The Scary Salad Eater #6
- Lettuce Head
- Sep 12
- 9 min read
Step right up, sinners. The fields are restless, the rows are whispering, and this month we’ve thrown open the barn doors to something new: The Harvest.
Inside, you’ll find visions not just from the Scary Salad crypt, but from fellow fiends who’ve sown their own nightmares in the soil. These pieces sprout teeth, bleed roots, and remind us all that the Harvest doesn’t belong to one hand - it belongs to anyone who dares plant something cursed and watch it grow.
So wander the the fields. Admire the grotesque. Just don’t linger too long in front of the wrong scarecrow - you might feel it lean forward.
Horrorscope: The Harvest
“Every row ripens. Every soul is cut.”
The fields whisper. The crows listen.
Mistress Obsidian has scattered the bones, traced your fate in rotting corn silk, and read the harvest moon.
Now kneel in the dirt… and listen.
Aries – The Bonfire Sacrifice
Your sparks leap too high, Aries, and the Harvesters notice. This month, flames will follow you like loyal dogs, nipping your heels, setting fences alight. Do not dance too close to the scarecrow bonfire—one wrong step and you’ll feed the flames yourself.
Advice: Don’t trust anyone who hands you a lantern. They aren’t giving you light—they’re giving you tinder.
Lucky Number: Six feet under. Lucky Charm: A charred matchbook from a place you swore you’d never return to.
Taurus – The Plump Offering
Every indulgence has swollen you, Taurus, and the fields adore it. You are the feast everyone’s been waiting for—the pumpkin on the porch, fat and glowing, one knife away from ruin. The Harvesters lick their lips when you pass.
Advice: Fast for one night. Taste hunger before hunger tastes you.
Unlucky Date: The night of the Harvest Moon. Lucky Flavor: bitter herbs drowned in vinegar.
Gemini – The Twinned Stalks
The field splits in two, Gemini, just like you. One twin bends, one twin breaks. You’ve been trading secrets with a shadow in the rows—it wears your face but never blinks. By October, one of you will be tied to the post, and one of you will laugh from the dirt.
Advice: Don’t answer when your own voice calls your name.
Lucky Sound: Children singing off-key in the cornfield at midnight.
Cancer – The Husked Child
Your shell cracks, Cancer, and inside something pale and writhing begs to be freed. Don’t peel too soon—the Harvest loves nothing more than premature sweetness. Stay hidden in husks, keep your claws sharp, and never, ever follow the rustling when it comes from inside your own house.
Advice: If you hear chewing behind the walls, leave it alone. It’s chewing you.
Lucky Escape: Sleeping in the bathtub with the lights on.
Leo – The Scarecrow’s Pride
Oh, Leo. Your glow sets the field aflame without fire. The scarecrows wear your face now, stitched into burlap, staring from every row. If you smile back, you’ll never stop. Soon, they’ll be walking beside you, and you’ll forget who’s the original.
Advice: Avoid mirrors at dusk—especially the ones nailed to barns.
Lucky Color: Rust. Lucky Snack: sunflower seeds spat from a stranger’s mouth.
Virgo – The Ordered Furrow
Your tidy rows and measured steps delight the Reaper. You think your careful planning will save you, Virgo. But neat rows are the easiest to reap. This month, something inhuman admires your discipline—it sharpens its blade with your precision.
Advice: Scatter chaos in your own path before someone else does.
Lucky Object: A crooked fencepost. Unlucky Habit: alphabetizing your fears.
Libra – The Balancing Blade
The Harvest loves balance, Libra, but balance means sacrifice. One row thrives, the other rots. You cannot save both. If you hesitate, the blade will swing for all of them—and for you.
Advice: Stop trying to be fair. Fairness is just another word for slaughter.
Lucky Symbol: a crow’s feather split clean down the spine.
Scorpio – The Blood Fertilizer
You bleed, and the earth drinks. You bury secrets in shallow graves, but the Harvest turns them into crops—stalks that whisper every shame. Something writhes underfoot. You call it haunting. The Harvest calls it hunger.
Advice: Don’t touch what sprouts from blood. It remembers too much.
Lucky Drink: rainwater that tastes like pennies
Sagittarius – The Seed-Slinger
Your arrows scatter, Sagittarius, but every seed you fling grows teeth this month. Wander if you must—but know the Harvest follows your footprints. Choose one field, one path, one home. Too much motion will only get you lost in the rows.
Advice: Don’t trust shortcuts. Every one ends in a scarecrow.
