Scarecrows
If you ask me, scarecrows have been wildly under-loved as monsters. There is something inherently creepy about a straw-man who stands motionless in an empty field day-in and day-out, and yet the best the horror world has come up with amounts to a handful of cheapie, DTV movies that are hardly worthy of the scarecrow’s iconic stature. I’ve always had a fondness for those bag-headed straw-men, and have been coming up with scary stories about scarecrows come-to-life for nearly as long as I can remember, so it seemed only appropriate my first collection should have one such tale included.
But the real inspiration behind this story originates from one night of my childhood, when I was sick with the flu. I remember lying on our living room couch, feeling miserable, when all of a sudden my mother (who I should take a moment here to point out is in fact the sweetest woman on the face of the planet) walked into the room carrying a knife, asking, “Are you ready for your medicine, Nathan?” In my fever-addled mind, I thought for sure that she was going to gut me then and there as I was lying helplessly on the couch. The moment passed just as soon as it had arrived, however, when I saw that she had the knife to cut some pills out of those little plastic trays they’re stored in. But those brief few seconds were some of the most terrifying moments of my young life, and went on to shape the direction of this particular story.
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