GHOSTS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE

The fog almost obscured the turn in the road. Coming from between the maples, it was dense and white as a sheet.

"Brrrr....ghostly beings wander these woods!" I make the expected musical sounds, as Ann tools down the street.

"Wanna check out Jaffrey?"  She opens her window. Cigarette smoke out. Ghostly fog in. Fair trade.

"Jaffrey?!" ( Town of our childhoods--all the great aunts and uncles on Mom's side of the family had taken root there. Most worked in the match shop--and like a secret club scattered throughout the town--most had lost at least one finger to "the machines". I always knew we had arrived when I would notice the people with the missing digits...)

"Uncle Chris' camping area got sold, but the new owners are still running it. Town drained the lake, got rid of the snapping turtles and stumps--people swim there now," Ann peels around a tight turn, sending fingers of fog whipping past.

(I still dream of the terrifying outings in the paddle boat--baiting lines with raw bacon--hooking snappers for aunts and second cousins to make into soup. I always felt bad for the turtles, until their razor-edged beaks broke the surface and their beady eyes laid curses on us all...)

"People actually swim there, now..." I shake my head, disbelieving.( I also wonder where the snapping turtles relocated.)

No time to ask.

As we head over the hill , into the center of the town, I spot a group of people, huddled at the base of a streetlamp. Their clothes are mismatched and raggedy. Their hair covered by big hats.

"Early Halloween?" Ann flips her cigarette butt out.

Too fast for me to identify, we approach a light at the corner. Another group of people, equally outlandish in their costuming, appears to be deep in conversation. (There is something weirder than their dress.)

"They aren't moving..." I crane my neck as the light switches.

"Hey, there's more--in front of City Hall--maybe it's a party--" Ann points over her arm.

I strain, focusing, watching for a hint of movement.

"O MY GOD!"

As we drive past City Hall;  a silent, unmoving population greets us--some with arms extended in a frozen wave--others, (including a Nun) simply facing the road.

Ann gives a shudder.

My mouth is wide."Look at their hands!"

Poking out where fingers should be, long strands of straw, clawing at the fog. (Or the fog is clawing at the straw--either way it's a creepfest!)

"They're everywhere--check out the bridge!" Ann slows to a crawl.

I roll down my window.

(The air is moist and cold,but I don't care...)

All along the street front; outside stores; in couples or groups of three and four; some solo, poised clear across the bridge and over the river that splits the town in two; lined up against every fence; every stonewall; under lamps; streetlights; across driveways and parking lot turn-ins: as if the entire town of Jaffrey, New Hampshire has been transformed into scarecrows! Everywhere we look we are greeted with the same sight.

"I don't believe this!" I thump Ann on the arm.

She's too engrossed in the spectacle to even care.

We drive the full length of the town, to the outskirts of Silver Ranch stables. The dummies have taken over the place...

"This is just too, too creepy..." Ann races the engine, does a u-turn, and we head out of town.

The lone Nun seems to wave.

I have now told everyone,in Gardner, about what fills the streets of Jaffrey. I feel like I'm in a real life "Invasion of the Body Snatchers. No one believes me.

  

"I'm telling you--there are at least three hundred scarecrows--not just in a bunch, like outside the Library or the school--I mean everywhere--taking over the town!" 

"Must be some kind of contest--"

"Can't really be that many--you have to be exaggerating--"

"You writers see everything creepier than it really is--come on!"

"Oh, it's just Halloween decorations!" (This last from Mom, whose family used to live there.)

"Do YOU ever remember decorating like that?" I ask her.

"Well, Halloween wasn't such a splashy thing in those days..." Mom smiles, strangely.

Two weeks later, I have rounded up the second "Ann" in my life. I've been informing her of the weirdness just over the state line.

 "Wanna check it out?" she gamely asks.

Of course.

So, once again, I am meandering out of the stunning forest and down the road to Jaffrey.

(It's peak-experience foliage weather: all the reds have blasted away in the storm and left the trees with blazing yellows and psychedlic oranges. I feel like my eyes are on fire...) But this afternoon,

as we head over the hill, into Jaffrey, everything is empty.

"I don't see any scarecrows..." Ann-Marie squints through the mist on the windshield.

(I don't, either.)

But as we move past the Library:  on the very edge of the lawn: I see her!  

(OMG, she's moved!)

"Stop!" I grab Ann-Marie's elbow. "It's the Nun!"

Ann-Marie, ever practical, sudenly has a higher pitch to her voice, "I saw her! I saw her!"

We continue down Main Street,eyes peeled. But they've disappeared. Downtown is deserted.An evacuation? (Yet, the Nun WAS there-- in a different spot, but, she exists.)

"Maybe someone in town can tell us what's going on." 

Ann-Marie pulls into one of four vacant, FREE parking spots, in front of the two stores that seem to be open. (It's worth walking midst zombies just for this experience.)

We bounce out, into the warm rain, and head inside.

An extremely cheery, twenty-something woman (and her lone canary) meet us at the door.

"I'm Jessica--welcome to The Vintage Rose, on Main Street!"

Jessica has a musical voice, lots of energy.She is more than happy to show us her local, sustainable gifts, collectibles and, in case we didn't notice: blossoms. (The air is redolent of, squeaky, hardwood flooring and hand-made paper.)

Ann-Marie and I are politely intrigued. It's a cool gift store--not a tourist trap. (Nary a bottle of maple syrup in sight...) I pick out a candle formed into the shape of a black crow. (Unbeknownst to me, so does Ann-Marie!) All Halloweenie gifts are twenty percent off. (I'm sure we look like a pair of witches--we are sporting Massachusetts plates on the suv, out front...) Finally, I can't stand it anymore. I figure Jessica is as safe as anyone I'm likely to meet ,to ask the Big Question.

"What's up with the scarecrows?" I smile, paying for my candle, "Where did they all go?"

"Ohhhh...we have to take them down after two weeks..." Jessica hands me change, and the lovely gift bag.

"Before Halloween?!" I feel my eyebrows rise.

"Yes..." Jessica sighs, leaning on the counter of Bee products and hand-crafted cards.

"But why BEFORE Halloween?" I push.

She drops her voice,"Well, a couple of years ago, some college students came into town and lit the scarecrows on fire--nobody wants to risk having their business go up like that! You can imagine..." Jessica looks sideways, as if a college student might be lurking,behind the hand-thrown stoneware.

"I CAN imagine," I agree.

"But where do the scarecrows come from,originally?"

Jessica leans forward, conspiratorially,"It's the town's thing...I moved my business here a couple years ago....the town collects old clothes and then, two weeks before Halloween, they haul in bails of  hay from  local farms. For three dollars each, anyone can choose a costume,sticks and straw, and make a scarecrow. They get put up all over town--it's pretty eerie, especially if you come into Jaffrey over the hill." 

"You were right!" Ann-Marie sighs, clearly relieved.

"Tell my friend--about three hundred of them--right?" I hop from one sneaker to the other.

"Three hundred and ten, to be precise. We keep a couple of the best ones up, in the middle of town, by the Library, but for a while, well, you couldn't tell the people from the dummies..." Jessica hands Ann-Marie her purchase.

I make no further comment.