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Cornfield Stories

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The Visitant

Who (or what) is in Halston's field?

The call came in over the scanner that sat on the corner of Sheriff Rockwell’s desk. It was a little after 2 AM.  “Tank...this is Sam…you got a copy?” Sheriff Tank Rockwell pushed back in his chair. Thick hands were folded over the perfectly bulbous belly that his wife always said looked like a swallowed watermelon. His eyes were shut and his chest was raising and lowering in the rhythmic pattern of sleep. “Tank..come in…...