There once lived a scraggly old scarecrow named Gnarl, a fixture in the oldest, eeriest cornfield of Plummerville. Every full moon, tales daring the most adventurous to survive a night spent in his lair circulated around the town.
An intrepid teenager, called Jasper, fed up with the ghostly guff, decided to take the dare on Halloween night. Equipped with a flashlight and an indomitable spirit, he marched into the whispered wilderness, where the lonesome figure of Gnarl stood under the silvery moonlight.
Hours passed in pin-drop silence, until suddently miniscule lights floated towards Gnarl. To Jasper’s surprise, these were not ghostly will-o’-the-wisps but fireflies, illuminating the scarecrow’s straw body, making it twinkle like a Halloween lantern.
Then to everyone’s astonishment, a hearty laughter echoed through the field. It was Jasper! He cried out, “Plummerville, there’s no haunting spirit, but a host, Gnarl, the Luminary of our Halloween Spectacle!”.
The next day, rather than shuddering at the tales of the haunted cornfield, the town celebrated and embraced its shining sentinel, Gnarl. And that my friends, began the tradition of Plummerville’s yearly ‘Cornfield Carnival’ on every Halloween, thanks to a so-called haunted scarecrow.