Story 136: The Harvest Scarecrow
Every autumn, the small town of Marigold prepared for the annual harvest festival. The fields would glow golden, heavy with pumpkins, corn, and other bounties of the season. But along with the crops, another legend grew—one far darker. It was the tale of **Jack the Scarecrow**, a menacing figure that watched over the fields year after year.
Jack wasn’t like any ordinary scarecrow. With a wicked, grinning pumpkin for a head, its sharp-toothed smile gleamed beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Its body, made of brittle straw and dressed in ragged clothes, sat eerily still in the fields, hands clasped over a crooked staff. But his eyes—dark, hollow sockets—seemed to follow anyone who dared approach too closely.
The elders told stories to warn the children. "Don’t go near Jack after dark," they'd say. "For when the moon is full, Jack awakens, and he seeks more than crows to scare away."