The Wooden Man and I were caring for the kittens and their mother as my guard on the scarecrow slowly lifted.

Watch you step, he’ll push you off the loft. the scarecrow cawed laughingly.

To keep my authority, I ignored the crow’s frequent snide jokes and remarks. Nonetheless, I shifted uneasily on my knees. I guess there will always be a part of me that fears The Scarecrow.

“Let’s go outside, I never got to see the rest of the cornfield.” I suggested.

The Wooden Man’s mouth splinted into a creepy smile and nodded as warmly as a poorly made scarecrow could.

We walked outside and as soon as we walked out the barn door, I heard the cocking of a gun and the cold touch of a hollowed metal rod against my temple.

“Don’t move.” Clayton said roughly.

The scarecrow caw/laughed loudly atop the unmarked gravestone, the echoing of his racket across the open landscape made me feel so small and alone.