honest as I possibly could. “Nobody is going to believe it. It took a few hours for me just to get used to you but do you expect your mom - your family, to accept you?”

“I don’t care if they accept me.” Gregory said with affirmation. “Nobody ever accepted me..I don’t care… I just want her to know I’m sorry…”

“I don’t know how you were in life, but if you’re the same as you were then, you could have had a wonderful life.”

“I’ve seen people take their lives and I’ve taken my own life… and do you know why people throw life out like that?” He said defensively.

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t mean to upset him.

“Gregory I didn’t mean too…”

He cut me off.

“Because they’re hollow.. Empty! Stuffed with straw and painting a smile on their face so they can be like everyone else and they don’t want to accept the fact that they’re broken.. You’re all hollow men! Stuffed with straw, smiles stitched and raised like props!”

Gregory begun to cry and I embraced him. The straws poked my skin as I felt his light body heave in anguish.

“I just want her to know I’m sorry…”

The last time I ever saw Gregory was on Halloween. At around 8 pm, he bid me farewell. I offered to come along with him but he said it was “his cross to bear”. I promised he would come by the following night to tell me what had happened, but I was instead met with calls from neighbors telling me there was a fire. The Biggins property was burning down.

I rushed over but it was too late.

It was as if the fires of hell came and devoured everything in sight. Firemen were blasting powerful streams of water into the inferno, but it didn’t budge. Nobody could get close. The house was already burnt to the ground and all that was being done now was containing the fire from spreading to the other crops. Some of the other houses caught fire but they were put out.

Then, the flames dissipated. Soot, smoke, and blackened earth. The moonlight shone on the devastation. Mrs. Biggins was covered in blankets and surrounded by people showing her support, but she was wide eyed and in a trance.

“He came for me…” she said. “He came for me… and I grabbed him and threw him in the cellar and sent him back!” She said maniacally.

I was the only one who knew what she was talking about.

I didn’t know Gregory in his life, but I knew him in his afterlife. He always a scarecrow, and came back again to roam the earth as one. Urban legends sprung up on how the devil burnt down the Biggins home, drawing attention the next day, only to be forgotten the following year.

It was this experience that led me to join the Purgatory Collective… to help those trapped in these unique circumstances.