Sarah stepped away from the scarecrow, her heart heavy with the weight of her father's warning. The scarecrow's voice had started to shift—less warm, more… distorted. But before she could ask what was happening, her mother's voice called out from the house.
"I'll be back," Sarah whispered to the scarecrow, her fingers brushing its straw arm before she ran off.
Inside, her mother was struggling with several heavy bags of groceries.
"Please help me with these," she said, breathless.
Sarah quickly assisted, and together they brought everything into the kitchen. The evening passed in gentle warmth—cutting vegetables, stirring pots, the familiar rhythm of family life returning.
But that night, everything changed.
---
That Feeling Again
Later, after Sarah had gone upstairs to rest, her father arrived home. As he reached for the front door, a chill wrapped around him like invisible fingers. His hand froze on the doorknob.
He turned.
The scarecrow was standing in the middle of the farm.
Not facing the field.
Not facing the road.
But facing him.
And worse—dozens of crows perched on its outstretched arms. Their black eyes glinted like shards of night.
His breath caught. He yanked the door open and locked it behind him with shaking hands.
---
You Promised
"Are you okay?" his wife asked, stepping into his arms. She kissed him gently but paused when she noticed his expression.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice flat. "I… I'm calling someone tomorrow. To clear that farm. And get rid of that scarecrow."
"What?" she frowned. "But you said you wouldn't. You promised Sarah—"
"I know what I said," he snapped. "But something's wrong. That thing—it's not just a scarecrow. It's watching me."
His wife softened. "It's your house… but you'll have to tell Sarah yourself."
He nodded.
---
The Announcement
The next morning was Saturday. Sarah came downstairs in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes and greeting her parents.
Her mother smiled and said, "Your father has something to tell you."
Sarah tilted her head, cheerful. "What is it?"
Her father looked at her nervously, then said, "I've been thinking. I want to clear the farm."
Silence.
Sarah stood frozen for five whole minutes. Then she whispered, "But… you promised."
"I know," he sighed. "But think of the good side—there'll be more space. You could play, invite neighbors, maybe even build a pool—"
"No!" she shouted, tears welling up. "Please, Daddy. Don't clear it. Please."
"I said I'm clearing it!" he yelled.
The words slammed into her like a punch. Sarah stared at her father, stunned. He had never yelled at her like that. Ever.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned and ran upstairs, slamming her bedroom door shut.
Her mother turned to him, horrified. "Why would you yell at her like that?!"
---
Sorrow and Shadows
Sarah threw herself onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow. Through the window, she could see the farm—and the scarecrow—still standing.
Her mother knocked, pleading. "Sweetheart, please open the door."
"Go away!" Sarah cried. "Leave me alone!"
Eventually, her mother gave up and returned downstairs.
"Go talk to her," she told her husband. "You need to fix this."
He nodded and went upstairs, knocking gently. "Sarah… please. Listen to me."
A long pause. Then the door creaked open.
They talked for a long time. He apologized, his voice soft and filled with guilt. Eventually, Sarah nodded and agreed to come downstairs.
Her mother pulled her into a hug. "Everything's going to be fine," she whispered.
But Sarah didn't believe her.
And neither did her father.
---
The Beginning of the End
Later that day, after lunch, Sarah slipped outside. She walked to the farm and sat in her usual spot, gazing up at the scarecrow.
"My dad's going to clear the farm," she said softly. "I think… I think I'm going to miss you."
But the scarecrow didn't feel the same.
He wasn't listening.
Something was… off.
Feeling ignored and confused, she went back inside.
---
The Vine
Hours later, the men her father hired arrived. He led them to the farm and gave the order: "Clear everything."
Sarah stayed in her room. She couldn't bear to watch.
The workers destroyed trees, tore through bushes, ripped up roots. They worked until midnight.
One of the men turned to his partner. "I need to pee. Be right back."
He wandered into the middle of the field, stopping near the scarecrow. He unzipped his pants and began to relieve himself.
But when he looked up again…
The scarecrow was gone.
His eyes darted left, right—confused. He turned to shout for his partner.
But before he could, a vine wrapped around his leg and yanked him to the ground.
He gasped, pushing up with trembling arms—only to freeze.
The scarecrow was walking toward him. On two feet. Silent. Slow. Death in every step.
"Help—!" he tried to scream—
But another vine shot forward, plunging deep into his throat.
Silence.
Only the sound of crows cackling in the night.