The Stick Man's Harvest

By: Wayne Summers
September 9, 2008

Summer was over and the crisp, fresh autumn air held the promise of an early winter. Already the trees, resplendent in vibrant shades of red and gold, were shedding their leaves and the large banks of powdery grey clouds which hovered on the horizon were looming ever closer.

The Taylor family was still settling into the large, newly-renovated farmhouse they had recently purchased. The children, Joseph, a curious eight year-old boy, and his older sister, Tara, eleven years old and a bit of a tomboy, were exploring the old barn nestled between the house and the large wooded area which surrounded the house on the northern and eastern sides. Since the woods were out-of-bounds, the children had spent the last two days playing along the banks of the creek which ran along the bottom of the hill on which their house stood, exploring the reeds and catching frogs. The only other place left un-investigated had been the old barn.

The old barn had yet to be cleared out. The family's energies had been focused on cleaning and painting the house and generally making it liveable. Yet it was precisely the combination of cobwebs, old farm machinery and two levels filled with shadows and tiny nooks that made it such an irresistible temptation to the two very independent children. Had they known the secrets it held, they would have investigated sooner.

It was quite by accident that Tara found the envelope which was to bring them all so much trouble. She had been searching through a collection of objects and ornaments on a bench top, when she accidentally knocked an old, wooden desk clock onto the barn floor. Naturally, being so old and brittle, it smashed into dozens of pieces causing Tara to gasp in shock.

Joseph, who had been exploring a rusty tractor parked nearby, leapt off the driver's seat and hurried over to where Tara stood.

"What have you done!?" he asked dramatically. Everything was such a big deal to him, especially when it involved the possibility of getting into trouble.

"Nothing," Tara answered curtly. "No-one will notice. I'll clean it up and Mum and Dad will never know."

She knelt down and started gathering the pieces of the broken clock together while Joseph looked on. She dropped the larger pieces onto an old hessian sack she'd found on the lower shelf of the bench. One piece from the back of the clock landed on its side as it hit the thick weave of the dusty sack and when it toppled over Tara noticed something stuck to the back of it. She placed the remaining few pieces she had in her hand onto the sack and bent down to get a closer look.

"What's that?" asked Joseph, craning his neck to see what had so engaged his sister's attention.

"Someone must have hidden it there," she mumbled to herself. She pondered the thought for a few seconds and then remembered what she had been about to do.

While Joseph watched with eager eyes, Tara opened the stained, discoloured envelope and removed the piece of yellowed paper inside. Before she opened it she looked up at Joseph, whose eyes seemed to beg her to continue, so she carefully unfolded the paper and read it.

"What does it say?" Joseph asked eagerly. "What does it say?"

Tara looked up at him and frowned.

"Hang on a minute!"

Tara read it again, this time out loud so her over-anxious brother could hear it.

Sticks for fingers,

Sticks for hair,

Stick Man cometh,

So best beware!

"What does it mean?" Joseph asked leaning over his big sister's shoulder.

"How am I supposed to know?!" she snapped, elbowing him away before standing up.

"Ow! You're really mean to me," he complained, rubbing his arm.

Tara couldn't get the rhyme about the Stick Man out of her head. For the rest of the afternoon she walked around either humming it or singing it.

Sticks for fingers,

Sticks for hair,

Stick Man cometh,

So best beware!

Over and over she sang it not realising that the shadow which had fallen over the woods the first time she uttered the mysterious rhyme was growing darker each time. And although no-one noticed, the birds had stopped singing.