The storm had grown dark, but Trish insisted she had to get home. The clouds were swirling fast, and the wind was howling louder with every second.
"We should finish this tomorrow," she said, packing up her things.
Sarah nodded quickly, walking her to the door. "Be safe, okay?"
Trish gave a half-smile and stepped outside. The moment she left, Sarah stood by the door and watched the clouds roll above her. But only a few minutes later, the sky shifted again — the storm calmed.
Just like that, everything returned to normal.
Sarah's brows furrowed.
It was the second time now — the second time something felt off whenever she brought someone near the field. First her dad, now Trish. It was like the scarecrow didn't like guests. Like it got… angry.
She shivered and closed the door.
Not long after, her parents returned earlier than usual.
"Why are you back already?" Sarah asked, surprised.
Her mom placed a hand on her forehead, her face pale. "I felt strange. Like I was going to throw up. So I came home to check on you."
Her dad chimed in, "We didn't have many clients anyway, so we closed early."
But deep down, it wasn't about the clients at all.
Sarah's father had felt the shift in the sky. Something about that scarecrow didn't sit right with him. He knew something had changed the moment the clouds began to stir. He needed to get back. Fast.
"Since we're all here," Sarah smiled, "can we do a family game night?"
Her mom lit up. "I'd love that!"
Her dad blinked, still lost in his thoughts, then forced a nod. "Yeah, sure. Let's… play."
While Sarah and her mom set up the board games and snacks, her dad stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the distant field. He couldn't shake the feeling that the scarecrow was planning something. Watching them.
"Dad!" Sarah called, snapping him out of his daze. "We're ready!"
He turned and smiled weakly. "Coming."
They played for a while — Sarah kept winning, and her dad kept pretending to care. When bedtime came, Sarah yawned and went up to her room.
Her mom followed after cleaning up.
But her father… stayed back.
He couldn't stop looking outside.
Something was wrong.
The field was there, the grass swaying gently… but the scarecrow — it was gone.
A chill ran through his spine.
He grabbed a flashlight and ran outside, heart pounding. The place where the scarecrow once stood was now an empty hole. Deep. Dark. Like something had pulled itself out.
Then… a whisper echoed in his mind.
"Sarah."
His blood turned cold.
He dashed back into the house, bolting up the stairs to her room. He flung open the door — Sarah was fast asleep.
Breathing peacefully.
Untouched.
Still… he couldn't shake it. He lay down beside her, eyes open, staring into the shadows.
If the scarecrow came… he would protect her.
Eventually, he drifted off.
But in the middle of the night, a noise startled him awake. A rustling sound — distant, but deliberate. He sat up and peered out of Sarah's window.
And there it was.
The scarecrow.
Standing right back in its usual place.
Like it had never moved.
Sarah's father felt a knot twist in his chest. This spirit — whatever it was — it was playing with him. Playing mind games. He didn't know what to believe anymore.
By morning, dark circles had formed beneath his eyes.
"You look like a zombie," Sarah giggled at the breakfast table.
He chuckled weakly and ruffled her hair.
She headed off to school, as always expecting to see Trish waiting at the gate.
But Trish wasn't there.
She waited. And waited.
The bell rang. Students poured into the building. Still, no sign of her best friend.
Worried, Sarah approached her teacher. "Excuse me… did Trish come in today?"
The teacher frowned. "You haven't heard? Trish never made it home yesterday. Her parents already filed a missing person report this morning."
Sarah's heart dropped.
Her mouth went dry. "What…?"
She had walked Trish to the door. She saw her leave. The storm had passed…
So where did Trish go?