Sarah finally arrived at school. As always, Trish was waiting at the school gate, waving her hand with a bright smile. Sarah waved back excitedly, and the two girls walked into school together, laughing.
Across the street, Sarah's father sat in his parked car, watching them from a distance. His eyes lingered on his daughter. In his mind, one thought echoed loudly:
"No matter what, I will keep her far, far away from that scarecrow. I can't lose her to an idiot spirit."
After a moment, he started the car and drove off to work.
But even in his office, Sarah's dad couldn't focus. His mind kept drifting, thoughts spiraling. Something inside him screamed that they had to leave that house.
"We either clear the field... or we move. Anywhere. Anywhere but there."
---
Meanwhile, at school, Sarah was assigned a group project — and by luck, Trish was her partner. Sarah beamed and immediately invited Trish to come over to her house to work on the project together. Trish happily agreed.
When school ended, the two girls walked to Sarah's house. Her parents weren't home, but Sarah always carried the spare key. She skillfully unlocked the door and waved Trish in.
"Wow," Trish said, looking around. "You have a really nice place."
"Thanks!" Sarah giggled.
They headed upstairs to gather their materials, but while Sarah was getting the project papers, Trish wandered around the house out of curiosity. She walked past the kitchen... through the back door... and then, she saw it.
The field.
And in the middle of it — the scarecrow.
Trish stood frozen for a moment, then turned and rushed back into the house.
"Sarah!" she called. "Come on, show me the field! That scarecrow is kinda creepy, but cool. I want a better look."
Sarah paused. Her father's voice echoed in her memory:
"Don't go to that field again. Promise me."
Still, Trish kept insisting.
Eventually, Sarah gave in.
"Okay, but just for a little while," she said. "We won't stay long."
They walked together through the tall grass, toward the center of the field where the scarecrow stood, arms stretched out like a silent guardian.
"This is him," Sarah said quietly. "His name is... well, I just call him Scarecrow."
Trish tilted her head. "You named him?"
But before Sarah could answer, the sky shifted.
The clouds thickened.
The wind stilled.
The air changed — heavy, cold, sharp. As if the scarecrow was listening. Watching. Jealous.
Sarah's chest tightened. Something felt wrong.
"Do you feel that?" Trish asked, rubbing her arms. "It's suddenly cold. We should go back inside. It might rain... or worse."
Sarah hesitated. But she nodded. "Yeah... let's go."
They turned and walked quickly back to the house, neither of them speaking, both feeling the same thing.
The field didn't want company.
And the scarecrow didn't want to share.