Corn Man

An annual attraction proves far more sinister than ever before at the Barker Halloween Corn Smash.
Story by Phillip Psutka

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Phillip Psutka

Thank you for joining me in this strange small town in northern Ontario. My name is Phillip Psutka. If this is your first time visiting, I’ll be your guide; if you’re a familiar face, it’s good to have you back. The town embraces newcomers and old friends alike, but be warned: it doesn’t easily let you go. And stay close, for you never know what might be waiting for you around the bend. 

So dim the lamps, settle in; welcome to Dark River.

Barker’s corn field stands on the edge of town like some great sleeping beast, with an adjoining shop that sells all kinds of produce: apples, squash, beans and, of course, corn. Jim Barker has been there all his life – his family owned the business before him and he took it over years ago. “Corn is in my blood,” he would often say and no one would ever think otherwise. While fresh corn wasn’t readily available all year round, the shop would always be stocked with corn bread, canned corn, corn meal, and corn flour.

 In addition to being the primary source of corn for the township, Jim also provided the far greater service of being a sanctuary, for the shop proved a haven for people to gather, catch up, and mingle. As its popularity as a gathering place grew, Jim figured, “Well, why fight the tide?” and started holding themed parties. They started small, but soon grew of their own accord. At Christmas, he would decorate the shop with greenery, ornaments, bows, and a big Christmas tree in the corner by the check-out counter. Betty (of the ever-popular Betty’s Bakery) would pitch in and bring every corn-themed dessert she could come up with: corn pie, corn honey cookies, corn cake with maple frosting … the list went on. People sang carols and one year a small gift exchange began and it has remained a tradition since. 

In the spring, Jim would throw a party once the seeds were in the ground to celebrate the beginning of new life and bless a prosperous season for the crops. Dancing became a necessity the year Tom Biggar brought his fiddle and although there was no formal dance floor, people found space nonetheless; everyone would depart at the end of the evening with big smiles, sore calves, and full hearts. Jim took joy in seeing some of the younger members of the community actually dancing with one another. He’d watch as a young boy would scrunch up his face and squirm a bit before finally getting the courage to ask a girl to dance. More often than not, she would accept and the two of them would stand with arms straight out, like Frankenstein monsters that had collided, and tilt side to side to the music. As the children got older the dancing became more intimate, which inevitably led to a few marriages – something that brought Jim immeasurable pride. “They should call me the matchmaker,” he would joke.

But of all the festive celebrations that he hosted throughout the year there was none that rivalled the Barker Halloween Corn Smash and the main attraction that everyone looked forward to every year was not found inside the shop. Jim’s father had always carved out winding paths throughout their corn field towards the end of October for Jim and his sisters, but it was a modest effort purely for the enjoyment of the immediate family. Jim saw what it could be and turned it into a full-scale operation when he took over. 

He would plan the maze in advance, mapping it out on paper so that he could see the whole creation from above, for it would be different every year. Next, he would measure it to scale before carefully carving out the paths throughout the field, constantly referring back to his diagram for minute corrections. (He learned to do that in one of the first years he attempted it on his own: he took a turn towards what he thought was the centre of the field only to emerge on the west side. That year, there were a number of people that walked out of the maze via his mistake and thought that he had simply made it an easier one. After hearing enough grumblings about how easy it was, he resolved to make the maze as challenging as possible and he delivered on that year after year.) Mapping the maze also proved an essential practice once he got into the thick of it so that he was able to find his own way out. This was, after all, a maze, not a labyrinth; the whole point was to get lost.

He would always walk through himself after completion, making sure that each twist and turn had been translated appropriately. And then, in the last two weeks of October, he would open it up to others.

He never charged the community anything to use it; they would just have to come into his shop and let him know that they were about to attempt it so that he knew who was in there in case they didn’t emerge. But even though some took longer than others, everyone would always emerge eventually. 

Until the Barker Halloween Party the following year, that is. It was the 20th anniversary of the corn maze, and it would be a night that no one there could ever forget.

He had prepared a particularly difficult one that year; he knew this because nearly every person who had attempted it had told him so. Some relished the challenge, others found it irritating, but it was a landmark year for the maze so what would be the sense in making it easy? However, no matter how difficult an endeavour it was to undertake, nothing would compare to the experience of attempting it on the 31st, for the annual Halloween Party was the first and only time each year that anyone could enter the maze in the dark.

