This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Lupabeingawolf on 2024-10-20 01:16:03+00:00.

The wind howled outside, making the walls of the old house groan. I sat by the window, staring out at the field where the scarecrow stood. It had been there since the day Olivia and I arrived, after everything fell apart. After our parents died. We were sent to live with Aunt Margaret and Uncle Bill, though they barely seemed to notice us. They stayed in their room most of the time, leaving Olivia and me to fend for ourselves in this creaky, old house. And that scarecrow—it bothered me. Something about it wasn’t right. Its burlap face and straw-stuffed arms were supposed to keep birds away, but it felt like it was watching us instead. Watching me.

I leaned closer to the window, squinting. The scarecrow hadn’t moved an inch since we got here, but every time I looked at it, a chill ran down my spine. Olivia always told me I was being silly, that it was just my imagination. But I knew better. “Why does it look like that?” I whispered, to myself. “It’s just a scarecrow, Grace,” Olivia said from behind me, her voice steady, like she wasn’t scared of anything. She always tried to stay brave for me. “Nothing to be afraid of.” I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I couldn’t look away from it. Its hat drooped over its face, like it was hiding something, and its arms stretched out like they could grab you if you got too close.

As night fell, Olivia and I ate dinner in silence. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Bill hadn’t come out all day. Their bed was made, but they were gone. I didn’t like how the house felt without them—cold, empty, too quiet. “They probably went into town,” Olivia said, trying to keep things normal, though I could hear the doubt in her voice. She didn’t know where they were either.

After dinner, we went up to our room. I lay awake for what felt like hours, listening to the house creak around us. The darkness pressed in, and my mind kept drifting back to that scarecrow. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the window. My heart pounded as I pulled back the curtain, just enough to peek outside. And that’s when I saw it. The scarecrow was gone. I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I scanned the yard, trying to find it. But it wasn’t in the field anymore. It was just… gone. I ran to Olivia’s bed, shaking her awake. “Liv! Wake up!” I hissed. “The scarecrow—it moved!”

Olivia groaned and rubbed her eyes, still half asleep. “What are you talking about?” I pulled her to the window, my hands shaking. “It’s not in the field anymore. It’s gone!” She sighed, but when she looked outside, I could see her face change. The scarecrow was really gone. Olivia’s expression hardened, and I could tell she was trying to stay calm, even though I knew she was scared too.

“We have to lock the doors,” she whispered. She grabbed my hand, and we ran downstairs. My heart was racing as we checked the locks on the front door, then the back. Everything seemed fine—until we reached the kitchen.

The back door was open. And standing in the doorway was the scarecrow.

I couldn’t breathe. My legs felt like jelly, and all I could do was stare. The scarecrow was right there. Its burlap face hung low, its hollow eyes staring at us. It held a large burlap sack in one hand, dragging it across the floor. The sound of the sack scraping against the wood made my skin crawl.

I screamed.

Olivia grabbed my arm. “Grace, run and hide!” I didn’t want to leave her, but I couldn’t move. She pushed me toward the pantry, and I darted inside, closing the door just enough to see through the crack. Olivia stayed behind, facing the scarecrow. My heart pounded in my ears, and I could barely think. I wanted to cry, to scream again, but I had to stay quiet. I had to trust Olivia. “What do you want?” Olivia’s voice trembled as she tried to keep her fear hidden.

The scarecrow didn’t answer. It didn’t speak. It just… moved. Slowly. Towards her. I couldn’t look away. I wanted to run out and help her, but I couldn’t move. The scarecrow raised its arms, and before I could even scream, it lunged at Olivia. “Grace, stay hidden!” she yelled, just before it grabbed her. My heart broke. I couldn’t help her. I watched as the scarecrow shoved her into the burlap sack. Her screams were muffled, her legs kicking, trying to fight. But the scarecrow didn’t stop. It dragged her to the door, pulling her out of the house and into the night.

And then it was gone.

I don’t know how long I stayed in that pantry, shaking, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My sister was gone. Taken. And I didn’t do anything to stop it.

Finally, I crept out, my legs trembling beneath me. The house was too quiet. I felt sick. The back door was still open, the cold night air pouring in. I stepped outside, my body numb. The field stretched out before me, lit by the moon, and there—right in the middle—was the scarecrow.

It was back in its usual spot, standing tall like it had never moved. But something was different. As I got closer, I noticed something hanging from the scarecrow’s arm. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what it was. Olivia’s sweater.

It was tied around the scarecrow’s arm, fluttering in the wind.

The scarecrow had taken her.

And now, it was her.