#i want him to spank me with those oven mitts. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kookiemydream · 5 years

Text

BTS reaction → realising that they’re in love with you.

paring: bts x reader

warnings: mentions of smut

genre: hardcore fluff

a/n: my first reaction on this account! hope you love it!

ask box | about me

↠ kim seokjin.

Jin first realised that he loved you when you offered to cook for his parents.

It was your first time meeting them and out of respect, you wanted to make a good first impression. So, you put two and two together and figured that if Jin liked your food a whole lot, the people who raised him surely would.

And that’s how you found yourself in the kitchen, sweating your ass off from all the steam that was erupting from the food. Wiping away your sweat with a tea towel, you bent down to take the meal out of the oven.

Before you could straighten your posture up again, you felt two strong hands grip your waist and something poke your backside. “Jesus Y/n, my parents are in the other room! Gosh, control yourself!” Your boyfriend joked, pretending to only scoot past to get to the other side.

“I hate you so much.” you chuckled, putting the piping-hot food onto the counter and taking off your oven mitts. You wiped your forehead once more and then turned around to face him. Jin sensed that you were stressed and took a step towards you, taking your hand and bringing it up to his lips. “You sure you don’t need any help baby? I’d be happy to lend a hand?”

You shook your head “No no, I got this! Just go spend time with your parents, maybe tell them that joke you told me yesterday?” Humorously, you pushed him out towards the door, spanking him lightly with the tea towel.

“Okay okay, you big bully! I’m going!’ he pretended to walk out however stood behind the corner, just looking at you and admiring how concentrated and dedicated you were to making people happy and comfortable. He imagined the same scenario except. it was his kids you were making dinner for instead of his parents.

That was the moment he realised that he was in love with you.

That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

↠min yoongi.

Yoongi realised that he was in love with you when you were sick with the flu.

Not because you became all clingy and vulnerable like everyone would expect, but because you became the complete opposite.

Instead of sitting in bed all day, blowing your nose and drowning in your own sorrows, you decided it was a good day to start some of your essays that were due. You know? Get that head start.

It was safe to say that Yoongi was extremely surprised to find you sprawled out across the desk sleeping, a yellow post it note stuck to your cheek. He chuckled and made his way over to you.

“Y/n?” he gently moved your hair out of your face and removed the sticky note. When you didn’t respond, he tried a different tactic which was kissing your cheeks until you woke up. “Come on baby, let’s get you to bed.”

“No Yoongi!” You whined tiredly, not even bothering to open your eyes. “I have to finish this before next week!”

“Y/n honey, you’re sick! You really shouldn’t be doing anything that requires energy!”

“But the essay!”

“No ‘buts’! Come here.” Yoongi said softly before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to the bedroom, bridal style. He tucked you inside the duvet, making sure you were warm and comfortable and kissed your forehead before turning around and outing the light next to you.

That was the moment that Yoongi fell in love with you. He decided at that moment that he wanted to be the one and only person who looked after you. To be the person who carried you to bed when you’re sick and tired.

To be the person who removed the sticky note from your cheek.

↠ jung hoseok

Hoseok realised that he was in love with you when he took you to the funfair.

It was your two year anniversary as a couple and he decided that taking you to the place where you had your first ever date was perfect to celebrate this special event.

“Oh my god Hobi!” you screamed, making the people around you and him stare “They still have the stall! After all these years! Can you believe it?”

Grabbing his hand quickly, you pulled him towards the infamous stand that hung a bunch of teddies all around it. The aim of the game was to knock down as many cans as you can with three balls. If you manage to knock down all of them down, you win!

“Y/n, wanna play?” he questioned, laughing at how excited you were “Let’s see if I still have what it takes to win a prize huh?”

You giggled and nodded, watching him concentrate on his aim and throw. The first ball was a success, knocking the majority of the cans over however there was still a couple left at the bottom.

The second ball was not quite as good as the first considering that Hoseok’s aim was a little off. He still had one more ball left, which meant that he still had a chance.

Before throwing the ball, he looked back at you. At that you held your thumbs up, as if to say: ‘good luck!’ Luckily, the third ball did do the trick and managed to know over the remaining cans.

You cheered as the guy at the stall handed over a giant teddy bear to your boyfriend who immediately passed the bear to you “You still have it bubs!” You said, kissing his cheeks “Now come on, I wanna go on the merry go round!”

And that was the minute Hoseok realised that he was in love with you. He wanted to be the one to win the prizes and make you as happy as tonight.

Always.

↠ kim namjoon

Namjoon realised that he was in love with you when you both went to the beach.

The whole country at the time, was going through a massive heatwave. So, you and Namjoon decided to spend the day near the sea, just to cool yourselves off.

“Ahh, it's so hot! I need to dive in that water asap!” you quickly shoved your flip flops off before ridding yourself of your shirt and shorts, leaving you in just your bikini.

Behind you, you heard a small wolf whistle and then you felt two arms wrap around your waist, turning you clockwise towards the culprit himself.

“See if I knew you had this on underneath?” he pinged the strap on your shoulder “Then we would be at home right now getting even hotter.” Smirking, you felt his hands travel further down your backside.

