Corn Stalked (Children Of The Corn)

Chapter #4: Who to Trust?

After Grandpa and I got the second scarecrow up, we headed out of the cornfield. He kept a tense expression the entire time, even when we split off back in the yard. He looked horrified.

I shrugged it off and went to feed the chickens. As I did, I thought about something.

My grandparents looked as if they'd pissed themselves every single time I mentioned Malachai or asked about other kids in the area. But why? And why did they say Malachai was so dangerous? He was only defending himself when I'd pulled the knife on him, and then he was nice enough to help me put up the scarecrow. He explained himself about the knife he carried as well, and it made sense. He didn't seem bad to me. My grandparents told me to beware of him but, I kind of wanted to keep seeing him around. To be his friend even. It was nice to have someone to talk to besides my old fashioned grandparents anyways.....

That night at dinner, the tense attitudes of my grandparents still hadn't ceased. I assumed Grandpa Tom had informed Grandma Joan of my second encounter with Malachai, because she regarded me with doe eyes as I sat down to eat.

Both of them watched uneasily as I picked up a knife to scoop butter out of its tub to put on my sweet roll. My grandma audibly gulped as I cut into the bread and a visible sheen of sweat had appeared on my grandpa's forehead.

This was ridiculous, what did they think I was going to do? Murder them with a butter knife?

The awkwardness in the room became so thick that I finally collapsed my knife onto my porcelain dinner plate and stood up from the table, exhaling a huffy breath.

    "I'm not really that hungry." I spouted off, grabbing my dinner roll as I walked from the kitchen, completely disproving what I'd just said.

My grandparents just watched me go, not saying a word. Not a 'We're sorry Sam!' Or a 'We don't think you've turned into a killer after talking to that boy twice.' Not even a 'Please come back and eat.' Nothing.

I stepped outside with my dinner roll and went to the side of the house, facing the cornfield. A fat log layed on its side against the house and I took a seat on it. I ate my roll in silence, thinking.

My grandparents thought I was a fucking killer. Why? Because I'd talked to a kid that carried a knife, two times. They didn't trust him, but why? Had he done something to them? Was there a beef between them and his family? It had to be something other than the fact that he carried a knife! But what? Whatever the reason was, they certainly hated him because of it.

These ideas swam around in my mind, making me feel absolutely sick. I wasn't sure what to think. Malachai, while being just a bit odd, had done me no wrong. So was it a bad thing that I trusted him?

As I thought, a steady breeze blew some of my hair and it rustled the top of the cornstalks. The sun was almost fully set in the sky, casting a gentle golden glow on everything. For once, the cornfield actually looked kind of pretty. It almost made me feel a bit peaceful too.

Until I felt the squeeze of a hand on my shoulder.

Jumping out of my skin, I slapped the hand away and turned to its owner, expecting it to be one of my grandparents.

But it wasn't. It was a boy; short, maybe thirteen years old. He had black curly hair and light grey eyes. He wore maroon pants with suspenders over a clean grey button up shirt. His face was fixed in surprise, as was mine to see him there.

    "Who are you?!" I demanded to know.

    ".....Name's Joseph. You're Sammy, right?" The boy replied carefully.

    "How'd you know that?" I inquired, stunned.

    "Malachai talks of you to the rest of us. Says you've come here to spend the summer with your grandparents." Joseph stated.