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Scarecrow, Scarecrow
Anne McFry Series Book 1
by John Kaniecki
Genre: Horror
The Scarecrow lurks in the shadows of a young girl’s frightened mind.
Everywhere Anne McFry looks, she sees the face of a twisted demon
that haunts her past. Escaping from the horror ridden town and going
to the big city, Anne thinks she is safe from the Scarecrow. That is
until it starts popping up everywhere she looks. Befriending a young
man against her better judgement, she experiences a demented ride of
torture as the past she is running from catches up to her. The
Scarecrow is coming to collect dues, and the only payment Anne has is
her soul.
John Kaniecki was born in Brooklyn, New York. Though having no memories of
life there, John is proud to be called a Native New Yorker. John was
raised in Pequanock Township, New Jersey. At age twenty John was
baptized and became a member of the Church of Christ. Presently John
resides in Montclair, NJ and lives with his wife of over twelve years
Sylvia. The happy couple attend the Church of Christ at Chancellor
Avenue in Newark, NJ. John is very active in outreach and teaching as
part of the leadership of the congregation.
In the distance raged the tall red candles lit with dancing fire. The flickering of the flames
produced surreal shadows as if demons were dancing upon the walls. In the background, quite a
distance away, stood the members of the coven. They were chanting their unholy praise to the
dark lord whom they served. Exactly what was transpiring Anne was uncertain. For some
unknown reason, she had misunderstood the time of the meeting and arrived a full hour later than
the correct starting time.
Anne, of course at the time, had no idea who was in that brown robe at this point. The
individual wore a plain mask. It was one of a white face with thick black circles around the eyes.
The mouth consisted of protruding fangs. It was another anonymous member. Anne knew the
identity of a good number of the group. Of course, the oath for secrecy was the most
fundamental vow that the organization maintained. The obvious reason was that betrayal in this
aspect would bring rapid demise to one’s existence in the normal world. So as a precaution, all
the members wore masks to conceal their identities. All were instructed that if they were ever to
testify in court, they would swear that they knew no one’s true name.
As soon as Anne arrived, the action began. “Black Master Grand,” called out the one who
went by the name of Dragon Sword. “We have gathered here today to discuss your actions.”
When the words were uttered, the reaction of the brown robed figure was swift. He
looked upwards like a dog who heard a whistle disturbing its ears in agony.
The high priest continued, “It has been declared that you willfully and flagrantly
disobeyed a direct command of the Grand Priest.”
Anne shuddered herself when she heard the accusation. For a moment, she felt great
sympathy for the accused. If he was found guilty, the penalty would be most severe. Though far
from an expert in the by laws and regulations of the coven, Anne could not imagine that there
would be any penalty less than death for the offense.
“How plead ye?” demanded Dragon Sword.
“I am innocent, of course,” cried out the muffled voice of Black Master Grand. “I demand
to face my accusers. Where are those who lie upon me?”
Dragon Sword looked over at Dark Bear, and the two met in a prolonged stare. It was as
if they were somehow communicating in a non-verbal way. Anne could not comprehend how
that could be, especially since both of the men were wearing masks that concealed all facialmovements. After several seconds, Dragon Sword spoke in a roaring voice, “It has been
determined that you are guilty of this crime.”
Black Master Grand stabbed back as if he was a boxer reeling from a hard jab. Dark
Bear, who was a larger individual, went forward and reached out his massive hand grabbing
Black Master Grand’s robe. He then jerked the man backward and pushed him to the ground. At
the same time, Dragon Sword pulled out a long dagger approximately nine-inches long that was
hidden under his tunic.
Upon the ground, Black Master Grand gave a shrill cry as if he was a woman giving child
birth. The victim’s right hand was on the ground propping up his body while he raised his left in
defense. Dragon Sword advanced with the silver blade in his hand, eerily flickering in the
candles’ illumination. It appeared as if the weapon pulsated with electric energy. With a savage
swiftness, the occultist plunged the dagger down striking the arm of the target. The cloth shred
away, and soon blood was pouring out. It saturated the arm. Black Master Grand wailed in agony
at the top of his lung. All the while the sickly sounding choir chanting its evil melody in the
distance perked up.
Anne raised her hand to her mouth in disbelief. Several more brutal slashes descended.
Still, the poor wretch somehow kept his bloodied hand raised in protection. “Please, please,
please,” he cried pathetically. Dark Bear advanced and savagely kicked the violator. Black
Master Grand wailed once more in pain. Dragon Sword lurched forward and slashed repeatedly
back and forth. The poor man’s robe was shredded to pieces. Apparently, so was his skin, for
blood oozed out wherever he was cut. Then, in frenzy, the high priest stabbed over and over and
over. The young lady lost count of the times he thrust down his weapon. In surreal voices, the
devil worshipping praise filled the air competing with the yelps of pain. Finally, Black Master
Grand ceased to resist. Still, as if insatiable for blood and violence, the attack continued. Finally,
the creature was no more than a mutilated sack of bones and flesh.