Before Namjoon could reach the designated place, you grabbed his arm swiftly before hauling his body towards the water. As soon as your body hit the sea however, you froze up. The water was absolutely freezing and you were bound to get some sort of illness after this.

On the other hand, your boyfriend seemed to be prone to the low temperatures and was still laughing and splashing about. Although you were in pain, you still tried to laugh it off considering you were the one who wanted to get in in the first place.

Nethertheless, Namjoon wasn’t stupid and could see from a mile away that you were cold. So without any hesitation, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You guys were still under the surface of the water so of course you were cold however being pressed against his chest with his muscular arms all around you made you feel slightly warmer. Inside it did anyways.

While you were focused on gaining back the feeling in your arms and legs, Namjoon was thinking about other things.

He realised that he wanted to be the only one that made you warm when you were cold.

The only one for you in general.

↠ park jimin

Jimin realised that he was in love with you during a movie night that he had suggested.

Something that Jimin and you usually missed out on was cuddle time because of the dance practices and tours that always went on.

Now that he was on break, he finally had the time to spend on you and what better way to spend that time then a cosy movie night in?

You walked in from the kitchen, holding a big bowl of popcorn before setting it down on the coffee table and snuggling up into your boyfriend's chest. “So, what are we watching?” you quizzically asked, grabbing the blanket on the arm of the sofa and draping it over the two of you.

“Well, the boys recommended this new romantic comedy film so I thought we’d give it a watch!” Jimin answered, pointing the remote at the TV and pressing the play button.

Once the film had started, you felt him relax under your embrace. His lips kissed the top of your head and ever so slightly, you could hear his calming heartbeat. You felt safe with him and that was the most important thing.

One of the scenes from the movie actually turned out to be extremely sad and believe it or not, you ended up softly crying into Jimin’s chest. “Baby, don’t cry!” He said sympathetically “Come on, let’s just wipe those tears huh? You’re so precious jagiya.”

He wiped your eyes with the palm of his hands before softly kissing your lips.

And that, seeing you crack a smile after the small kiss that he himself had given you, made him realise that he wanted to be the only one to comfort you.

↠ kim taehyung

Taehyung realised that he was in love with you while watching you do your makeup.

You two were due for a night out with the rest of the boys and their partners. That being arranged, you wanted to look your very best as you figured a lot of photos would be taken that night.

So here you were, you sat at the dressing table, gently applying your mascara to you eyes and your boyfriend lounged out across the bed, scrolling through his mindlessly.

“Ahh come on Y/n!” he whined humorously “We’re gonna be late otherwise! You don’t even need makeup anyways!”

You rolled your eyes and smirked, “Hey, you can’t rush beauty okay? Plus, I do it because I like it! And you do too so you can’t complain!”

Taehyung chuckled, throwing his phone next to him and sitting up to look at you. You had finished with the mascara and moved onto the lipstick, which was a nice red lip that matched your dress that you had one.

You looked stunning.

And Taehyung couldn’t stop staring.

Once you had finished, you checked yourself out to see if everything was in order when you caught the glance of Taehyung in the mirror. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He shook his head and smiled softly “No it’s just, you look beautiful.”

You felt yourself blush hard and covered your face with your hands.

And that was the moment Taehyung fell in love with you. He realised he wanted to be the only one to compliment you and make you blush the way you did with him.

↠ jeon jungkook

Jungkook realised that he loved you whilst you were eating.

It was a Saturday night and the thought of cooking at this time tired you out. So you both came to the solution of ordering takeout, more specifically one of your faves.

When the door finally rang, you jumped up from the couch and bolted to the door, already starving from the weight. Jungkook laughed at your excitement before going into the kitchen and getting a couple plates and cutlery for you to dine with.

After saying thank you to the delivery guy, you joined your boyfriend on the table and was happy to see that everything was prepared for you to start eating.

“So you were that hungry huh?” Jungkook joked as you quickly filled your mouth with the meal. “Is it good?”

You nodded vigorously, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk from all the food that had been devoured. You swallowed the food then moaned in delight as the flavours embraced your tongue.

Jungkook laughed. He had never seen someone so happy to eat food the way you were. Well, except from his brother Jin. Every bite he saw you took, filled you more and more with joy and delight.

And then the thought hit him.

He wanted to be the one who fed you and made you happy with every bite. He wanted to be the one to take care for you everyday for the rest of his life.

He realised he was in love with you.

In love with the love you had for food.

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sarahwritessirens · 3 years

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Does Corn Stalk?

I’ve decided to post a short story that I wrote a while ago when I was for certain, absolutely, no take-backs going to run a podcast of Midwestern gothic stories. I have another one I’m working on. They all take place in this little nowhere Midwestern town (like where I grew up!) and the residents have odd stories to tell about their home. I need to continue working on these, but for now, I think I’ll post some short stories/snippets of full-length stories that I’m working on.

***

“Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?”

Nate had heard his grandfather’s joke every day for his entire thirteen years on earth. He wasn’t sure if the old man thought he had never told it, or knew good and well Nate knew the answer and just didn’t care. But, then again, Nate loved the reaction he got, so he appeased him every time.

