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One by one, the police cars rolled away, their red-blue lights vanishing into the night. The neighbors lingered only long enough to whisper among themselves, shaking their heads.
"They say she's losing her mind."
"Poor girl, growing up with a mother like that."
But one figure didn't gossip or leave.
The old woman. The same one who had once warned Sarah's father about the scarecrow. She stood in the corner of the street, eyes fixed on the house, silent and watchful. She didn't approach, didn't speak. She only thought, Another family, crumbling under its shadow. Then, with a slow turn, she walked away into the dark.
Sarah didn't notice her. Neither did her mother.
They were too lost in their own storm.
"Mom," Sarah said quietly, "why do you think a scarecrow—a thing that can't even move—could disappear and appear like that?"
Her mother grabbed her shoulders, desperate. "Because I saw it! Sarah, I saw it! I'm not lying. I went into that basement, thinking you were there. I opened the wardrobe. And the man… the one who went missing in the field… his body was inside. His skin was pale, like he'd been dead for days. His chest was ripped open, Sarah. His heart was gone."
Sarah's stomach twisted. She wanted to believe. But her voice came out flat. "Mom… you came home drunk again, didn't you?"
Her mother's voice broke. "Yes. I drank. But that doesn't mean I'm lying! Please, believe me. You're my daughter—if no one else does, you should."
Sarah's eyes stung. "I don't know what to believe. I really don't."
Her mother cupped her face with trembling hands. "You have to. Please. I'm not crazy. I'm not making this up."
"Mom," Sarah whispered, "I think you miss Dad too much. He was always warning us about the scarecrow, always overprotective. I think you're holding on to him so hard you're starting to believe it's real. But it's not. It's just a pile of straw and cloth." She pointed out the window. "Look at it—it's right there."
Her mother shook her head violently. "It wasn't there before!"
"Then why is it standing there now?" Sarah said. "It hasn't moved. It doesn't move. Please, let's just go inside."
Her mother muttered under her breath as they walked back, her eyes darting. "I'm not lying. I'm not lying. I know it moved. I saw it."
Sarah tried not to cry. She guided her mother into her bedroom. "Just rest, Mom. Please."
But her mother wouldn't let her go. She clutched Sarah's arm. "Stay with me. Don't leave me tonight. If that thing comes for you, I'll protect you. I swear I'll protect you."
"Mom, you're scaring me." Sarah's voice cracked. "First you're gone all the time, then you come home drunk, and now this. I don't know how to help you."
Her mother leaned close, her whisper trembling. "The scarecrow… everything about it is wrong. I can see it. Even if no one else can."
Sarah's tears spilled over. "Please stop. I can't take this anymore. Please stop acting like this."
Her mother pulled her into a trembling hug. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do. I just need to protect you."
Sarah cried into her shoulder, exhausted. Her mother stroked her hair, whispering broken apologies.
Eventually, Sarah lay down beside her. Her mother closed her eyes, but Sarah stayed awake, staring into the dark.
Her thoughts circled endlessly. What if Mom is right? What if something really is wrong with the scarecrow?
She turned her head toward the window and stared at it standing motionless in the moonlight.
Still. Silent. Harmless.
But when she finally turned her back…
…the scarecrow shifted its head. Its stitched mouth stretched wider, into a smile too human, too cruel.
And the only one who saw it… was her mother.
"See!" she screamed, pointing with shaking hands. "It smiled! It smiled at me!"
Sarah whipped around, heart pounding—
But the scarecrow was still, its face the same.
"Mom," Sarah whispered, "it didn't move. Look at it. Nothing changed."
Her mother stared, eyes wild, then slowly dropped her hand. The scarecrow stood motionless.
She clutched her head, whispering, "I swear… I swear I saw it…"
Sarah was too exhausted to fight anymore. She just led her mother back to bed, held her close, and cried silently.
But she couldn't shake the question burning in her mind:
Why can't I see what they see? What is wrong with that scarecrow… and why am I blind to it?
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