26 of 32

Write now Article Tools

SECTION I Identify Suspects

Tommy Smith
The Smith's Doberman's
The pesky birds
Tommy Smith's scarecrow

SECTION II Mystery body

My name is Christie but my friends call me "Flick", I'm not sure why, something to do with my long hair I think. I grew up on a small farm and the happiest day of my childhood occurred when my father told me I could have my own patch of ground. "We'll need a good crop out of it" he said with a serious face. I felt extremely important and went about preparing the soil and planting the seeds.

"What are you going to scare the birds with" my father joked one day. At least I thought he was joking. "I don't joke about birds" he said ensuring I understood. I needed a scarecrow and I needed it quickly.

My father gave me an old pair of his pants, a shirt, shoes and an old cowboy hat. I stuffed them all full of straw and stood my scarecrow in the middle of the field. He had a proud look, like a shepherd watching over his flock.

"What about his scare'?" my father asked. What did he mean by that? Don't scarecrows just operate automatically? I had never heard of such a thing, until he explained it "Scarecrows need a scare' Flick. Without it, they're just piles of straw and old clothes." How peculiar I thought, but it made sense. What was scary about something stuck in a field that didn't move? I thought a scare' must have been some sort of magic. "You need to give your scarecrow a personality and he'll look after the rest." Splendid fatherly advice I thought.

My scarecrow was soon the most content looking scarecrow in the land at least that was what I thought after seeing the dull scarecrow at Tommy Smith's place next door. My scarecrow had a big smile and wide eyes. I spoke to him regularly, especially as he appeared awfully lonely. We had great conversations about the weather, our garden and those pesky birds. I was sure he was coming to life at night and running over to the Smith's to play with their scarecrows. I often looked out my window when it was dark, but could never catch him in the act. His gorgeous smile never wavered and I was satisfied he had the perfect scare', as no birds ever came near him. That soon changed in a drastic way.

I remember waking up one night to the sound of dogs howling. It was the Smith's dogs and they appeared to be in an hysterical state. The noise eventually disappeared into the distance as the dogs seemed to have made their way home. I looked out the window, but nothing was out of order and I went back to sleep. The following

• 1
• 2
• 3
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: The scarecrow mystery?
We want to hear your view. Write now!