The Scarecrow
Oisín strolled through the garden. The sun pierced his eyes. He saw the scarecrow ahead. Imposing, like it was holding court over the garden. Weeds grew around its feet; its arms were outstretched and its head bowed. The light changed as he got closer, clouds covered the once clear sky. A small robin which was sitting on the scarecrows shoulder flew away suddenly. Oisín walked on, a little more quickly now. The sky rumbled and Oisín focused on getting to the gate ahead. He heard an unsettling grinding sound. Was someone following him? He turned nervously; the scarecrow was gone....
By Oisin O’Gruagáin
Wow. The scarecrow seemed so pleasant... until the end. Then again, maybe it turns out to be nice after all and you are just tricking your readers. Either way, I hope you write some more of this story.
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