Deepak had already made up his mind, but the dawn had not yet broken.
Running and hiding were out of the question. It had to stop tonight, whatever had seized Ramlal, whatever the scarecrow had turned into.
He seized the sickle, the candle, and the ancient casket containing the accursed remains. He then poured kerosene from the shed into a jerrycan.
As he stepped outdoors, the mist swirled about his feet, clinging to the ground like a living creature. His heart thumped with resolution rather than dread.
The scarecrow stood still once again as he got closer to the field. In addition to that, Ramlal.
Still.
Awaiting.
Between man and monster, the crimson thread glistened in the dim light.
Now, it appeared thinner but more alive, throbbing subtly like a vein.
"Uncle," Deepak called in a shaky voice. "I apologize if any part of you is still there."
Ramlal remained silent.
Deepak went around spraying kerosene on the parched crops. He trapped Ramlal and the scarecrow in a circle by pouring a ring of fuel around them.
He opened the box after that.
In response to the scarecrow's presence, the ashes within swirled strangely. As like the air itself knew what he was going to do, an odd wind blew across the field.
"I'm going to end this," Deepak muttered.
He struck a match.
Ramlal looked up just then. His eyes flared red, then, for a very short time, returned to normal.
"Deepak, run."
The scarecrow let out a yell.
It was a terrible gurgling sound, like bone and wood crushing together. Tendrils of scarlet thread whirled toward Deepak from within its stitched mouth, which was wide open.
He let the contest fall.
WHOOMPH!
The field caught fire.
Immediately, the kerosene caught. Fire rushed up the scarecrow's legs and across the parched stalks. Pain, not wind, caused its body to writhe.
It let forth a scream.
The red thread withdrew from Ramlal as it broke and ignited in the flames. As though something had been torn from him, he collapsed on the ground, gasping.
Running to him, Deepak covered his face from the escalating flames. "Uncle! Are you able to hear me?
Ramlal's eyes opened. Now clear. Human.
"It's burning."
"The scarecrow?"
"No," moaned Ramlal. "Me."
The red thread around his breast turned black, and the fire danced in his eyes. Smoke escaped from his body.
"No!" Deepak yelled. "Remain with me! I am able to—
But Ramlal gave a feeble shake of his head.
"I can't be saved; I can only stop it for good."
Burning, the scarecrow fell to the ground. A hideous skull wrapped in burnt straw and with a mouth too wide to be human and teeth like splinters was seen beneath the ripped sack covering its face.
It extended its hand in Ramlal's direction.
With a sickle swing, Deepak sliced through the string that held them together.
The scarecrow screamed one more time before bursting in a shower of coals and ash.
The meadow became as bright as the sun.
With a small smile, Ramlal closed his eyes.
"Thank you," he said, taking one last breath.
Then he became still.
Deepak refrained from crying at first. As everything around them was destroyed by the flames, he crouched next to his uncle with his arms firmly wrapped around him. The scarecrow, the evil, and the curse were all reducing to ash.
Finally, the silence ended with it.
In the distant, birds were chirping.
The whispering of the wind had stopped.
For the first time in years, the field felt clean, despite being burned and desolate.
To be continued.....