My Cell Prison

Bob pulled out a simplified weed remover to clean the straw on his mother’s body.

After two exhausting hours, he managed to shave her body clean… However, her mother’s body had become a ‘human cultivation base’; the pores on her entire body were the size of a pinky finger, filled with roots of straw.

It won’t be long before it grows back.

The body is dry and bloodless, as though all the nutrients have been sucked dry by the straw.

As his mother tried to speak, she found her mouth also full of straw, preventing her from verbalizing.

“Mom, you don’t have to suffer anymore, I’ve gathered enough money today! We will leave right now and once we leave the farm, your ‘disease’ will slowly disappear.”

Bob put his mother on the self-made wheelchair, fastening her body with a leather belt to prevent her from falling during the push.

He hurriedly pushed his mother downstairs.

A small passenger and cargo vehicle (pickup truck) filled with gas was parked downstairs.

As Bob tried to transfer his mother to the passenger seat.

Perhaps due to the stimulation of the night, the straw in his mother’s pores started to grow rapidly. Some sharp straw punctured Bob’s back.

Wow…

It merely pierced a bit of skin, not serious.

However, because the straw on his mother was growing at a visible speed, it was difficult for Bob to lift her onto the passenger seat.

Helplessly.

He had no choice but to push his mother into the back of the open cargo hold… he secured the wheelchair with several ropes. Using the cargo transportation method, he decided to take his mother away from the farm.

Returning to the driver’s seat and turning the car key to ignite.

Bob unexpectedly noticed that straw started to grow out of his own backhand… It seemed to be contagious from his mother.

His obstinacy to leave the farm intensified further.

He stepped on the gas, driving along the road he knew best.

It would only take half an hour to leave the farm completely.

While driving, Bob occasionally checked the backpack on the passenger seat, ensuring that it was ‘bloated’.

It was filled with money.

Some of it was the money he earned from the living. Some was the money he scavenged from visiting families of the disappeared – the money of the dead.

He just wanted to leave the farm and live anywhere else in Maine.

Due to the large scale disappearances in Maine, housing prices were terrifyingly low… he had enough money to survive.

Halfway there, he took a glance at the car boot through the rear mirror… only to find that his mother was missing.

Squeak~

He slammed the brakes.

Bob got off the car to check. However, he found his mother, covered in straw, still tied up in the car boot, without any problems.

“Strange… why couldn’t I see her in the rearview mirror just now?”

As Bob returned to the driver’s seat.

He found an additional ‘more sinister’ passenger on the passenger seat, a child of about six years old, dressed in a red cloth and wearing a straw mask, holding a corn lollipop in his hand.

Peculiar.

Bob had experienced too many strange incidents during his time on the farm… He had been preparing for a long time for tonight’s escape plan.

He pulled out a home-made, shortened shotgun from under the steering wheel, aimed at the child and fired!

Bang!

The propulsion force of the shotgun was so powerful that it blasted the child out of the car, peppering the child’s body with tiny steel balls.

“Die, Scarecrow!”

After muttering a curse, Bob stepped on the gas to press on.

Just as he was about ten minutes away from leaving the farm, a terrifying scarecrow that he had never seen before was standing on the road about a hundred meters away, illuminated by the car’s headlights.

About the size of a normal man.

But beneath the straw coat, there was a rusty metal body.

It was standing on the ground with its claw-shaped bent legs digging into the ground…

In its right hand, wrapped in a straw sack, it was holding a terribly gloomy, rusty iron sickle.

The other hand, a deformed arm obtained through stitching, was dragging on the ground.

However, the little boy who was attacked by Bob earlier was sitting on the shoulder of this scary scarecrow, continuing to lick the corn lollipop in his hand.

“I’ll run you over.”

Bob was confident in his newly bought pickup truck. No matter how terrifyingly large the scarecrow was, it was only the size of an ordinary person.

He floored the gas pedal and accelerated to 80 mph.

Just when he was about to hit the scarecrow.

A sharp object sliced through, cutting the car in half… Alongside Bob’s mother in the car boot, both were severed by the cut and straw flew everywhere.

The pickup truck was split into two, and rammed into the cornfield on both sides of the road.

Bob, who had flown out of the driver’s seat, was captured in mid-air by the scarecrow with its stitched arm (made of machinery, pig meat, bird’s eye and external cloth). The claws held his neck tightly causing his mouth to open completely.

The scarecrow’s mouth was also wide open.

Strands of black machine oil soaked straw connected with Bob.

In a short time, it was completely sucked dry… not only its vitality but also Bob’s recent memory.

In that memory, the scarecrow caught glimpses of an interesting group of people, young people who could resist the curse to a large extent, who had entered its territory.

Creak, creak…

The scarecrow moved its rusty body and slowly walked back to the center of the farm.

The child sitting on it continued to lick his lollipop- the child, wearing a straw mask, had thin, threadlike tongues poking out from the cracks in the mask, licking the surface of the lollipop.

“Resident – Sam and its shell, descend!”