Lucky Weapon: A bow strung with twine from a corpse’s pocket.
Capricorn – The Relentless Reaper
You’ve always worked too hard, Capricorn, and this month your ledger is bone. You swing the sickle, sweat dripping, but the row never ends. Someone’s counting your harvest, and it isn’t you. The Reaper’s blade cuts both ways—remember that when you feel safe.
Advice: Don’t look over your shoulder. The one keeping tally is already behind you.
Unlucky Hour: Sunrise, when the fields are quiet but the soil shifts.
Aquarius – The Rainbringer
Your dreams pour into barren soil, Aquarius, and the fields grow strange. You water them with visions, and they return teeth, eyes, and whispers. The Harvest loves your idealism—it makes plucking you easier.
Advice: Never drink the first cup poured for you. It wasn’t water.
Lucky Storm: the one that never breaks.
Pisces – The Drowning Field
You thought the ocean was your grave, Pisces, but this month it’s the cornfields. The stalks sway like waves, and you drown without water. Mud fills your lungs, insects crawl into your mouth, and still you dream of swimming.
Advice: Count the rows before you walk in. If the number changes, don’t go.
Lucky Escape: Waking before you choke.
The Harvest is patient, the crows are full, and the scythes are sharp. Until the soil drinks enough— Mistress Obsidian “Keep your soil bloody and your harvest worse.”
The Harvest Bioluminescent
By Charles Butler
You should be seeing through my eyes, hearing with my ears. In this realm, the senses of touch, taste, and smell are dulled.
When I think of the visions which assailed me upon meeting the Sentinels, I am grateful for this.
I walk toward the light. It is farther away than my last visit, but I can feel its pull internally—an extrasensory perception I cannot translate into mere words.
"The Harvest"- Gallery by Spooky Salad
ARTIST SPOOKY SALAD
Madam Monster. Lady Kreechore. She’s called neither, but hopes to satisfy your AI horror cravings. Spooky Salad was welcomed to the Scary Salad Family last month!
Spooky Salad can be found at:
Find all of our family members by using #scarysaladnetwork across your favorite social media networks!
Creepy Linguine's Cocktail Corner
The Hayride Hex “One sip and the hay bales start whispering your name.”
Welcome back, sinners. September’s here, the nights are longer, and the cornfields are crowded with shadows that look a little too much like you. You need something warm in your veins and wicked on your tongue. Enter: The Hayride Hex — a drink that tastes like autumn wrapped in burlap and tied to a scarecrow pole.
Ingredients (easily found):
● 2 oz bourbon (or spiced rum if you’re feeling rowdy)
● 3 oz apple cider (cloudy, the kind that looks like it came from a haunted orchard)
● 1/2 oz lemon juice
● Ginger beer (to top)
● Garnish: apple slice + a sprinkle of ground cinnamon
Instructions:
Fill a shaker with ice.
Add bourbon, apple cider, and lemon juice. Shake like you’re trying to rattle a ghost loose.
Strain into a tall glass over fresh ice.
Top with ginger beer.
Garnish with an apple slice dusted with cinnamon. Bonus points if you stab it on a corn husk skewer.
Mood Pairing: Light a candle inside a carved turnip, put on a murder ballad, and ride shotgun on a hay wagon that definitely isn’t going back the way it came.
Creepy Linguine Says:
“One glass and you’re cozy by the bonfire.
Two glasses and you’re dancing with the scarecrow.
Three… and you wake up half-buried in the pumpkin patch, married to a stranger who swears they’re your destiny.”
Room Nine
By Patrick Okoi
That night, the voice returned, soft, dry, threading itself through the upstairs hallway. It always came from the same spot: the linen closet.
About the Author:
Patrick tells stories that mix everyday life with a touch of mystery and wonder. His work has been published in Door is a Jar, New Horizon Creatives, Journal of African Youth Literature, Wingless Dreamer, and Chasing Dreams Publishers. He also won the 2021 Writefluence Short Story Competition. Outside writing, he enjoys playing chess and dancing when no one is watching.
Children of the Harvest- Gallery by Horror to Culture
ARTIST MICHAELA. DYER
ARTIST MICHAEL A. DYER
Michael A. Dyer is the host of the HORROR TO CULTURE podcast, vidcast, and website. We were happy to recently welcome him to the Scary Salad Family!
Michael can be found at:
Mr. Manicotti’s Survival Guide
This Month’s Topic: “When the Harvest Comes for YOU”
So the leaves are turning, the air smells like dead leaves and questionable cider, and suddenly—bam—there’s a scarecrow nailed to your front lawn and it’s not yours.
