Morilix07

It was a quiet, cold, windy night in the cornfield I was in with my dog. My father told me to search through the somewhat small yet vast cornfield. My father was always scared of people that weren't us in his field. We both grew up hearing stories of our family members encountering unexplainable shit in forests, old buildings, and that very cornfield my father sent me to search. I remember how my father used to tell me experiences he had in that field. Like seeing the stalks move on their own…

I saw it one night. A shape moving into my kitchen like it was afraid of the fact I saw it. Always I go to the kitchen to see if it's still there in the dark or not. I'm always too slow to catch up to it. By the time I reach the kitchen it's always gone. By the time the shape sees light it's gone. Ducking behind the wall that covers the kitchen like if a neighbor got caught looking at your yard through his hedges.