Needless to say, lanterns were mandatory; feeling your way through the maze was not an experience that anyone would look forward to. Besides, the shadows thrown upon the stalk walls only heightened the spectral spirit of the season and people didn’t just come to brag about making it out afterwards – they came for the apprehension and excitement of entering in. As each group was required to have at least one lantern between them, Jim always made sure to carve the paths a generous width. Groups were also required – no one was permitted to attempt it solo. The field sat on 40 acres of land, so if you were to get lost in there the solution was not to wander through the walls of the maze for fear of inevitably wandering deeper into the field itself. And who knows where you’d end up.

October 31st crept up on Dark River like a shadow: swiftly and seemingly without notice, for everyone found themselves rushing around for last minute preparations – including Jim. The afternoon found him putting the finishing touches on the shop for the party that evening. 

Luckily, he had his children, Sam and Julie, helping him to ensure that everything would be ready in time. Pumpkins adorned nearly all visible surfaces, cluttered together on counters, tables, and window sills, a kaleidoscope of ominous and hilarious faces. And corn, of course, was everywhere. One of the younger children from the town had even brought in a few hand-made straw witches. “They’re for the party,” she instructed.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I’ll make sure that they don’t get used for any other purpose.”

And before he could blink an eye, 6:00 was upon them and so was the rest of the town. Julie was outside watching the wagons descend. 

“It’s like a fleet of ghosts,” she cried, running back into the shop to warn them, her grin rivalling most of the pumpkins’. 

“As it should be,” thought Jim, and within minutes, the shop went from being nearly empty to packed full of people.

One of the first to arrive was Tom with his fiddle. “Happy Halloween, Jim!” Tom always prepared a mix of music perfect for dancing with some creepy additions thrown in. He was especially adept at mimicking the sound of nails being scraped down a chalkboard, a skill that no one but himself seemed to find enjoyment in. But there were other more favourable imitations he had up his sleeve. He could do a cat meowing, and could even make his violin cackle. The kids loved that one.

The place filled with the sound of laughter, yelling, and the occasional scream as someone would fall prey to one of Jim’s “Boo-by Traps” as he called them, such as putting a scarecrow in the washroom, or putting an actual person in a scarecrow outfit to frighten people as they entered. Sam had whole heartedly volunteered for that position and was taking extreme delight in the gasps he was eliciting. 

And before you know it, the brave ones were venturing outside towards the field, ready to tackle what was the most diabolically difficult maze that Dark River had ever seen. Jim had placed an old moose skull with the antlers removed above the entrance, angled down so that the light from approaching lanterns would catch it, creating deep shadows in the hollows of its eyes. Hanging from it was a painted sign that read: “Enter if you dare.”

It may have been the rumours of how challenging this one was, it may have been the hype of it being the 20th Anniversary, or it may have just been that all three boys were hovering around the mischievous age of 10, but whatever the reason, Nelson, Gregory and Jack slipped away from their families inside and met just outside the entrance to the maze when they were sure that no one was looking.

They had planned this all month and they weren’t about to let a few stupid rules – including the one about all children needing to be accompanied by an adult – get in the way of their Halloween adventure. They were going to make it all the way to the end and back out again through hell or high water. 

“Alright, so like was talked about,” said Nelson. “We—”

“Stick together the whole way through,” said Jack, “and if we run into someone we know we tell them that our parents are right behind us and we keep moving and try to lose them. Yeah, yeah, we got it!”

“Who carries the lantern?” asked Gregory.

“Me,” said Jack.

“Who says you?”

“Me.”

“Well I say I carry it, so I guess that means I carry it, right?” said Gregory.

“Age before beauty, little fry,” said Jack. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to respect your elders?”

“You should watch what comes out of your mouth,” countered Gregory. “I’ve seen your mother kiss you on the lips and you don’t want to make her sick, do you?”

“If we’re talking about things going into—”

“Enough, you too!” said Nelson. “Jack gets the lantern this year; you can have it next year.”

“Come on, let’s get going before someone sees us!” said Jack.  

“Everyone ready?” asked Nelson.

“Ready as a rooster,” said Gregory.

“Three, two, one …” and they entered, Jack leading the way with the lantern, taking care not to get too close to the maze walls.