“I dunno, Grandpa. Why don’t you?”

“Because corn stalks!” the old man answered before the round of coughing laughter that all grandpas seemed to revert to. His eyes closed tight, the edges folding into gleeful wrinkles as he slapped his knee, rocking a little in his chair on the porch.

The joke was hilarious when Nate was little. Now, it had run its course. Still, it was hard not to smile when his grandpa was happy. Those days were rare after the accident.

It was a warm day at the tail end of summer. It was a corn season, and the stalks across the road from them reached high into the sky. In the past, Nate would be running through the fields chasing his friends, trying not to knock down any stalks, lest the sharp crack of the fall alert the farmer that the kids were playing in his crop again. They would get lost in the waxy, waving leaves of the plants, occasionally ripping one in half, or peeling one down to just below their knees to mark their route.

After the accident, Nate was told to stay out of the fields. The one time his mother had found out he had disobeyed her, he couldn’t sit comfortably for a week. More than the pain, the fright that came over his mother’s face when he came walking out of the edge of the field had shocked Nate. His mother hadn’t spanked him since he tried to touch a hot burner as a toddler, and even now, a year later, the terror on her face did far more to deter him from ever entering the field again than the pain.

“I’m gonna heat your lunch for you, Grandpa,” Nate said, patting the old man on the shoulder as he walked across the front porch and opened the front door. “Mom made you a feast, hope you’re super hungry.”

“Oh, yeah?” the old man asked, standing up with a creak in his knees. “What’d that woman send me today?”

“We got some meatloaf and mashed potatoes with cornbread.”

“Ah,” his grandpa responded. “So glad she found my son. Your dad can’t boil water without burning it.”

Nate laughed a little as he walked into the kitchen to put the glass pan in the oven. Ten minutes, he thought in his head. Not longer than ten minutes.

“So, any updates from the tryouts?”

Nate finished setting the over and sighed, leaning against the counter as he looked toward his grandpa, who was taking a seat in his chair at the table.

“Nothing yet. I dunno, Grandpa, I don’t get my hopes up too much. I’m the shortest kid in my grade.”

“So?”

“So, that matters a lot in basketball.”

“Listen here, Nathaniel,” the old man said with stern authority. “You may not have the height of other boys, but by god if you aren’t the most agile and fastest boy in the whole county. Your uncle used to play, and he wasn’t over two hairs taller than you are now. But nobody, absolutely nobody could ever catch him when he ran across that court. Seeing him zero in on that hoop was like watching a snake after a field mouse in the corn.”

Nate looked down at the ground for a moment. It was happening. The darkness that took his grandpa away was creeping in, fooling him with pictures of children that his grandpa didn’t have. The old man’s eyes were darkening like a sky overtaken by a sudden storm.

Nate never quite knew how to handle it. No big shocks, his father always warned. Don’t let him think too long. Ten minutes. Not longer than ten minutes.

“Have you thought about what color you want the house painted?” Nate asked, shifting from one foot to another. “The best painting days are almost over. We don’t know how bad the autumn is going to be yet.”

The old man watched Nate with a lost, empty gaze for a moment, and then the darkness lifted. Light poured into his eyes again and he focused on his grandson.

“Your dad said ‘no’ to the lime green request, eh?”

“I tried to fight that one for you,” Nate said.

“Course you did. You’re a good kid. Well,” his grandpa said, looking around the room. “Maybe just a nice, clean coat of white. Maybe some lime green shutters, though,” he said with a wink.

Nate laughed as the stove timer buzzed. Not longer than ten minutes.

“You got it, Grandpa. That way, we at least win something,” he said, putting the oven mitts on his hand to pull out the container.

“We take what we can get,” his grandfather said with a sigh, standing to his feet with another creak in his knees as he walked toward the dish cabinet. He pulled out a plate and a fork and set it down on the table. Then, he reached into the fridge to grab a bottle of root beer—his favorite—and sat down.

Then the silence. Nate could feel it. The storm was rolling back in.

“I hope your hungry,” Nate said, with forced cheeriness as he set the glass pan down on the table. “Mom cooked enough to feed—”

His grandfather grabbed his arm just as he set the plate down, his grip so tight that Nate yelped. Shadows smothered the old man’s eyes as he stared into Nate’s.

“Don’t ever trust it, kid. Don’t you ever trust that thing in there. It’ll take what you love and leave you with a hole that you won’t ever cover up. Nothing can stop it. It stalks you. Don’t let it know anything about how to get to you, because it stalks you.”

Nate was frozen aside from the all-over body trembling. “Grandpa,” he managed to squeak out. “Grandpa, you’re hurting me.”

The old man never broke his stare, but promptly let go of Nate’s arm. He stared at the boy for a moment more, that cold, deep darkness still clouding his eyes.

Then the light came back and the man looked at the table with a smile, as though nothing had ever happened. “Well, that looks great, doesn’t it? Sure glad you mom found my son, he can’t boil water without burning it.”

***

Twilight fell over the fields as Nate started walking down the road.