Relax. This is why we prep.
Manicotti’s Steps for Surviving the Harvest:
Don’t Trust Free Produce.
That pumpkin on your porch? Not yours. That bushel of apples “gifted” from your neighbor? Absolutely hexed. Rule of thumb: if it didn’t come sealed in plastic, assume it’s a soul-trap.
Blend In With the Crops.
Wear earth tones. Slouch in rows. If the Harvesters can’t tell you from the corn, you might just make it to morning. Bonus points if you hum like a cicada.
Salt Your Scarecrows.
Everyone’s got a scarecrow somewhere—attic, garage, ex-wife’s garden. Doesn’t matter. Salt it, bless it, stab it with a rusty nail. Otherwise, it’ll come down off that pole and start doing the harvesting for them.
Never Follow the Tractor Lights.
See flickering headlights in the distance? Stay put. It’s never a farmer. It’s always the Reaper’s Uber, and once you get in, the only drop-off is six feet deep.
Keep One Step Weirder.
Harvest cult knocks at your door? Answer wearing a pumpkin on your head and speaking Latin backwards. They’ll think you’re the new boss and back off. Works every time. (…so far.)
Bottom Line? You don’t need a combine harvester and a flamethrower (though I highly recommend both), but a little paranoia, a bag of salt, and a good shovel will keep your soul off the menu until Halloween.
Till next time— Mr. Manicotti Still not compost. Yet.
Creepy Linguine's House of Scream
We welcome Spooky Salad to the Scary Salad family in Creepy Linguine's Debut House of Scream episode:
Salad Siren Centerfold Interview: Cornelia Stitch
Miss September: Cornelia Stitch
● Occupation: Harvest queen, scarecrow seductress, seasonal omen
● Turn-Ons: Full moons, sharpened sickles, men who scream while smiling
● Turn-Offs: Plastic decorations, pumpkin spice lattes, crows who won’t commit
Lettuce Head: “Salad lovers, welcome back to your monthly descent into temptation. Today’s centerfold isn’t flesh and blood—at least not all of it. She’s stuffed, she’s stitched, and she’ll make your nightmares sprout like weeds. Meet Cornelia Stitch—the only scarecrow who could make me consider dying in a field. Cornelia, you look ravishing in burlap.”
Cornelia Stitch: “Thank you, darling. Burlap breathes so well when you’re on fire. And it hugs in all the right places.”
Lettuce Head: “…gulp. So, let’s start easy. Where were you ‘born’?”
Cornelia Stitch: “In a pumpkin patch under a blood moon. They stitched me from the clothes of sinners and the bones of farmhands who asked too many questions. A crow whispered the first breath into me, and I’ve been laughing ever since.”
Lettuce Head: “Romantic. And horrifying. Speaking of—what’s dating like for a scarecrow siren?”
Cornelia Stitch: “Oh, sweet pea… every date ends the same way: tied to a pole, screaming into the night, waiting for the harvesters. I’m not looking for happily-ever-after. I’m looking for happily-ever-screamed.”
Lettuce Head: “…Note to self: cancel dinner plans. What do you do for fun when you’re not, uh, terrifying farmers?”
Cornelia Stitch: “I knit crows little scarves, I sharpen sickles until they sing, and I practice my smile in lightning flashes. Oh—and I love scaring children so badly they grow up to be poets.”
Lettuce Head: “Adorable. Terrifying. Both. Last question—what’s your favorite salad dressing?”
Cornelia Stitch: “Blood vinaigrette. With just a drizzle of scarecrow tears for tang. It’s seasonal.”
Lettuce Head:
“…Of course it is. There you have it, Salad Eaters: Cornelia Stitch, the only woman who makes me want to set myself on fire just to keep her company. If you see her in a cornfield, don’t wave—just start running. Unless you’re into that.”
Ripe for the Picking- Digital Artwork by Kyndal Brooks
A message from the artist: Hello,Boils and Ghouls!
My name is Kyndal Von Doom.
I'm a 22 year old artist who draws everything from Scarecrows to Superheroes!
I've been drawing since I was a little itty bitty kid.
It's always been my passion. I also cosplay, paint and write!
Goosebumps books were my earliest introduction to the horror world - I can remember staying up late at night reading the books and giving myself chills! R.L. Stine is still my favorite author,nobody can do horror like him!
My favorite things to draw are Horror Video Game characters,but I'll draw just about anything!
Check out my page and see what I can make for you!
Amazing