“I wonder if Jim has anyone in here dressed up and ready to jump out and scare people,” said Gregory.

“Naw,” said Jack, “Sam’s tied up at the door and who else is he going to put in here to jump out at us? Julie? She couldn’t scare a squirrel if she came at it with a paddle.”

“I wouldn’t mind Julie jumping at me,” thought Gregory, but he didn’t say that out loud. 

Being young boys, they were not about to hold hands, but they kept close to one another nonetheless, for it was already quite dark. Evening crept over Dark River earlier and earlier at this time of year and it was already past 7:00, so the lantern was a necessity. 

A long corridor welcomed them into the experience, ending in an abrupt turn to the left, after which they encountered the first split: left or right. They all quickly opted to go right and after a few twists and turns were rewarded with another fork. 

Gregory was in awe. Before this year, he had only ever entered the maze with his family and, being a timid bunch, they had never made it very far before turning back to safety. Not this time, though; he was with adventurers and they were going to make it to the end. 

His excitement and determination heightened his senses and he noticed that there were some paths that were more well-worn than others – the result of 2 weeks’ worth of attempts. Aha! All they had to do at each crossroad was to follow the signs of those before them and he told the other two as much.

“Good idea,” said Nelson.

“Dumb idea,” said Jack. “People took wrong turns because they’re generally stupid and that would literally be us following in the footsteps of stupid people. Also, isn’t that kind of like cheating?”

“It’s not cheating, it’s like trapping,” said Gregory. “Do you think following tracks while hunting is cheating?”

“Yes, because hunting and mazes have so much in common,” said Jack. “It’s all about instincts – we have to feel our way through this thing.” 

“We’ll do a bit of both,” said Nelson.

As they got farther in, they began to lose sense of direction. Nelson had been trying to keep track at every turn which way they were headed to help them work their way to the end – and also back out to the beginning afterwards.

“East … North … West … North.” The tamped down corn crunched underfoot and the lantern bobbed as if it were dancing in the air. The sun was well below the horizon and the moon was peeking over the maze walls, as if to spy on them.

“Why don’t you use the moon?” suggested Gregory when he saw that confused look on Nelson’s face after another left turn, this one resulting in a dead end. 

“How do you think of these things?”

“I do it all the time on our farm,” said Gregory. “It really works.”

“Quiet,” said Jack. “Do you want to get caught?”

“Do you want to get lost?” said Gregory.

“It’s a maze, dummy – that’s the point.”

“And so we should use whatever clues we have,” said Nelson. “If we didn’t have the moon, it wouldn’t be dark out so it would be easier anyway.”

“While you two stargazers keep your eyes on the sky, I’m going to actually look where we’re going. Don’t fall behind or you’re on your own!”

The maze continued its winding course, now curving like a snake around corners so that it was near impossible to keep a sense of direction if not for the moon. They also noticed that the paths to dead ends were getting longer so they found themselves having to backtrack farther, hoping that they remembered where exactly they had turned in the first place. It was now almost pitch black if not for the lantern and the voices of people around them had faded into silence – they were deep into the maze and they were alone. 

“I don’t think we’re going the right way,” said Nelson. “Have you noticed the path is getting narrower?”

“I was just thinking that,” said Gregory. “We should turn back.”

“But we tried all the other options back there and they were all dead ends,” said Jack. “This has to be right.”

“Why does it have to be right?” asked Gregory. “Are you one hundred percent sure that we tried all the other options?”

“Yes, I am. And I’m also not a scaredy-cat like both of you. It’s getting narrower: oooooooo! Probably means we’re nearly there, geniuses.”

“How do you even know when we’ve reach the end?” asked Gregory. 

“Um, it ends,” said Jack. “There’s an end. What kind of question is that?”

“Oh wow, you explained that really well.” said Gregory. “If this is another dead end then I’m heading back. I want to go back to the party.”

“I’m with you,” said Nelson. “This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Be my guests you big babies, but it’s not going to be easy finding your way back in the dark. I’m finishing what I started – I ain’t no quitter.”

“If we go back, we go back together,” said Nelson.

“That’s strange,” said Gregory, pointing straight ahead. They had come around another curve and were facing a long straight section: a corridor that led into darkness. The walls seemed to be pressing in narrower and narrower as if the maze resolved to squeeze any last determination out of the boys. A rush of wind tickled the corn, and Nelson couldn’t help but notice that the stalks on both sides of the path were leaning in as if to swallow them whole.

