31/10/2025
From one of our always reliable workforce coordinator. Gather round and it's quite a tale.
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Hey all. Iโm a workforce coordinator, 20M, been working at the old Miller place for three seasons now. Itโs mostly corn and soybeans, a few cowsโstandard stuff. But the Millers have this... thing. Not a person, but an object. The Scarecrow.
It stands at the far end of the old north field, right by the woods. It's massive, probably eight feet tall, built on a heavy wooden cross, and dressed in a tattered, shapeless brown coat and a wide-brimmed straw hat that permanently casts its face in shadow. The Millers just call it 'Elias'. They say it's been there for generations, and itโs 'part of the land.'
The past week, things have been weird. Every night, around 2 or 3 AM, I've been woken up by this low, rhythmic thump-thump-thump that sounds like heavy canvas flapping, followed by this faint, scraping soundโlike a shovel being dragged over dry dirt. It always comes from the direction of the north field.
Last night, I couldn't take it. I grabbed my flashlight and a rusty sickle (hey, itโs a farm, what else do I have?) and slipped out.
The moon was only a sliver, and the air was thick and cold. As I got closer to the north field, the sounds stopped. Total, dead silence. I swept my flashlight beam across the rows of dried corn stalks, feeling like an idiot.
Then I saw him. Elias.
He was glowing.
Not a bright, electric light, but a faint, internal, sickly orange light, like a dying ember trapped inside a pumpkin. It seemed to be emanating from the inside of his burlap sack head, spilling out the empty holes where eyes and a mouth should be. The light pulsed, slowly, like a huge, silent heartbeat.
I froze, heart hammering. I told myself it was phosphorescence, maybe some weird fungi, or swamp gas. Anything but what it looked like: a huge, silent, burning sentinel.
I took a shaky step back. And thatโs when I heard it.
It wasn't the rhythmic thumping, or the scraping. This was a sound that seemed to travel from the darkest place in the woods, a sound that wasn't meant for human ears.
A howl.
It was long, deep, and chillingโnot like a coyote, not even like a wolf. It had this desperate, guttural quality, like something being torn apart, or maybe something gaining what it lost. It faded slowly, leaving the whole field humming with silence.
I snapped my flashlight back to the scarecrow.
The orange glow was gone. Elias was just a dark, menacing silhouette against the sky. Except...
Except the head wasn't facing the woods anymore. It was turned, slightly, toward me. And on the tattered sleeve of his coat, caught in the sliver of moonlight, I swear I saw something that hadnโt been there before: a single, glistening streak of wet, black mud.
I didn't run. I backed away, slowly, until I was behind the relative safety of the barn. I'm writing this now, sitting in my room, listening to the wind.
But the worst part?
The thump-thump-thump just started again, a lot closer this time. And I think I hear the gate to the yard creaking open.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
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