“Never. Kill.” The Wooden Man said.

He held up the knife by the tip of the blade, letting me me it glint evilly against the white moonlight. I then watched in awe as the wooden handle slowly stretched over the blade and formed a wooden block the size of the knife, with The Wooden Man dropping the block.

“W-wait.” I said. “I thought you didn’t talk?”

The Wooden Man gestured towards the crows perched upon his shoulder.

I speak for him The crow said.

The Wooden Man confirmed the crow’s statement with a creaking nod.

“Killing is bad. Don’t.” The crow’s voice changed from his normal high pitched and sneering voice to an almost wooden voice that was clear and seemed as old as time the went along with the wooden man’s creaky mouth moving.

“O-ok.” I said breathlessly.

“Sleep well, Addison.” The Wooden Man said. “Visit me tomorrow.“

I nodded, and watched The Wooden Man walk out the lop-sided door and into the corn field, the crow flies away to perch on the gravestone on top of the hill.