“Mommy! Mommy!”
For the third time this week, Ava’s piercing cries came from down the hall. I leapt out of bed and stumbled to her room. “Ava? Ava, are you okay?”
“The scarecrow was looking in my window again, Mommy,” she said through sobs.
I sat down on my bed and wrapped my arms around her. “Sssh, it’s okay,” I said in my calm voice, rocking her back and forth.
But inside I was fuming.
We live next to a small family farm. Years ago, when we moved in, it was just a farmstand by the road. Now it’s grown into this kitschy weekend destination, complete with animals, a corn maze, and apple picking. Every Saturday it’s kids shrieking and screaming from 8 AM to 5 PM.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was this year, they put this scarecrow in their corn maze. And it’s honestly completely inappropriate. It’s not some cute fall decoration with hay for hair and a triangle nose. No—this thing looks like it came out of an ‘80s slasher film.
A tattered plaid shirt. Ragged blue jeans. Hay sticking out where its hands and feet should be. And the face… it was pure nightmare fuel. A piece of burlap, with angry eyes cut into the cloth. A grinning mouth that’d been stitched shut with thick twine.
And my little Ava’s window faced the damned thing.
She’d been having nightmares for weeks now. Nightmares that this thing was looking in her window, standing in our backyard, rustling through the corn. First thing tomorrow, I’m going over to Betsy Smithson and giving her a piece of my mind, I thought, as Ava cried into my shoulder. This is not okay.
I’ve put up with all the noise. Put up with the fact that my backyard smells like port-a-potty at a baseball game when the wind blows just right. Put up with the traffic jams in front of my own driveway on weekend mornings.
This is too far.
At 7 AM sharp I marched over there. Even though I was dead tired from the wakeup with Ava. I wound my way through the little farmyard paths until I got to the old farmhouse.
Despite the crazy amounts of money the farm must’ve been bringing in, the farmhouse didn’t look like it was in great shape. White paint peeled off the corners, and the thick glass windows were clouded with dust. I knocked three times, as loud as possible, and a moment later heard footsteps inside.
“Oh, good morning, Emily.” Betsy’s sweet, smiling face poked out of the door. Despite the early hour, her blonde hair was perfectly combed and styled.
“Betsy, listen.” I forced my voice to be polite. “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Of course!” she said, nodding, her blue eyes bright. “What can I do for you?”
“My daughter, Ava, has been having terrible nightmares. About the scarecrow you have hanging up in the corn maze. Do you… think you could take it down, maybe?”
Her expression darkened.
“Emily,” she said, with a soft chuckle, “you know this farm’s all I got. It’s what pays our bills, puts food on the table. After Pete…” she trailed off and coughed. “Let’s just say, we’d be in poverty, if not for the farm. Having six kids isn’t cheap.”
I frowned. “Yes, I know. That’s why I haven’t complained about the noise, the traffic, or the smell. But this scarecrow, I mean, surely it’s not some vital part of the farm? Couldn’t you just take it down, at least for a little while?”
Her blue eyes bored into mine.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
Before I could respond, the door clicked shut.
I stood there on the porch, stunned. While Betsy has been a pain sometimes, I didn’t really expect her to say no to such a modest request. I mean, surely the scarecrow isn’t some huge, critical part of the farm. They just put it up this year, for Pete’s sake!
Pete. My anger melted a little. She has been through a lot. I lingered on the porch for a few seconds more, and then went home.
When Ava got home from school, it was like the nightmare had never happened. She was her usual bouncy self, pulling out her paints and working on her homework. But around bedtime, my anxiety increased.
“Ava. How would you like to sleep in Mommy’s room tonight? And Mommy will sleep in your room?”
She stared at me. “That’s weird,” she said, finally.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”
I was eventually able to persuade her, without any mention of the scarecrow. She was out by eight and I got settled in her unicorn bed, reading on my phone for a while. Around ten I turned out the lights and went to sleep.
Something woke me at 3 AM.
I rolled over in the tiny bed, trying to fall back asleep. I could see why Ava was afraid—it was a pretty grotesque sight out her window. The scarecrow was scary enough in broad daylight, accompanied by the excited shrieks of children. But now… in the quiet of the night, under the full moon… it was absolutely horrifying.
Silver moonlight outlined the body, stuffed to the brim with straw. The arms hung limply at its sides, and the head leaned forward slightly, resting on its chest. The hollow eyes glared out into the darkness. The grin remained, stitched with twine. All around it, the corn stalks swayed in the strong wind, as if bowing down to their master.
I shuddered.
After ten minutes, I still couldn’t fall asleep. I finally got up and walked down the hallway. I checked on Ava; she was sound asleep. I went downstairs, ate a piece of cheese, flicked on the TV for a few minutes.
Then I went back upstairs and settled into bed. I yawned, pulled the covers over myself—and froze.
The scarecrow had moved.
Before, it had been facing the road. Now, it was facing my window.
Fear pounded through me. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. Stop. There’s nothing wrong. It’s really windy out—see? See how the corn is moving like that?
A gust of wind must’ve hit the scarecrow. Turned it a little.
I took a deep breath. Then another.
That’s all that happened.
I probably would’ve stayed up for hours—if not for the fact that I was so tired from Ava’s nightmare last night. My eyelids grew heavy, and despite the fear and the tiny bed, I fell asleep.
That morning I forgot all about the scarecrow. I happily made Ava waffles before school, sprinkling mini chocolate chips into the batter. I packed her backpack and sent her off on the bus. Then I sat at the kitchen table, finishing my coffee before I had to leave for work.
Wait.
What… is that?
Something long and golden in the grass.
I opened the door and walked out into the backyard. The scarecrow stared down at me in the bright sunlight, the corn rustling in the wind. I slowly crouched down to inspect what lay in the grass.
My heart dropped.
It was a piece of straw.