The town of Dusky Hollow was sleepy, quiet, and bathed in tradition. On the surface, it seemed like an average American village, with white picket fences surrounding the immaculate lawns of quaint cookie-cutter houses. Each one contained a family with an average of 1.5 children and working-class parents. They would attend the harvest festivities on the edge of town, not knowing if one of their children would be chosen in honour,

This year like every other, eleven children were chosen. Once chosen by the PTA, symbols would appear above the family portraits of the child, and they would be brought to the corn maze, and they would enter, never to return. It was natural, eleven children were handed over for eleven months of prosperity. The panic began when one of the eleven was misplaced, put in front of the maze, an omen only the children had recognized.

The Master was displeased. One of the children chosen this year was too old to be considered one, which alone was passable. The boy had already suffered for his transgression and was made use of. His screams abated the wrath of the master well enough that they would have survived another year.

It was a man named Samual that had earned the town the Master’s ire. He had been making a mockery of the event with his own hollow tradition. He had carved adults in the way reserved for children, as if to say they were being honoured the same way. The Master was displeased, and the scarecrow was an omen of their fate if things remained unchecked.

As the days of October ticked by, the adults barely recognized the scarecrow for what it was, let alone do anything about it. When they had the audacity to remove it, for scaring the children, the Master grew enraged by their arrogance, and their fate was sealed.

He had been kind to them, bringing prosperity in a world otherwise devoid of it. It was a small thing to ask, eleven children for eleven months. The town would be wiped clean, and a new one would replace it. In the current economy, few would balk at the opportunity he provided, and the honour he would provide their children.

It was not much for him to return to flames the town he had cultivated and raised. Their screams soothed his rage as the town burned down around him. Only one would survive, one who had devoted himself and would allow the passing of tradition. On the thirty-first they began again from the ashes, building the hamlet of Dusky Hollow once more.

“Looking for a home?” Images of smiling faces and quaint cookie-cutter homes with white picket fences flashed across the screen, as Silas H. Black's voice enticed the masses. “Looking for a place to work and raise your family? Consider Dusky Hollow, for employment opportunities and a place to settle down.” His voice drew in the desperate, in search of safety only found in small-town life. Enticed before the fifteen-second commercial ended and they would return to their dreary reality. Some would consider Dusky Hollow. Some would take him up on the promises he provided. Hopefully, this herd would listen to the Master, or suffer the same fate as the last.

The End...

Part Four wass written by myself, be sure to check out my other works, if you like horror, mystery, or pop-idol drama.