Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the movie or own Norman Reedus. I wish I did…but slavery is illegal.
Pairing: John/ OC maybe eventually.
Summary: After the death of his wife and daughter John Rollins has no idea how to get rid of the cursed scarecrow that is plaguing his farm and his land. He searches for outside help and finds a Hoodoo spell breaker who can help him fix the problem and deal with the trauma that weighs on him and his son.
Reviews and Flames: I do not deal with flames. Period. If you don't have something nice to say don't say anything at all. I will report bad attitudes. This is just for fun…and if its not fun than you don't have to read. On that note I do love reviews though and will continue based on reviews. I try to comment to each review given.
Rating: M for violence, adult situations, themes that may be disturbing.
Themes: Supernatural/ Horror. I will be including some religious themes in this too as to parallel to the movie. Please be aware that I am not a Hoodoo expert but I do and have been doing research on the Hoodoo practices.
Alright everyone this is my Messengers 2 Fic. In this story line only John and his son Michael Survived the assault of the Scarecrow.
Cece Lauren pulled her black pickup truck into the abandon Rollins farm. She frowned at the faded police tape but the place looked pretty much deserted. She wanted to check it out herself with a clean slate before she heard the owner tell her his experience. She wanted to feel the energy without being tainted by his opinion.
She had told May, the owner of the shop and her teacher, that it was a waste of time; that the owner was probably just some crazy person again that had watched too many horror movies and was spending too much time in his fields. Then came the obituary for his wife and daughter slammed on the counter by the old African American woman. After about a week she had found the ones of a banker and another citizen. She didn't have much choice after that.
She parked the truck and pulled up her messenger bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She looked around in the bright sun light for a moment, playing with the beads around her wrist. Closing her eyes she muttered a quick prayer to Saint Barbara and crossed herself. "Okay." She whispered before stepping out and making her way to the barn.
She looked around as she walked, ducking under the police tape. She pushed the strawberry curls away from her eyes and frowned at the blood on the ground.
"Well you're an aggressive thing aren't you…" She murmured, dragging her fingers along the blood smeared ground. It was black by now, seeped into the hay. She let out a breath through her nose and walked over to the croft, picking up an ear of corn and looking at the chunks taken out of it. Aggressive disease and eating. It was trying. It had wanted Mr. Rollins to search out a solution.
He could be lying, her mind nagged at her. It might not be a scarecrow at all. It couldn't be. They were all meant to be gone. It might have been back firing spells or magic. All that death before his family could have been blood magic taking its pound of flesh. She took out her camera and took a picture of the blood on the ground, than of the croft. Then she picked up an ear of the corn and took a picture.
She tossed the ear down and went back towards the house, pausing at the barn door she took a picture of the entire interior. Again she moved under the police tape, looking at the homey country farm house. She stopped when she saw a cross knocked around on the wall. Frowning, she straightened it and continued to look around.
"Normal people." She muttered, shaking her head. There was no damage to the inside of the house. A small blessing. If Rollins was crazy this would be where most of the violence would have taken place. Here and the field.
She leaned against the counter in the kitchen, helping herself to a glass of water while not taking her eyes from the corn field. She took a sip before spitting it into the sink quickly. "What the hell?" She muttered, looking into the foggy glass. "Crow shit? Really?" She muttered. She slammed the glass down into the sink and stormed outside.
Taking the steps two at a time she pushed her way across the yard and into the field. Keeping her hands up, she moved the stalks and ears out of the way. She kept her ears and eyes open for movement or voices. She couldn't hear or see anything but she definitely felt something. It thickened the air and clung to her. She shivered in the hot sun.
"I can feel you." She called out into the rows. She continued her walk towards the center of the field and stopped by the last row of towering corn.
She bit her lip as she looked up at the ominous figure and let out a little breath. "Hi there…I respect your power." She whispered cautiously to the in animate object as she checked one of the healthy looking ears of corn. She peeled back the husks and frowned at the perfect yellow, glowing cornels. "I mean no harm to you." She reached into her bag and took the camera out. "Aren't you pretty?" She asked with a little forced smile, taking the picture.
She cautiously stepped closer, still squinting up at the scarecrow. She looked down at the beam and saw blood caked into the cracks and dried along the grain. She ran her hand along the dried space.
"Old farmer Billy Bob tried to take you down huh?" She asked. "Now why would he go and do a fool thing like that?" She looked up at it. "You gave him everything he wanted didn't you? Ouch!" She winced and sucked on her finger and the splitter that had become embedded into her skin.
She turned sharply as she heard a giggle coming from the field. "Okay…I'm leaving. I'm not going to hurt you." She backed away from the structure, still looking at it with her head cocked to the side and her finger in her mouth.
She slipped through the field, sure not to run and loose herself. Jumping back into her car she gunned the engine and pealed out of the farm. Once she was far enough away from the farm to know that it wasn't coming after her yet she pulled the car over and looked at her finger. The piece of wood was lodged and small drops of blood ozzed out around it. She winced as she sucked it out, tossing the splinter out of the window.
"Fucking curses!" She yelled, slamming her hands on the wheel.
The door to the motel opened slowly. Michael peeked out of the crack at the young woman standing there. She had big green eyes that smiled down at him.
"Hi there." She said to him her friendly slightly Cajun accent funny to the young boy. He opened the door more at the sound of her voice and the friendly smile that graced her pink lips. "What's your name sweetheart?"
