Dawn was sinking into night. The sky was barely light enough to see. I looked over the corn field, lazing idly in my wooden garden chair. Menacing grey clouds hung in the darkening sky. The threatening, but gentle breeze, blew softly through my hair. My eyes fell upon the new scarecrow I had built this morning. It was not until then, when the sun had gone down, that I realized how horrifying the figure could look. It was only a silhouette from my point of view, and yet it was so gnarled.  I could see the black old rag aggressively gusting in the wind. It had its back towards me.

The wind stopped rustling. And it was suddenly quiet. Too quiet. My heart started beating faster. I heard a rustling sound coming from the direction of the scarecrow. I turned my head. Nothing. Then there were more rustling noises. My stomach flipped. All of a sudden, screeches echoed through the silence as a murder of ebony crows arose and flew away. I let out a sigh. I noticed that the scarecrow was facing me; the moonlight fell on the straw hat and casted a dark shadow over its featureless face. Strange. I thought I remembered it facing the left.

I could barely see over my field now. The atmosphere was still awkward; no birds were singing; no cars were driving past. I felt sweat dribbling over my forehead. There was a cracking sound, like a stick breaking. And that's when I realized: the scarecrow was gone. How could it possibly be gone? It can't move, can it?

I jumped out of the wooden chair. A gravitational pull tempted me to go look out of curiosity. I was breathing heavily as I ran to the spot it had stood, with disbelief. But it was as I thought, it was gone. Only a broken stick, that was to represent the spine of the scarecrow was left.

I stood in the small, mowed grass circle where the scarecrow, or whatever it was, had stood. I felt the corn strands towering above me. I felt surrounded. And then I heard the rustling noise again. I tried to reassure myself that it were crows again, but it was different this time. It was coming closer. And closer. I was frozen on the spot. And I could barely see anything.

My heart was palpitating wildly. And then I vaguely saw a skinny, tweaky stick-like hand reaching out of the cluster of corn. It reaching out to me. Longingly and lustfully and sinisterly. How could this scarecrow possibly move?

Without thinking I turned and ran into the corn. I couldn't see my feet and I was sinking in between the green. I ran quicker than my legs could. I know it had no use, but I kept running. There was rustling on my right, but I went to fast to see anything. Rustling was now on my left. I bumped into something hard, but there was a soft cloth covering it. Hesitantly, I looked up. And sky-scrapping above me, was the featureless and blank face. Its glare made me feel tiny and alone. I shivered with fear. And my heart jumped out of my body. It stretched it's long and pointy and wooden fingers to my neck. I felt a sharp razor pain of splinters bursting underneath my skin of my neck. The powerful hand lifted me ever so slowly and my feet slowly began to dangle above the ground. I grasped for air, and twitched my body. It was no use. The black cloak kept blowing in a non-existent wind. I kept gasping for air and every time a little less air entered my nose and the creature's grip tightened. The monstrous thing that held me captive smelt of rotting crops. The empty face seemed to grimace and it turned its head slowly to one side. It was admiring my suffering. My vision was becoming blurrier by the second. And the scarecrow, gave one final squeeze and my lungs failed me as my throat was squished. This wasn't a scarecrow; it was a scare human.