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The Scarecrow Counts to Twelve

horrorEveryone
5 contributors · 3 paragraphs deep

Wren decides the scarecrow only has power while it stands. So they grab the gas can from the shed and a box of matches. "If you can't point, you can't choose," Wren whispers, and starts climbing the fence with the can sloshing in one hand.

Before Wren can light the match, the wind picks up and snuffs it out. Then the scarecrow's head turns with a slow creak. "Burn me and you take my place," it says. "Someone must point. Someone must count. Choose which one you'll be." Wren freezes, match held in the air.

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Wren drops the match and the gas can in the dirt. "I won't burn you, and I won't count," Wren says. "The deal ends here." The scarecrow stares for a long moment, then sags on its pole, the fight gone out of it. The crows sing again. One by one, lights come on in the eleven empty houses. Nobody else gets pointed at, ever.

AO
Amara Okafor
7 votes · future 1 of 2