She spun around in place, looking all around her at the massive field that stretched out for as far as the eye can see; seeming more like an ocean then a grassland. The grasses rolled like waves as the wind blew through them, making them dance as it passed. She held her hands out just over the tops of the waist high grasses, letting them tickle her as it brushed her palms. The grasses glowed gold as if the autumn sun shone down from overhead, but when she looked up the sky was dark with gray clouds circling overhead. For some reason this didn’t strike her as odd; the sea-like field somehow seemed familiar to her, as if she had just returned home after a long voyage. Crows glided through the sky above her, flapping their wings rapidly as they descended into the grasses. She smiled as they hopped along, hunting after the grasshoppers and worms that filled the plains. She walked on like this for a while, looking down every so often as she watched where she stepped; the long foliage often wrapped around her ankles, pulling at her feet, threatening to trip her. She looked up to see how far she had walked and stopped abruptly when she found something looming above her. She cocked her head to the side when she found herself in front of a scarecrow. It struck her as strange to see the life sized doll out in the middle of the field. She could see for miles, but when she had looked earlier there was nothing in the field but grass and birds. It was as if the scarecrow had materialized from thin air. She studied the scarecrow closely, inspecting everything from the tattered clothing that he wore; to the straw that stuck out where it was stuffed too tightly, to the ropes that bound its wrists, waist and legs to the posts that held it high above the grasses.

She took a step back to admire the handiwork of the straw man. His face was made of a burlap sack that somebody had sewn two buttons on for eyes. Somebody had placed a large wide brimmed hat on top of his head that seemed to be too large for the scarecrow, for it seemed to lean a little too far to the left. A large grin had been painted across his face, but for some reason she couldn’t shake the feeling like the scarecrow was not as happy as the smile made him out to be.

She once again cocked her head to the side when something else about the scarecrow struck her as strange; his chest rose and fell as if he were breathing. She stepped closer, sure that her eyes were just playing tricks on her or that the wind moved him slightly, giving him the illusion of life, but the harder she looked the more sure she was. She reached out to touch the scarecrow in order to confirm whether he was moving, but right before her fingers touched the dusty fabric, the thunderous sound of flapping wings and the caw of crows filled the air. Dozens of crows swarmed on her and the scarecrow, knocking her back from it, sending her crashing into the dirt. She snapped her head up in horror as the crows ripped into the scarecrow, ripping the fabric to shreds, sending hay flying out from his stitching. That was when she heard his screams. Beneath the burlap cloth, an all too human voice screamed out in pain, shouting out over the scream of the furious birds. She jumped up from the dirt and ran to the scarecrow, grasping wildly at the crows, grabbing them and ripping them away from it. Crows pecked and scratched at her hands shoulders and face, trying to keep her from protecting the scarecrow. She pulled at the ropes that bound him to the stick, trying to set him free, snapping the ropes that bound his legs and waist and finally his hands. The scarecrow dropped to the ground with a thud far heavier than that of straw and ferociously grasped at the crows, tearing them apart by the wings, just like they did to him. The crows flapped furiously to escape the reach of the scarecrow and began to swirl around them in the air, filling the sky with more birds then she had ever seen. The scarecrow picked up his hat that had fallen from his head during his crash. He placed it on top of his head and raised his hands high above him as thunder cracked through the sky, drowning out the sound of the caws of the crows. She watched as the clouds swirled in the sky above them, quickly forming a thin funnel that rapidly dove to the ground. The scarecrow pointed to the funnel, cocking his thumb back as if it were a pistol in his hands. She watched as he fired his imaginary handgun and somehow sent the funnel ablaze. The flaming tornado whipped around after the crows, catching them up in it’s fiery winds, filling the air with the rancid smell of death. She felt her knees shake as she buckled and collapsed to the ground. The scarecrow turned to face her, as if no longer interested in his revenge on the crows that had tried to end his existence. He crouched down in front of her as she shook in fear. She wasn’t sure if she was afraid of the crows, the scarecrow, or of his ability to so easily kill all the large black birds. He raised a gloved finger up to his painted smile, as if he were shushing her. Then she woke up.