Keep straight ahead, he told himself. He could feel the lure of the field pulling from his right. He always felt it on his walk home; something begging him to explore the cavernous veils of shadows between the stalks. But his mother and father had ordered him to never go into the field again. If he heard or felt anything funny, he was to keep looking straight ahead and, most importantly, keep walking.

The wind picked up and rustled his hair. It felt familiar and soothing. It reminded him of his grandmother, when she would smooth his hair out after he had come in for lemonade breaks while playing with his friends. Long ago, before she died.

Before the accident.

The wind came in small gusts now with a frigid bite—warnings of an evening storm that Nate didn’t want to be in. He picked up the pace, hoping the weather would hold for the remaining fifteen minutes he had left to walk.

“Nate.”

The whisper broke through the stalks. Nate froze in his step. He didn’t dare look at the field, but he listened again. Had he just heard his name?

“Nate.”

There it was, much clearer without the footfall. He could feel his skin prickle as though walking through fir trees. His breathing was jagged as he tried and failed to keep it quiet. What should he do? Should he run the rest of the way?

“Nate.”

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Nate, come in here. I’m lonely, Nate.”

The voice was stronger now, and there was no mistaking it.

“Gran?”

“Just step into the corn, Nate. I miss you so much, I just want to see you. Nate, just come in.”

Nate turned slowly to look into the stalks.

Nothing. No movements in the darkness, no shadows out of place.

He took a step toward the edge, squinting. He stood at the very edge of the concrete, his toes just against the border of stone and dirt.

“Gran?”

Silence.

He stood for a moment more, staring into darkness.

After moments of nothing, when he was just about to turn around, he saw something. It was slight, farther back than he could see to make out details. It looked like a ripple of dark cloth.

“Gran?”

“Come here, Nate,” the voice said. Nate took another step, now in the dirt. He could have reached out and touched the stalks at the edge of the field.

“Gran, can you come here?” he asked, his voice shaking again.

“I miss you, Nate. I’ll give you anything you want. Please come closer. Come talk to me.”

Nate took two, slow steps to stand right in front of the field. There was another rustle of movement, this time much closer. Nate could make out a tall, wide figure that looked like it was draped in dark cloth. It wasn’t his grandmother, but its presence radiated as easily as her voice had. It was foreboding, as twisted and dark as the shadows it moved through.

Nate gasped, taking a step backward.

“Where are you going, Nate?” His grandmother’s voice was different now, as though somebody was mimicking her with a twisted, grating growl. It sounded scathing and derisive. “I want to come, too, Nate. I’m so lonely out here.”

Before Nate could turn, a cold settled over his shoulders and knees. He fell to the ground as the wind began to roar, screeching all around him. He tried to yell, but the air was pulled from his lungs and he swore it was replaced with ice. He gasped and gaped from the pain, covering his head as the wind shrieked all around him. He felt pressure buiding up inside his head, feeling it pulsate from the base of his neck to the top of his skull, feeling as though it might be crushed at any moment.

Then, it all stopped. There was nothing but silence.

Nate took a big gulp of air in as he coughed and repeated. He laid on the ground for what felt like the whole night, though it had to be less than half an hour.

Slowly, he stood to his feet, pushing himself up with his hands. He took one shaking step to the road. Then another. Then another. Finally, he was back on the concrete.

And then, Nate ran. He ran as fast as he could, past the towers of stalks, over rough potholes that slowed him down when he tripped. It never stopped him, though. He would jump right back to his feet and run again, sprinting despite the pain of breathing in. He felt small pitter patters of raindrops hit his hair, his hands, but he never stopped. He ran as fast as he could, past neighbors’ houses, past intersections, until he saw his porch. He stopped only to open the gate, made his way across the large front yard, and then threw the front door open, running up the stairs to his room. He slapped the light switch on his way to his bed, where he pulled the covers over his head, shaking.

Once his adrenaline faded, he felt every stitch in his sides from his run. His legs shook and his mind swam, trying to make sense of what had happened out there.

He had heard her. He clearly heard his grandmother’s voice. Was she trapped out there? Or did that thing pretend to be her the whole time?

A knock from his door made him jump.

“Nate, is that you?”

Nate didn’t come out from under his covers. It sounded like his mother, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was the thing from the corn again?

“Nate?”

“Yeah,” Nate said weakly.

“Did you give your grandpa his food?”

“Yeah, he ate.”

There was silence on the other side.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. Just really tired.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He heard footsteps fading away from his door. It seemed like his real mother. But, then again, the voice between the stalks seemed like his real grandmother. Had the thing followed him? Was it waiting for him to come out of the room?

He tried to sleep that night, but just as he would doze off, he would hear that voice, his grandmother’s voice.

“I’m so lonely, Nate. Please come in here.”

***

The days were quieter after Nate saw the thing in the corn. No new voices spoke to him from the darkness. Nothing rustled the leaves of the stalks when he walked to his grandfather’s house. Whatever had happened that night, the event seemed to be done.

What Nate couldn’t see was that he was also quieter. He rarely slept through the night, jumping at every noise. He felt a heavy feeling in his stomach as he waited for something terrible to happen, and it made him nauseous to even consider eating more than a few bites of food.

