What Lies In The Corn

What Lies in the Corn

Short Story By: Lys Reese

**2025 Copyright Lys Reese. You do not have permission to repost, sell, submit, alter, or copy this story.

I like to believe in monsters. Ghosts, cryptids, and all a matter of things that go bump in the night. Halloween is my favorite holiday, after all. The thrill of a good haunted house or the chill of a particularly eerie campfire tale - I love it all. Mainly because it’s fun to believe that the world is a lot weirder than we perceive it. That under the monotony of daily life, there is something mystical and wild hiding under our noses. 

It was the summer after high school. An already weird in-between state of life as you move up in the world from teen to adult. I had gotten my first job at a late-night drive-in movie theatre to stow away some money for my first semester in college. It wasn’t very glamorous. I liked the free movies and other girls that worked alongside me, but hated the customers and the way the popcorn smell clung to me every night. I also wasn’t too fond of the 3 a.m. drive home. I lived in rural Indiana with my grandparents at the time, and even just the 20-minute trip through backroads and cornfields could set you on edge. 

Unfortunately, it was on one of these late rides home that left me questioning my creepy interests. 

The drive-in I worked at wasn’t doing great. Being in a small town seemed to do that to many of the small businesses. People often grew up here and then immediately left for bigger cities and bigger opportunities - leaving places to try anything to pull in a cash flow. My boss had decided that leaving the snack stand open throughout the length of the films would keep people coming in for drinks and treats throughout the night. I don’t know if it worked, nor did I particularly care if it did. I did, however, hate that it meant being out so late - but as I only had a month left till college, it wasn’t worth the job search. 

After checking bathrooms one last time and doing a final walk through the kitchen, I waved to the shift manager on my way out. Even at night, the summer humidity made me want to gag and only seemed to intensify the buttery goo-smell emanating from my pores. I desperately blasted the A/C as soon as I got into my truck, letting it take a minute to adjust before making my way out of the exit and onto the empty country highway. 

The start of my journey was always a bit relaxing. No traffic or people to get frustrated by, and the full moon peeking between the clouds gave the night an ethereal quality. As I zoomed past the local shopping center and darkened homes, I finally found my way onto the turn-off. The difference in atmosphere was sometimes very palpable. From an environment of civilian and vibrant lights to the dark silence of farm land and corn fields. 

I kept my pace steady, trying to resist the urge to gun it home. One big downside of living in the middle of nowhere was the roads. Some were just dirt and gravel, while some whined around curves and at points could even narrow into a one-car lane. One mistake and you could find yourself in a nearby ditch. Then, of course, there was the concern of… DEER!

It was out of the cornfield before I could fully register. The full front of the truck made contact, whipping its head and antlers onto the hood while I slammed hard into the airbag. The headache was instant, and when I reached up to cradle my face, I realized the impact had made my nose bleed. As the initial panic faded and I registered the situation, I stifled a whine as I could feel the emotions start to bubble up from my chest. In the years since getting my license, I hadn’t received a ticket, let alone been in any kind of accident. I also hated any idea of being in trouble, and now here I was, truck damaged, face scuffed, deer dead, and stranded alone in the middle of the night. 

I put the car in park and groaned as I reached for my phone on the passenger side. Mid-reach, my body froze as my eyes locked onto something inbetween the corn stalks. There was definitely something in the corn. Even with the shifting light of the cloudy full moon, there was an immovable shadow within its depths, and a glint of an eye peered between the leaves. 

I jolted back in my seat, my head spinning from the pain and movement. Putting my head in my hands, I closed my eyes and waited till I settled - looking up only to find the shadow and its eye gone. I breathed in a deep sigh, trying to calm my nerves and swallow back the panic that was rising again in my veins. It was probably my imagination. There was a chance I had a concussion. And if not, it was probably just another deer. I reached for my phone again and realized that during the commotion, my bag and its contents were all over the passenger side floor. 

Tears stung my eyes as I punched angrily at the airbag, all while cursing the deer that lay unmoving in what was left of my headlights. I unclicked my seat belt and awkwardly laid myself across the seat to start rummaging through the mess on the floor. The alternating shadows made it difficult to see, forcing me to rely on touch. After searching in front, I shifted forward a bit to shove my hand deeper under the seat and eventually touched the cool screen of the phone. But my sigh of relief only lasted a mere second as the sound of moving gravel came from outside the car. 

