Scarecrow Jonathan Crane Novels & Stories

The white crane flew lower and landed on the snowy ground, and only then did the children realize that there were people riding the crane! On the crown of its majestic head, a middle-aged man with white brows and peppered hair, a skinny teenager with a scar on his neck, a little boy not even a decade old and an ugly, fat cat were sitting cross-legged. The muscular man who had captured the children could not help but yell in fright, “You are… cultivators?!”

“Splendid!” The tall scarecrow walked on toward Town Hall, with his long, awkward stride. It was Mrs. Belfry who had brought the strange creature to Lilith’s Hollow. He was once human but nutty as a loon. It was a curse that transformed him into the scarecrow and, as calculated correctly by the witch, saved his sanity. The citizens of the town took him in with the same kindness and acceptance they showed to all new creatures.

But Janice is getting to me. I gulp. Another crash makes Charlie bark. I turn the knob of the door.

Crane blew a raspberry as he growled, "Did you think you could deceive me like some child?" "True." Frank nodded but soon scowled. "In that case, let me put it this way… Tell me what has become of Torrent, and I will afford you a quick death. How about that?" "Sure." Surprisingly, Crane agreed to it while still smiling. If anything, he appeared even more excited now! Chuckling, he said, "I can see that I'm no match for you, Frank Lawrence… But you can't kill me. I can't die, thanks to Torrent!"

"At least I'm doing something! “Jonathan got agitated, getting even closer to where I was. With all the effort I could make, I managed to open a small crack in my eyes, seeing nothing but figures and lights. Still, when Jonathan screamed again, it was the silhouette of Jon Maxwell that I saw in front of him. "You waste your time recruiting these filthy people and forget that your daughter is the same age as half of those bastards! Every time you ask me to steal someone's life, I lose my mind. You have no right to blame me for being the monster you created!”

It was important to note that so many Sanctuary level spellmasters had not been able to master the Thunder Bombs spell. Even Maddox's face was filled with disbelief. Wilbur sneered coldly and hurled all nine Thunder Bombs over in Maddox's direction. He quickly retreated in a fit of panic, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The Demon Raven Storm condensed in front of him, forming a gigantic scarecrow. This scarecrow was about ten meters tall. Countless ravens circled its head as it held two scythes in front of its chest in the shape of a cross.

The creeper took a step to them, snarling with drool slipping from its mouth down to the sand. “I have no choice but to step in.” The pregnant woman said about moving. The creeper halted, something was wrong and it felt it soon after It’s eyes widened as it’s body slowly deteriorated from his sides leaving only it’s two legs. “What the?!” the pregnant woman was surprised. “… how did he do that?!” “We survived!” Peirce and Node rejoiced as their knees where almost failing them. “It was more scary than the Torzillas.” Peirce exhaled, fell on his knees on their accomplishment, Node held his shaking hand as he forced a smile on his face.

Crane ever since. "This is the report of all the places Dr. Crane has been in Ravenwell. The Grays and the Bronsons were the only ones he contacted in the last three days he's been in the city. "News of your arrival in Ravenwell has set the hackers on the dark web into a frenzy. It won't be long before a horde of top-tier hackers show up in the city to look for you. They'll wreak havoc on the city once they arrive, and Chief Bronson will bear the brunt of it."

Then I did and my eyes widened. I gasped and looked at him. But Alec grinned casually as though he'd just made a big declaration and resumed staring at the stage as Victor Lane took over the microphone again. “Our first piece is titled ‘After the Harvest' an oil on canvas, 18 by 24 inches. Ruth Anderson captures a scarecrow in silhouette against a burning orange sky, arms outstretched like he was guarding something sacred. We’ll open the bid at five thousand dollars.” “Five thousand. Five-five. Six! Six-five. Seven thousand to the gentleman by the aisle. Do I hear seventy-five hundred?”

⸻ Everyone slowly turned toward Bramble. Bramble’s eyes became enormous. Mason stared at the pack. Then at Bramble. Then back at the pack. “No.” ⸻ Rowan whispered, “There’s no way.” ⸻ The flap moved. A tiny gray head emerged. “Mrrrp.” ⸻ Mason closed his eyes. Nobody spoke. Nobody was stupid enough. ⸻ Except Rowan. “Cricket!” ⸻ Mason opened his eyes. “HOW?” ⸻