Well, they came from all over, not only our small rural community but city slickers too. It seemed everyone wanted to see the Amberley's corn maze. The crowds poured in and kept right on a-coming. Pretty soon, that maze was full to the brim. Laughter and shouting were heard from every corner of it as couples and families attempted to traverse the twists and turns of the maze until suddenly the fun-loving sounds turned to shrieks of horror.

"CROWS!" Al screamed as he ran hellbent for leather toward where momma and daddy were standing on the porch observing the fun. "CROWS!"

It couldn't be! I thought as I raced toward the cornfield. We had all walked the maze that morning to be sure everything was as it should be. There hadn't been a bird in sight.
The sky above that corn maze was black with angry cawing crows. The clamor of the people screaming in terror while birds swooped into the rows of stalks was a sound I would not long forget.

As I stand on the porch looking toward where that field had stood in the days of my youth, I could still hear it resounding in my ears to this day.

Those who were close to the entrance or exit were lucky. They were able to flee to safety unscathed. For the ones who were trapped in the inner portions of that maze, I dread to think of them. Those damn crows were relentless. Thirty people were caught inside, twenty-three never came out. Five were blinded for life while two were left with disfiguring facial injuries. May Belle was found in a dead-end wrapped in the arms of Stanley Morris, one of her favorite beaux. Why she was in a dead-end, we couldn't figure. She knew that maze inside and out. Our dear sister was buried in a closed casket upon daddy's request. Momma declared she wasn't fit to be seen.
That was the end of the Amberley's in Bentley, Kansas. After the fateful day of the corn maze, we were the scourge of our rural neighborhood and the bank took our earnings to pay the mortgage on the old farm. No one could forget; no one wanted us around.