“Don’t move,” mommy whispered.
We stood together in the middle of our cornfield. We had our arms stretched out in a T-pose, resting along poles lashed together like a cross. The same as the poles that held up the scarecrows dotting the field around us. We each held bundles of straw or twigs.
“We’re being scarecrows again?” I asked.
“Yes, again. Shhh…”
As the sun vanished below the horizon, the scarecrows slipped off their poles and crept past, ignoring us as they advanced on our empty house. Last year, when they surprised us, they got daddy.
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