"Michael." He told her shyly.
"Michael who is that?" Came a voice from inside. A strong, large hand pulled the door totally open and a pair of blue eyes met hers. "Who are you?" Without waiting for an answer he slung a flask of water at her face.
Cece closed her eyes and leaned to the side, spitting the water out of her face and mouth. "Really?" She asked him. "You called me and then you throw holy water in my face? Is that how people from Oklahoma greet everyone?"
John Rollins frowned. He had spent months trying to find someone who could help. Either they thought that he was crazy or…he thought they were a bit off their rockers. He'd had a few fridge Christian groups come out and try to preform exorcisms and rituals but they were all bogus. Auntie May's House of Herbs shop was the first place that he had called that had actually seemed sane, asking him questions carefully and seeming to know where he came from. The older woman on the phone had been compassionate and kind, telling him that she would send one of her practitioners out…even all the way from Louisiana. "You're from that Voodoo place I called?"
"Hoodoo." She corrected, rubbing her face off. "It's Hoodoo, not Voodoo. There's a big difference. And that depends. Are you John Rollins?"
"Yeah, yeah." He said flustered. "I'm sorry." He rubbed the back of his head before clenching at his son. "We're both still a little bit jumpy I guess. You're just not what I…expected."
She nodded as he let her into the room that they had been living in for the past six months. "You were expecting someone…blacker? Little bit racist Mr. Rollins." She muttered with a chasseur cat like smile, looking around at all of the cheap protective signs he had tried to put up from various books of Christian lore. "Michael is this your dream room?" She asked the boy with a smile. She couldn't help it. She loved kids…she was drawn to make them feel comfortable and protect them. The boy laughed and she turned to bend down to him. "I'm Cecelia…but you can call me Cece."
"You're voice is funny." The boy told her and she laughed, making John feel a little bit more comfortable.
"I bet it is. But I think your voice is the funny one." She stood up and looked at John. "Your charms. They're wrong."
John frowned and looked around, tearing his eyes away from the woman. No, she was not what he had expected. For one, she was right…she wasn't African American. She had porcelain skin and clearly Cajun from the sound of her voice. And she was young…beautiful really if he was allowed to say that, probably in her mid to late 20's with a head of apricot hair so red it lit up the room. It was wavy and wild, like twisting flames, refusing to be tamed.
"I went to your farm today."
John looked at her sharply when she said it. "Maybe we should talk about it outside Cece." He told her glancing at his son.
Cece quirked an eyebrow at him. "After soaking me with holy water, you can call me Cecelia." She told him solidly. John nodded quickly, still nervous. He was a good Christian man…he wasn't sure calling a Voodoo or Hoodoo…witch…person…thing, was the right thing to do. But this thing had killed his wife and daughter. He had to find a way to stop it. He had to protect his son.
"Dad…" Michael said, worried about being left alone. It had been a while since the incident, 6 months at least but they were still jumpy.
Cece caught the fear in his voice right away, glancing at his father. John was not the hick Billy Bob that she had been expecting. He had soft eyes and a sweet face, clearly showing when he looked at his last remaining family member. "Its okay Michael." John said. "We'll just be right outside."
Michael shifted on his feet, sharing his father's nervous energy. Cece smiled at him slightly and opened her bag, pulling out a small pouch with a string on it. "Here Michael." She bent down and put it around his neck. "That's Angelica Root…they say that it's made from angel wings and it protects anyone who wears it from all the bad stuff out there."
Michael picked up the little bag and looked at it, than at her. "Does it work?" He asked.
Cece rubbed his arm before she got up. "Hasn't ever not worked for me. We'll be right outside."
John opened the door and let her slip out before him, watching his son studying the bag. He was thankful for her comfort of his son, even if he didn't believe in it. He shut the door behind them and walked out into the night air with the girl. She pulled herself up to sit on the railing with ease as he leaned his back against it.
"So…Cecelia." John started nervously. "You went to the farm."
Cece nodded at him, watching his face. "Yeah. You definitely have a land curse out there." She told him.
John looked at her sharply. "It's the scarecrow. It killed my family…tried to kill my son."
Cece gave a calm nod. "Look Rollins. Don't take this the wrong way but I don't take people at face value. If you dug up your own shit storm than I am not going to put myself at risk for some sorry ass farmer that was so desperate that they got in bed with the devil. Did you bring this on yourself?"
"What?" He asked her sharply.
Cece sighed and watched him as she played with an old silver cross around her neck. "Did you use black magic to get your luck back up? Could this be just a reaping of the pound of flesh that it's owed?"
John pushed himself away from the railing and looked at her, gritting his teeth. "Look Cece,"
"Cecelia." She corrected him.
John narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sure that you're used to dealing with different kind of people but I am a good man who was trying to protect his family! I put up some scarecrow that I found in the barn and suddenly everything that I loved was dying around me. I don't know what kind of low life's you're used to dealing with but I'm a god fearing man!"
Cece stood up, her eyes looking him up and down. John felt himself bristle under the heated eyes. She might turn him into a toad or something at this rate. He'd learned from Miranda: beautiful, mysterious women were never to be under estimated.
Her eyes darted to the chair by the door with his father's old bible sitting on it. "Apparently not god fearing enough." She finally told him.