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The Scarecrow Counts to Twelve
horrorEveryone5 contributors · 5 paragraphs deep
Wren counts the figures. Eleven. Each one matches a family that left. At the bottom of the box is space for a twelfth figure, half carved, with Wren's own face starting to appear in the wood. Wren understands: finish the carving and they're chosen. Snap the box shut and maybe the spell breaks.
Curious, Wren finishes the carving, just to see. The little wooden face becomes their own. The moment it's done, Wren can't move their legs. Straw begins pushing out through their sleeves. The last thing Wren sees as a person is the field, waiting, and the empty pole now standing open for them.
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