Scarecrow

• Kris Pignataro, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

Friday, 13th March

It just stood there, just stood there staring, with a stupid little smirk on its face and a tattered old hat on its head. It wasn’t like your classic scarecrow with the straw coming out off its arms and legs, no; this one looked like it was made of flesh. It was nearly two meters tall, and wore a pair of old rag-like jeans and a shirt that looked like it had been used to clean oil from a car, but the most prominent feature was the scythe-like claw on its left hand, stained red with what could only be blood.
It looked so life-like, at a distance you could have easily mistaken it for another ‘ordinary’ person, hell, I almost thought it was just another farmer tending to his orchids, if id actually been doing anything important I would have just waved and kept going. Fortunately for me I wasn’t in a hurry, I was just wandering around with nothing to do, its big orchid and I figured there would have to be something worth investigating. Damn was I right, it didn’t get much more interesting then this giant figure on a pole.
As I got closer to the scarecrow I realised just how life-like it actually looked, the only thing that gave it away was were the limbs had been stitched together. It was made of meat, I wasn’t sure what kind of meat but I really really hoped it wasn’t human. It wore the classic farmers straw hat on top of its head to hide from the sunlight, the hat seemed like the only thing clean on the entire scarecrow. But the face was the most haunting part; it was covered in a sack that gave the impression of a nose and mouth. It had two eye holes cut into it and from within the holes was a set of pale blue filmed eyes that seemed to follow you as you moved. It just stared at you, just staring, that’s what made it so intimidating, the lack of movement, those lifeless blue eyes that just stared at you, watching... waiting...


The young man picked up the small brown leather bond book and started flipping through the pages. He settled at the last page that had writing on it and began to read.
After a few minutes he decided to find a dry place to sit. He soon found a reasonably dry log to sit on and continue reading the strange book. He flipped the book back to the start, determined to read the whole thing now
He became so absorbed in the diary that he never noticed the wind pick up and leafs start to rustle; never saw the pair of pale blue lifeless eyes watching him from behind a tree; never heard the dull thud of footsteps coming up behind him; he never felt the blade cut though the back of his neck until it was too late.