“Are you okay?” his parents repeatedly asked. Nate assured him that he was, but they weren’t convinced. Doctor’s visits, x-rays, and constant phone calls and muttering filled the days after the thing in the corn.

Eventually, it was decided that Nate was showing the early stages of depression. This was an unthinkable taboo in their small town; how would his teachers react? His pastor? His friends? He wanted to tell everybody what he heard and what he saw, but would they believe him? Or would they just think that he was even crazier? They may even want to put him on medication.

In the end, the doctor suggested that Nate should take up more physical activities with people he was comfortable with. His parents believed that staying with his grandfather and helping him prepare the house to paint might be helpful.

As he was packing some clothes into his duffle bag, he heard a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” his mother asked.

“Sure,” Nate said, looking for the oldest, dirtiest shirts he could find to help clean in.

His mother entered his room and watched him for a moment. He felt her eyes following his steps, his hand movements.

“Nate, you would tell me if there was something on your mind, right?”

It wasn’t really a question. Nate’s mother had a way of sounding polite and insistent at the same time.

“Yeah, Mom,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “Like I said, I dunno, I’ve just felt a little weird lately. It’s probably just stress, you know?”

“Nate, look at me.”

Nate took a breath and turned around. His mother watched him again, that kind-but-firm look, as though she were penetrating his eyes and saw straight into his brain. “Please tell me what’s going on,” she said, the calm tone dragged down by a hint of desperation.

Nate watched his mom as he shuffled a little, unsure of what to do. Part of him wanted to tell her everything that happened. But the last thing he wanted was to be branded as crazy by everybody else.

“Mom, if I asked you something, you would tell me the truth, right?”

Her brow furrowed in bemused curiosity. “Of course.”

Nate took a deep, steadying breath. “Mom, what…happened to Gran? I mean, people keep saying it was an accident, but how did she get in the middle of the cornfield accidentally?”

There was a falter in his mother’s stern gaze. She pressed her lips together tightly, her fingers tugging at her sweater a little.

“I told you, Nate, you don’t need to know—”

“You said you’d tell me the truth, Mom.”

His mother looked down at the floor and sighed, sitting on the bed.

“Gran was walking back home when we got a call from your grandpa that night that she never turned up. We went driving down that road and couldn’t find her. We called the sheriff’s office and asked if they could wake up Jennison to see if she had somehow fallen into his corn where we couldn’t find her. But you know how nervous Jennison makes them. They told us to call back in the morning if she didn’t show up.”

“So…Gran was out there alone in the field?” Nate asked, his legs feeling weak, thinking of how she must have felt. She must have been frightened.

Frightened and lonely.

His mother nodded. “We called the next day and, sure enough, they found her in the middle of the field. She was covered—well, she looked bad, but there wasn’t a mark on her.”

“Mom, what happened,” Nate asked, tears welling in his eyes as desperation grabbed his breath from his throat.

“They…never could tell us, Nate,” his mother said, looking at him sadly. “They just said it was an accident.”

“Did they talk to Jennison? Did they think he did anything?”

“No,” his mother said. “I mean—” she looked up and took a deep breath. “Yes, they did talk to him, but they didn’t stay long, and they just said that they couldn’t find any evidence that he did anything.”

Nate couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that his mother was content with the story they gave her. His lips moved soundlessly, trying to tell his mother that she was wrong, that somebody…something…had trapped his grandmother in the corn.

“It’s time to go,” his mother said, trying to snap cheeriness into her voice. “You’ve got everything? Your toothbrush? Socks? Underwear?”

“Mom,” Nate said, dragging out the word, “yes.”

His mother stood and gently pushed against the back of his head, ushering him to the door.

Nate knew there was much more to the story than his mother was telling him. Maybe more than she knew. He knew he needed to find out the truth. This meant that he had to investigate for himself. He had to go out there.

He had to go into the stalks.

***

Three days after Nate arrived at his grandfather’s, he had been tasked with helping to scrape the old, peeling paint off the porch. The task was demanding, but it was simple enough to talk and work at the same time after he found his flow. He and his grandpa talked about all the new goings on, from Andy’s missing work at the mechanic shop again to Isabella’s new friend from out-of-town coming by her fabric shop all the time. As in a town like this, it seemed nobody could keep a secret very long.

Nobody, Nate thought, except for one person.

“Grandpa, why are the police afraid of Jennison?” Nate asked, scraping paint off a particularly obstructive knot near the window.

His grandfather scoffed as he slid the scraper along the railing. “Kiddo, I’ve known Jennison since we were schoolboys. He’s always been an odd bird, you know? A lot of people sorta looked up to his family as some of the original settlers here in town, but the family also isn’t known for being communal and neighborly. Plus, the rumors that have been slung around here sure don’t help ease the nerves of young officers.”

“Rumors?” Nate said, stopping his scraping momentarily to look up, “how come I’ve never heard of any rumors?”

“Don’t know, you’re a pretty big gossiping goose in this town,” his grandpa said, laughing. After he settled a bit, he said, “rumor has it they’re into some strange things. Selling souls and blasphemy kind of things. Supposedly started way back when they got acres of worthless land and somehow made it useful.”

“Their land was worthless?”

