Diary of the Dark Harvest
First came the plague, the storm of crows with madly flapping wings and piercing, torturous cries. The crops were ravaged, set upon by the screaming flock of blackbirds. The threat of starvation drew near. The farm was in ruins. He had made me toil in the fields from sunrise till sunset for years, in his drunken madness, I took a daily beating. It had to end.
During the bitter chill of winter the idea came to me to create a scarecrow, not just any scarecrow. He needed to appear realistic. After all, the crows were accustomed to crudely constructed creatures. Years have passed since the murder. I would use the decomposed body, impale him on a stake, and erect him in the cornfield. That was the beginning of my work.
There were others. He was not the first. Now I would search for them.
Include their kind in my cornfield. The perfect plan.........