In the process of the devastation, the mask fell off. Anne was appalled to learn the
identity of the man once known as Black Master Grand. The gray hair and long nose was
unmistakable. It was none other than Wilbur Ferris. The killer turned towards Anne and barked
out in a commanding voice, “Help me with this body.”
Anne hesitated, daring not to take a single step forward.
produced surreal shadows as if demons were dancing upon the walls. In the background, quite a
distance away, stood the members of the coven. They were chanting their unholy praise to the
dark lord whom they served. Exactly what was transpiring Anne was uncertain. For some
unknown reason, she had misunderstood the time of the meeting and arrived a full hour later than
the correct starting time.
Anne, of course at the time, had no idea who was in that brown robe at this point. The
individual wore a plain mask. It was one of a white face with thick black circles around the eyes.
The mouth consisted of protruding fangs. It was another anonymous member. Anne knew the
identity of a good number of the group. Of course, the oath for secrecy was the most
fundamental vow that the organization maintained. The obvious reason was that betrayal in this
aspect would bring rapid demise to one’s existence in the normal world. So as a precaution, all
the members wore masks to conceal their identities. All were instructed that if they were ever to
testify in court, they would swear that they knew no one’s true name.
As soon as Anne arrived, the action began. “Black Master Grand,” called out the one who
went by the name of Dragon Sword. “We have gathered here today to discuss your actions.”
When the words were uttered, the reaction of the brown robed figure was swift. He
looked upwards like a dog who heard a whistle disturbing its ears in agony.
The high priest continued, “It has been declared that you willfully and flagrantly
disobeyed a direct command of the Grand Priest.”
Anne shuddered herself when she heard the accusation. For a moment, she felt great
sympathy for the accused. If he was found guilty, the penalty would be most severe. Though far
from an expert in the by laws and regulations of the coven, Anne could not imagine that there
would be any penalty less than death for the offense.
“How plead ye?” demanded Dragon Sword.
“I am innocent, of course,” cried out the muffled voice of Black Master Grand. “I demand
to face my accusers. Where are those who lie upon me?”
Dragon Sword looked over at Dark Bear, and the two met in a prolonged stare. It was as
if they were somehow communicating in a non-verbal way. Anne could not comprehend how
that could be, especially since both of the men were wearing masks that concealed all facialmovements. After several seconds, Dragon Sword spoke in a roaring voice, “It has been
determined that you are guilty of this crime.”
Black Master Grand stabbed back as if he was a boxer reeling from a hard jab. Dark
Bear, who was a larger individual, went forward and reached out his massive hand grabbing
Black Master Grand’s robe. He then jerked the man backward and pushed him to the ground. At
the same time, Dragon Sword pulled out a long dagger approximately nine-inches long that was
hidden under his tunic.
Upon the ground, Black Master Grand gave a shrill cry as if he was a woman giving child
birth. The victim’s right hand was on the ground propping up his body while he raised his left in
defense. Dragon Sword advanced with the silver blade in his hand, eerily flickering in the
candles’ illumination. It appeared as if the weapon pulsated with electric energy. With a savage
swiftness, the occultist plunged the dagger down striking the arm of the target. The cloth shred
away, and soon blood was pouring out. It saturated the arm. Black Master Grand wailed in agony
at the top of his lung. All the while the sickly sounding choir chanting its evil melody in the
distance perked up.
Anne raised her hand to her mouth in disbelief. Several more brutal slashes descended.
Still, the poor wretch somehow kept his bloodied hand raised in protection. “Please, please,
please,” he cried pathetically. Dark Bear advanced and savagely kicked the violator. Black
Master Grand wailed once more in pain. Dragon Sword lurched forward and slashed repeatedly
back and forth. The poor man’s robe was shredded to pieces. Apparently, so was his skin, for
blood oozed out wherever he was cut. Then, in frenzy, the high priest stabbed over and over and
over. The young lady lost count of the times he thrust down his weapon. In surreal voices, the
devil worshipping praise filled the air competing with the yelps of pain. Finally, Black Master
Grand ceased to resist. Still, as if insatiable for blood and violence, the attack continued. Finally,
the creature was no more than a mutilated sack of bones and flesh.
In the process of the devastation, the mask fell off. Anne was appalled to learn the
identity of the man once known as Black Master Grand. The gray hair and long nose was
unmistakable. It was none other than Wilbur Ferris. The killer turned towards Anne and barked
out in a commanding voice, “Help me with this body.”
Anne hesitated, daring not to take a single step forward.
“I said Day Night, help me with this body,” he insisted one more. This time the decree
was formal as Anne’s secret name was evoked. It was a direct command, and what happened to
those who disobey had been so clearly illustrated but a moment ago.