“That’s the story,” his grandpa said, moving down the rail with smoother scrapes than Nate was capable of. “Mind you, I wasn’t born yet. Shocking, I know, but there was a time before my time. The story goes that when they came here, the other settlers already mistrusted the original Jennisons. They gave them a ‘generous’ acreage in dead, barren land, hoping they would continue onward and leave. Well, after the first season, a terrible plague hit the other farms. Everybody’s crops rotted on their grounds. The Jennisons, however, grew some of the most bountiful crops any of those more experienced farmers had ever seen.”

Nate looked down at the pale, dead wood of the porch. Dead land didn’t produce live crops, much less bountiful ones.

“Do you know what kind of stuff they were supposed to be doing, Grandpa?”

His grandpa gave one last big scrape and turned around to lean against the rail and watch Nate’s work. “Don’t know much. Had something to do with a bucket of goat’s blood and a missing woman. Paul Fellin said the whole thing was hogwash and that there were documents proving that the woman in question was found and cause of death was determined to be exposure. Lots of people still doubt it, though.”

Along with being the owner of the largest reality firm in town, Paul was also the town historian. He held degrees in both anthropology and historical preservation, and few people every doubted his expertise. If “lots of people” doubted his word, there was definitely some detail missing.

“Look, you don’t worry about Jennison, okay? You stay out of that field and mind yourself around it.”

He could hear the shake in his grandpa’s voice. Nate looked up and saw the darkness clouding again. The darkness that would take his beloved grandfather away and replace him with something different—something scarier.

Nate cleared his throat. “Did you hear about the little Owens girl?”

His grandpa was silent for a moment more, then the darkness lifted again and light came back into his eyes.

“They find her down by the lake again?”

“Yep. She said that she was watching people dance.”

“That dear duckling of ours is a strange one, that’s for sure.”

***

The day moved quickly for Nate. By supper, he could barely lift his arms or keep his eyes open, occasionally nodding off midway through his pork chop.

“Nothing like a nice, long work day to make you appreciate your bed,” his grandpa said, stretching as he stood from the table. He grabbed Nate’s plate of half-eaten food and took it to the counter. “You go on upstairs and sleep. I’ll cover this up for tomorrow’s lunch and we won’t let your parents know that you ate about three bites of dinner.”

Nate only had the strength and awareness to mumble, “thanks.” He slid from his chair and walked up the creaking wooden stairs to his room. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was drifting off. He slowly floated away from the outside world, into the softness of a happy dream. He was running with his friends through the corn again, laughing and yelling, weaving expertly in and out of the stalks.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

He was racing them to the middle of the field. They had never gotten that far, and he was determined to be the first one to reach it.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

It was a warm day, the heat soaking into his skin as he ran. The other boys were floundering with the big stalks behind him. This was easy for him. There was no boy in the whole county with his speed or agility.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address.

A breeze shuffled through the leaves of the corn, his friends’ laughter slowly fading behind him. He was going to win for sure.

Nate.

The air seemed to cool as the breeze moved across his skin like a breath from somebody looking over him, just out of sight, beyond the stalks. He must have been deeper into the field than he had ever gone. Shadows started to grow all around him.

Nate. Come here, Nate.

The air was crisp now. The shadows stretched further, overtaking the spaces between the stalks. The leaves grew more dense around him.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

Ahead, he saw a shape in the clear row. It was huddled in a mass, pale and covered in a ratty cloth.

He wanted to stop. He wanted to run back to his friends, but his feet carried him faster to the shape. Everything around him was black, now, except for nearby stalks and the shape, which started to stir.

Nate, stay here. Stay with your gran, Nate.

He saw the shape straighten up and was too terrified to scream. Clammy pale skin made his grandmother seem more like a movie prop than a person. As she lifted her head and her bloody, matted hair fell from her face, her white, dead eyes met his.

Why don’t you ever trust corn with your address?

Because corn stalks.

Nate tried to scream. He put his arms in front of his face, trying to shield himself from the shadow of the figure that was once his grandmother as she started walking toward where he was running.

I’m so lonely, Nate.

***

Nate woke with a sharp gasp. He panted and huffed as though he had just run a marathon. He was shaking all over as the images of his grandmother started slowly to fade from his memory.

Darkness had fallen outside. He looked at his phone. 2:38 a.m. His grandfather would be fast asleep. Now was the best time to investigate. Nate pulled out the black nylon backpack from the closet and pulled out his flashlight. He quietly dressed, lacing up the work boots he packed for the yard work and grabbing his jacket more for the feeling of comfort and security than for warmth.

Quietly, Nate crept down the stairs, freezing with every creak. When he reached the bottom, he stopped. He stared at the door, so close, and so easy to exit. He knew he was breaking his mother’s rule. He knew he was dismissing his grandfather’s warning.

But he had to know. He had to know the truth.

Nate walked across the living room and opened the door. He stepped out into the night air, warm and still in the darkness. In the moonlight, he saw the road ahead of him. Beyond that, the large stalks loomed into the black sky, their depths hoarding a darkness that seemed ethereal and limitless. He trudged across the yard, taking deep breaths. He stepped to the edge of the road. His heart quickened, and he felt a shiver creep across his skin despite the warmth of the night. His right hand started to sweat around the smooth metal of the flashlight as he peered into the shadows between the leaves of the stalks.

