Scarecrow Jonathan Crane Novels & Stories

Her voice was soft and melodious, which James took as a sign that he'd successfully placated her. … Evan's Rolls-Royce was parked outside Beverly's neighborhood for an entire night. She hadn't come home at all. By the time the first light broke over the sky, he'd snubbed the last cigarette in the ashtray. He returned home to wash off the exhaustion. "Evan, look who came to Ravenwell!" Heather announced excitedly as she led the old physician through the door. "It's Dr. Crane!" Eric Crane, an elderly, reclusive physician, took one look at Evan's pallor and exhaustion and immediately seized the latter's wrist to read his pulse.

⸻ 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?” ⸻

Jason Crane thought he had thrown me away but this wasn't the end of my story. It was just the beginning.

That bothered them because they were incapable of accepting anyone different. On the night chosen to throw Jonah out of town, it was snowing heavily, but that didn't stop those malicious individuals led by a man named Alfredo from waiting for hours. At nine o'clock at night, Jonah was about to cross the bridge, when he felt several hands holding him tightly. In vain he tried to get free. Immediately he feared the worst, but he did not cry out. He knew that nobody would help him, not him, a monster. They wrapped him up in a blanket and put him in a sack. He risked suffocation, but those individuals were so stupid that they didn't think about it, even though they didn't care.

Anne wished they hadn’t spoken to that batty old man, listening to his riddles and dead-end tales. The later discovery of alternate tales, crude folklore and legends betrayed by a handful of the old or wandering mad reinforced Damon’s suspicions of an ancient grave site, though there was no recorded information of its existence until Damon’s final research paper. There Damon recounted it by name, “The Mourner’s Cradle.”

............. Come on!” Bay cheered the drooling beast. "Show me what you can!" The crane, an Ursus prole, with the colors of the rising sun, crept around its victim, growling. He kept his eyes on the young, blond man's small handgun. He had learned in the years of his imprisonment. He knew how dangerous this thing was, that it meant pain. But he was hungry, so very hungry. And sometimes he even managed to grab a bite before the pain came.

My heart slammed painfully against my ribs while I tried again to loosen my wrists, but the ropes only tightened harder the more I struggled. Then suddenly the chair jerked backward violently and I screamed. Rough hands grabbed the sack covering my head and yanked it off hard enough to sting. Bright light hit my eyes immediately and I turned my face away with a gasp, blinking rapidly as my vision struggled to focus. “Aw, look at her,” somebody mocked with a laugh. “Poor little thing is terrified.” My stomach dropped. There were men everywhere. Big men with guns hanging from their hands like it was nothing, their dark clothes blending into the filthy warehouse around us. Rusted pipes lined th

Think about something, make up something, Enola. Me: Mr Crane, I am not talking about you, I am talking about someone else. Crane: Who is someone else? Last time I checked, I have a letter C tattooed on my arm. That was in your essay. F^ck! I am screwed. Me: Mr Crane, I can explain...It's not what you think. Crane: Oh, it is exactly what I think it is. I am coming over to you so that you can explain to me. I will let you know how I explore, because my ways of exploring are more than what you can ever imagine.

Then she said, “I need you to come with me tomorrow. Crane’s hosting a brunch for some of the vendor consortium. Normally I’d go alone. But not this time.” Julian turned. “You want me there to be seen?” “No,” she said. “I want you there to make them uncomfortable.” Julian nodded. “Then I’ll wear something expensive.” Charlotte stepped forward, brushed a kiss against his jaw, and whispered: “Let’s give them something they won’t forget.” At midnight, in a dark corner of the city, Victor Crane watched a report flicker onto his tablet. It was footage of Julian at Harrowgate Logistics. A shaky cam from a distance, barely focused—but clear enough to show him reviewing paperwork, pointing out discr

Sliding through the snow, I try to come to an abrupt stop just before I reach the place where I left Jarek's body. There is a large black mound on the ground. As I move closer I can see that it is a ton of crows all picking their way over Jarek's body. I stop in horror as I watch one of the crows pick out an eyeball and fly off with it in its mouth. A lump forms in the back of my throat as I look at the scene that is taking place in front of me.