“I don’t like this,” said Gregory.

“Who’s afraid of the big bad maze,” teased Jack. “Is wittle Gweg afwaid of the mean corn?”

“Shut your mouth!”

“Ooooo, is wittle Gweg upset? He should wun to his muzza!”

 “Say that again, turd-for-brains, and I’ll—”

“Stop it, you guys!” said Nelson. “We’ve come far enough. This is probably the end anyway.”

“Then I’m going to go find out,” said Jack, and began to walk briskly into the darkness leaving Nelson and Gregory behind.

“Jack!” called Nelson. “Get back here! Jack!” 

“If you want me, you have to come get me,” said Jack, and that’s when the lantern blew out and plunged all three of them into a world of darkness.

For a moment, no one moved or said anything, taking in the reality of what just happened. Silenced pressed its void down on them, choking the words from their mouths and leaving them speechless. Gradually, their eyes started to adjust to the darkness as the moon lent them what little light it could and Nelson and Gregory could faintly make out the shape of Jack ahead … and the shape of something else. 

It looked like a man and for a brief moment Nelson thought that one of the adults had come to help them, but as it moved closer fear seized him, for the figure was tall – much too tall to be a man – and it had long arms that hung all the way down to its feet. It swished side-to-side as it moved, those long arms swinging like a charmed snake. And it was moving fast. As it descended upon Jack, the spell finally broke.

  “Behind you!” yelled Nelson just as a cloud passed over the moon, leaving them in total darkness again.

 As they scrambled to try and find their way towards him, feeling the corn walls at their sides for guidance, they heard rustling up ahead as if there was some kind of a struggle. And then the moon came out again and Jack screamed.

 Thank you for listening thus far. In a moment, we’ll step back into the maze, but first, I’d like to let you know that we have new original spooky stories coming every 2 weeks, so please subscribe on Apple Podcasts, iHeartRadio, or wherever you listen to your shows. You can also follow us on Instagram @DarkRiverPodcast, or visit our website at darkriver.ca. And if you know someone else who might like to experience this haunting small town, tell them about Dark River and where they can find it. It’s always welcoming new travelers. Finally, this story is dedicated to my grandmother, Doreen who nurtured my love of storytelling from a young age. Happy Birthday, Grandma. But now, let’s return to the darkness. 

They heard rustling up ahead as if there was some kind of a struggle. And then the moon came out again and Jack screamed.

The figure had Jack tightly in its grip and it was retreating back into the maze, its lanky arms pulling him like a fish on a hook. Nelson and Gregory, though terrified, rushed forward to grab him, but the figure was too fast and whipped Jack around a corner. Both boys bolted around only to see Jack’s foot and screams of terror disappearing around another corner. Just before they rounded the next one, the screaming abruptly stopped and when they tore around the corner they were met by a dead end. There was no opening whatsoever; not so much as a husk disturbed. 

“Jack!” called Nelson, forcing his throat to loosen enough to let out sound. “Jack! Dammit, call back! Jack!”

The only reply was the wind, which had picked up again and was threatening to pull another cloud across the moon.

There was no trace of Jack or the long figure.

“We should get help,” said Nelson.

Gregory, too scared to speak, simply stared at the corn wall until Nelson grabbed him by the arm to pull him away and he shrieked.

Through patches of moonlight they worked their way back through the maze, tentatively peeking around each corner. But the long figure didn’t appear.

A search party was issued immediately upon hearing what had happened, but the boys weren’t allowed to join. They stood stalk still outside the entrance staring into the maze, the moon illuminating the skull overhead. The group searched all night until the sun began to rise, but they found nothing. Jack and the lantern were gone.

That was the last Halloween that Jim ever made the corn maze. After that, no one would approach that field at night. Generations later, parents would tell their kids stories of the Corn Man and how, if they were reckless after dark, he would grab them too in his long embrace. 

And, now and then on an October night when the moon disappears behind a cloud, Jim swears he can see a light bobbing along in the corn field, trying to find its way back home.

This has been a tale from Dark River, with stories and music written and performed by Phillip Psutka. Podcast artwork by Chris Psutka. Co-editor is Lindsay Bellaire. Thank you for stopping by, and Happy Halloween. 

 Copyright © 2020 Phillip Psutka