Was that movement that he saw?

Nate walked across the road, stopping just at the spot where gravel met dirt.

Through the night symphony of crickets, he heard the breeze blow.The stalks rustled with a small sigh. It was as if the entire field was slowly waking up. He could sense, rather than see, something deep within the darkness between the massive reeds of stalk and leaf. But there was no voice.

Was it waiting for him? Did it know he intended to walk inside, into the darkness?

He took a breath, then a step onto the dirt.

Nothing.

He took another step.

Nothing.

Soon, he was at the edge of the field, within fingertips’ reach of the first stalk.

Nothing.

Though the field and air and night stayed silent and still, Nate didn’t feel reassured. There was a nagging in the pit of his stomach, as though he was walking close to an angry rattler just out of his sight in the darkness; one that he couldn’t see, but could see him very well.

Nate flicked the switch on his flashlight and stepped into the corn.

The surrounding darkness seemed to conform to his body like water as he moved. Yet, the night stayed silent and still. He began meandering through the stalks, hearing nothing but his own footfall.

He walked deeper and deeper into the field, as though following an invisible trail. Occasionally, he would rip a leaf to mark his way.

Soon, the crickets’ song faded, as though before a major storm. The hairs on the back of Nate’s neck rose as he heard a new sound. It sounded as if there was another set of footsteps falling with his own.

Nate’s hands trembled as he wheeled around in all directions, shining the light into patches of deep shadow. The light bounced only feet in front of him, as though hitting a wall in the darkness.

“Is somebody there?”

He noticed his voice didn’t echo. The darkness felt closer, almost suffocating.

“Nate,” a raspy voice called out.

“Who are you?”

“Nate.”

His entire body froze. He tried to back up, but he wasn’t able to move his foot.

Come on, he thought to himself, willing his feet to take him out of the corn.

Finally, they moved—but slowly propelled him forward.

Nate’s breathing went jagged as he felt his heart beating in his throat. He felt as though a giant, invisible hand was grasping him by the shoulder and pushing with otherworldly strength.

“Help!” Nate screamed, knowing deep down that nobody could hear him. “Help me! Help!”

“Nate…they’ll never know you’re gone, Nate. They’ll forget you were ever alive.”

Nate tried to fight, not wanting to know what this meant. He tried to get away from the force.

But then the blackness surrounded him completely, and everything was silent.

***

When Nate awoke, he found he was bound tightly to something hard behind him. It took him a moment to remember where he was or what had happened. Once the memory slowly drifted back into his mind, he began to struggle and scream.

“You’re awake,” he heard a familiar voice. “Good. He hates when they sleep through the whole thing.”

Nate craned his neck as far as he could, but not seeing the figure didn’t matter; he knew Jennison’s voice after all the times the old man yelled at him for playing in the corn.

“Please,” Nate whimpered through tears. “Please let me go.”

“No can do,” Jennison said, and Nate could tell he sincerely felt some sort of regret. “There’s a pact here that has to be fulfilled. It’s an inheritance that I didn’t get to choose, but it is what it is.”

“No, no, whatever—” Nate gasped for air as his chest constricted with fear, “—whatever it is, you don’t have to do it. Please, let me go. My grandpa already lost my gran, and if he loses me too—”

“Yeah,” Jennison said, sadly, now moving to stand in front of Nate. The farmer was wearing something that looked more like a priest’s attire than farm wear. A black, long sleeve shirt was tucked in to black pants that fell just over black shoes.

“Yeah, your grandmother. Look, I’m really sorry about that whole thing. She came in here looking for her son, and he found her, and….”

Jennison trailed off and shuddered. Nate felt a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. “What? What do you mean, ‘he found her?’ Why was she looking for my dad out here?”

Jennison sighed, rubbing his face. “Not your dad. The one that she lost. The one your grandpa…well, the one that barely made it to adulthood. She probably missed him so much. Probably heard his voice in the corn. They always hear a voice in the corn. Bet you did, too, didn’t you?”

There was a soft breeze blowing. Nate thought he could smell something faint but sharp, like rotten fruit. He struggled against the binds. “Please, please, I won’t tell anybody about this, please let me go back home.”

“Sorry, boy,” the farmer said. “Sorry, but I can’t. My family made a deal with him a long time ago. He’d take care of us, he’d look out for us like nobody ever had before. The Jennisons weren’t a noble group, you see. When we came here, we had a reputation of being thieves, drunkards and liars. They didn’t like us here. But he did. He’s been here forever, and he wanted to help us. He wanted to make sure we survived, that we were dressed and fed. All we had to do in return was feed him.”

“Who is he?” Nate asked in a shaking voice.

Jennison shrugged. “He never told us. We just know that he was here in this land before anybody existed. He won’t leave, either. He does feed, but he isn’t cruel, you know. Oh, no, your family will never know that you even existed, if they just don’t fight too much. Your grandmother fought to keep her memories. Your grandfather did better, but from what I heard in town, people say he’s ‘losing his memory.’”