I froze. Something was being dragged across the road. Was the deer alive? I’d heard deer were hardy animals..but there was too much blood, and I was sure its neck looked all sorts of wrong. My thoughts raced as I quietly listened to the sound turn from gravel to the soft shuffle of grass. Minutes ticked by before I finally dared a peek. 

A puddle of blood pooled in the gravel where the deer was, and from it, a line of red led straight from the road to the ditch and into the shadows of the corn. Hair rose on the back of my neck. A deer running through a field was quite common, so it hadn’t crossed my mind that the deer might not just have been taking a nightly stroll - but was being chased. 

My hands shook as I fumbled to find my grandfather's number and began rapidly scanning every angle of my surroundings as the phone rang. I had never been more thankful that my grandparents were light sleepers than in that moment. A deep, groggy voice came over the speaker, and I launched into my explanation. 

“Stay in the car. I’m calling an ambulance, and I’ll meet you soon with the tow truck.” The sleep was gone and now replaced with worry. 

“I.. I will. Also, I think..I don't think.. I’m alone. The deer…It's gone. Something took it.”

There was a pause on the other line, then a firm, “Do not get out of the car. Not till you see me. Understand?”

“Yes…”

The click of the line brought an uncomfortable silence to the cabin. I just needed to wait. Everything was going to be fine. 

I clutched my phone in my hands and listened closely to the hum of the engine as I stared blankly out the windshield - an attempt at dissociating to keep myself calm. But just past the reach of the remaining headlight, something moved across the road. I blinked, scanning the darkness to catch a glimpse of what I concluded might be the ‘thing’ stalking the area. Did the smell draw in coyotes? Does Indiana have bobcats? As I raked my mind for possible culprits, something lunged from the cornstalks into the driver's side door. 

There was enough force behind the attack that the truck lifted, sending me bouncing from the seat to the floor. I heard shuffling of the gravel outside, and before I could get my bearings, the thing was on the roof. A shrill shriek pierced the air before the barrage of claws against metal rained down above me. The truck rocked from the force of the blows, and I desperately clutched my head against the shrieks it emitted. 

Then it stopped. My breath wavered against the sudden stillness. Then a second blast from the driver's side sent the window shattering - a rotten, sickly smell filled the cabin, and my stomach wrenched. A long, bony arm reached in, ripping the seats to shreds, then clawed at my face and clothes - ripping into the side of my thigh. Franic, I clutched at anything I could use as a weapon when my hand landed on my safety alarm. Raising it above my head, I dug my finger into the call button. A high-pitched alarm blared into the night. The thing screamed in response - then disappeared. 

The minutes that followed felt like an eternity. I lay on the floor for as long as I could. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t risk moving. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want it to come back. 

Finally, I could see the red lights of the flashing tow truck bounce off the grey of the truck’s interior. Relief hit me like a rocket to the chest, and as the tension in my body melted, I dissolved into a puddle of violent sobs. 

The passenger side door creaked open, and I felt warm hands clasp around my face as my grandfather lifted my head in concern. I tried to make out his questions, but I couldn’t hear above my own wails. Finally, he pulled me up from the floor, and he wrapped me in his arms. Out of my tear-filled eyes, I could see the blur of blue lights now mixing with red. The police and ambulance he had called were here. I made it, I was alive.

——

I’m pretty sure I passed out. Or at least I don’t have any memories until I woke up in a hospital bed the day after. It was difficult to tell the officer what transpired in those 10ish minutes, let alone try to wrap my own head around what happened. In the end, they settled on it being a freak bear attack. Bears aren’t particularly known to wander these parts of the state, but it was their only explanation as to the damage to my truck and the fact that the deer I had hit was found dragged and devoured a half mile away. 

Not that I didn’t try to divulge more information. But when I did, I could see it in their eyes that anything more I said was going to be chalked up to the fear and imagination of a young girl being alone on the side of a road in the middle of the night. 

So for decades, I let it go. I only got the courage to tell my story because I found this online forum where others told their own odd experiences. Of course, you don’t have to believe me, but I hope this at least acts as a bit of a warning to keep an eye on what lies in the corn.