“Please just let me out,” Nate pleaded again, struggling with futility against the binds.

“That’s a real irony, isn’t it, though? He’s not losing his memory, he’s gaining it back. He’s remembering things like they were before. I imagine he remembers how his son died. How drunk he was when your granddad kicked him out of the house for fighting. That kid always loved speed. Always had to be running or skateboarding or hauling down an old road that he thought was safe.”

“None of this is true,” Nate said in a weak voice. “It isn’t true.”

“Oh, it’s true. If your uncle wouldn’t have been out that night, he would probably be alive. But he crashed into a ditch, right into my corn, and took off running. He ran in here to get far away from your grandfather and, well, he did, alright. My friend was hungry. But my friend did a good thing for your family; he made them forget. Everybody but your grandmother, that is.”

The wind began to pick up, the rotting smell was stronger, making Nate’s stomach turn.

“No, no, please,” Nate begged, “please don’t do this.”

“Sorry, kiddo,” Jennison said again. He walked behind Nate and grunted as he picked something up. He returned into view with a dark, silver washtub filled with an inky liquid. For a second, Nate had no idea what it could be, until the metallic smell rose above the smell of rot and the moonlight hit it just right, highlighting the red.

Blood.

“Oh, come, ancient one, in your sacred field, I offer you this meal so you may protect our family from the adversity and cruelty of the world outside.”

“No!” Nate screamed, frantically struggling with the binds. It was useless; in one, swift motion, Jennison hoisted the wash bin up and tipped it over, pouring it over Nate’s head. He screamed as the thick liquid coated him from his head to his hands, even dripping onto his shoes. The rotten smell had grown stronger, and Nate could hear something that sounded like a long, unending growl in the wind.

Then he saw it, in the long black cloak as it emerged from the stalks. He couldn’t see its face, but its decayed hand was a pale, oozing green against the dark green stalk. The growl was now in Nate’s head, followed by that twisted, rumbling voice that mimicked his grandmother.

“I’m so lonely, Nate. I’m so—”

“Nate! NATE!”

Nate wheeled his head around as something came crashing through the stalks. He saw his grandfather panting and huffing, stopping to take in the scene.

“Let him go! You let him go, Jennison, you hear me?”

“I can’t! I can’t, he has to feed. He has to eat. It isn’t just my field, don’t you get it. If he can’t eat here, he’ll go out looking.”

The creature moved closer to Nate, extending a decrepid hand toward him. Nate felt his stomach try to force out its contents and his blood turn to ice.

“Jennison, he’s a boy. Let him go! You can’t—”

“He needs to feed!” Jennison repeated, more frantic. “And you should go. Go and for the love of God, forget everything when you have the chance to! I would take that if I could. You don’t understand the luxury you have.”

The fingers brushed Nate’s neck as the dark abyss just under the hood loomed over Nate. He could no longer beg, he could no longer scream. He resigned himself to his end. He felt his energy—his very life—begin to leave his body.

“Then take me!” his grandfather snapped. “You let the boy live the rest of his life and you can gladly have me!”

The creature’s grip loosened a little. Nate wanted to protest, but he was too tired, too weak.

“My friend, this is a good deal. We can leave the boy and you can have the husband and father of your previous meals.”

No, Nate thought, but darkness had begun to overtake him. He fought against it, watching the creature round on his grandfather, watching it grab his throat and watching his grandfather’s body slowly go limp. Nate fought against the darkness until he saw his grandfather crumple to the ground like an empty husk.

Then he saw nothing more as the darkness won.

***

It was a warm summer during corn season. The long, stalks at their greenest, just before the farmer would plow at the end of the month. Nate ran around his father easily as he made a beeline for the hoop above the garage. The ball went up and cleared the rim without so much as a tap against the metal, making that satisfying swish sound as it fell back to the ground.

“Holy cow, kid, those practices are turning you into a pro! Hope you get scouted soon.”

“You and me both, dad,” Nate said, looking out past the houses across from him, into the fields of corn as he sat down on the ground to catch his breath. Those fields filled him with a wave of emotions that he didn’t understand. One feeling stood out, though.

Loneliness.

“Hey dad?” he said. “Why don’t you ever give corn your address?”

His dad tensed a little and looked down at Nate with an odd expression of shock and confusion. “Why don’t you?”

“Because corn stalks,” Nate said. The words didn’t seem funny, though. They seemed dark—almost foreboding. Corn stalks.

“Where did you hear that from?”

Nate shrugged, looking at his dad. “I don’t know. I just thought of it, I guess.”

His dad gave a soft laugh. “Your grandpa used to tell that joke over and over when I was your age.”

“Really?” Nate asked.

“Yeah. I thought he made it up. Don’t know how you know it, with him dying before you were born.”

Something about the sentence seemed off. Nate had no memory of his grandfather, but he always felt connected to him, like he had known him a long time ago, as a different person.

But something about his grandfather also filled him with sadness and fear.

“Come on,” his dad said, breaking his thoughts. “We need to get in before your mom throws our dinner away.”

Nate stood up and started to follow his father into the house. Before entering, he stopped and looked back out into the corn, feeling a chill run down his spine.

Because corn stalks.

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