Things hadn’t gone as planned for me in the city, and to be candid, moving back in with my parents felt too humiliating. Just then, I unexpectedly inherited a house from a distant uncle. I didn’t know him well; he was somewhat of a recluse. After his wife passed away a few years back and with no children, I was puzzled as to why he left the house to me. I visited the property, and while it was unremarkable—a standard farmhouse nestled in a quiet, isolated area, about thirty minutes from the nearest town—it was in decent shape. A few years prior, attempts to rent it had failed, as a young couple had abruptly broken their lease and vanished. The house required some renovations, lacked internet and TV, but was livable. I was surprisingly thrilled at the thought of living a more self-sufficient life, with my own water, heating, and a satellite dish for communications, though electricity was still grid-based.

Upon entering, I flung open a window and gazed out at the expansive, overgrown field before me. It was wild yet beautiful, and it was hard to believe it was now mine. The first few nights were restless; you know that uneasy feeling when trying to relax in unfamiliar surroundings? I was still adjusting, but that wasn’t the sole reason for my sleeplessness. Odd sounds drifted from outside.

Rustling noises from the fields echoed like footsteps through the underbrush. I attempted to rationalize the sounds to avoid leaving the warmth of my bed, but curiosity ultimately won. Peering out the bedroom window into the backyard, I saw nothing out of the ordinary except for a few old garments still hanging on the line, likely forgotten by the previous tenants. Perhaps a raccoon or some forest creature was rummaging through the trash. As I turned to return to bed, something caught my eye that I hadn’t noticed the previous night.

A scarecrow stood alone in the vacant lot. At the time, I dismissed it, unaware that it would soon become the source of my nightmares. The next morning while tidying up outside, I remembered the scarecrow but couldn’t see it well from my spot, so I continued with my chores. By nightfall, I had forgotten about it, focusing instead on keeping warm as the wind howled, making it feel colder than the previous night.

I eventually began to doze off, but soon the strange noises returned. I threw off my covers and approached the window, only to find the backyard empty. The sounds were now emanating from the field beyond the fence. When I glanced into the pitch-black night, I noticed something alarming. There had only been one scarecrow the night before, but now there were two. This second one looked distinctly different from the first. The unsettling realization that I was not alone sent chills down my spine. “What is this?” I muttered. “Who put this here?” I pondered why anyone would place two scarecrows so close together. Was it an art installation of some sort? Yet, as I mused over the appearance of this new pumpkin-headed figure, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Outside of the two eerie scarecrows, nothing appeared amiss, but the sensation lingered.

Perhaps it was just a prank from a neighboring farmhouse, or someone trying to help. To preserve a sense of calm and ensure a good night’s sleep, I tried to convince myself it was nothing more than that. I returned to bed, hoping for a decent night’s rest. But soon, more strange noises drifted from outside. Frustrated, I donned earplugs for the first time in a year and fell asleep.

The next morning, I was furious to discover yet another scarecrow in the field. I shouted from my window, “I know you’re out there! You’re trespassing; this is private property!” I wanted to tear down those scarecrows, but the undergrowth was so dense that walking through it was nearly impossible. Wait a minute, if I couldn’t navigate it, how did they manage to set them up? I scrutinized the field for any signs of disturbance but found none. You’d expect some flattened grass or tracks, right? The first scarecrow hadn’t been so close to the house the day before, had it? It seemed to have moved nearer.

“Ahhh!!! I’m letting them get to me,” I exclaimed to the empty room. “Forget it.” I decided to distract myself with a trip to the nearby village. I cleaned, repaired a hole in the wall, and even got the shower working. It’s amazing what you can accomplish with a little time, basic tools, and some YouTube tutorials. Before long, night fell again. I inserted my earplugs and slipped into bed, finally enjoying a deep, restful sleep.

Yet, the following morning brought panic. Five more scarecrows had appeared overnight, and the first two had moved closer to the house. I felt deeply unsettled. Was I losing my mind? I called the police non-emergency line to report the bizarre occurrences. Soon, a cruiser arrived to investigate. I showed them the scarecrows, relieved to see they acknowledged them too. The fear that I was losing my grip on reality began to dissipate.

“Sir, are you certain these weren’t here when you moved in?” one officer asked, to which I replied firmly, “Yes, I’m sure.” They investigated for a bit and then left, having crawled toward the scarecrows at times. I could tell these officers weren’t paid enough for this. Unfortunately, they found nothing unusual. They attempted to dust for prints but came up empty, suggesting the perpetrator had worn gloves. They mentioned visiting the neighbors for inquiries and promised to return the next day with a police dog to track any scent.

However, when they returned the next morning, they were shocked to find four more scarecrows had been erected overnight. The first scarecrow was now just a few feet from my backyard fence. They appeared as unsettled as I was. The dog sniffed around but didn’t detect anything. It was clear they were as baffled as I was, and they decided to station a cruiser on my street overnight, hoping to catch the culprit. I agreed, as I had no better solutions.

The next morning, I opened my window to a terrifying sight—an army of pumpkin-headed scarecrows glaring at me. The first scarecrow had crossed the fence and was now in my yard. I counted 23 scarecrows staring menacingly at my house. I rushed downstairs and knocked on the policeman’s window outside. He was visibly shocked. As far as he could tell, nothing had happened overnight, yet there appeared to be an army of scarecrows approaching my home.

We decided on a sensible course of action. The officer helped me contact a temp agency, and a couple of workers arrived. Together, we uprooted the scarecrows, piled them high, and set them ablaze. We called it a day shortly thereafter. I spent the rest of the day and went to bed early, relieved to see no new intruders in the field the next morning. I ventured into town for lunch, completed my wall painting, watched a movie, and then turned in for the night.

But true horror gripped me when I yanked open the drapes of my bedroom window the next day. I couldn’t see outside; my view was blocked by tattered clothes, hay, and pumpkin faces staring back at me. I tried to push them aside, but I was unable to clear my view. No matter how deep I reached, I found only hay, fabric, and wood. I checked every other window; they too were filled with carved pumpkins and burlap sacks wearing sinister grins. My heart sank when I opened my front door.

I was trapped in the house. They had barricaded every door and window. Every attempt I made to escape was futile. The power was out, water was gone, no internet, and my phone had a weak signal at best, especially out here. Since this ordeal began, I hadn’t had any reception, and soon my phone would be dead. This was the third day of this nightmare. At night, the house trembled and shook. Occasionally, heavy thuds echoed from the roof, and since yesterday, I had begun to hear whispers at the windows. Perhaps it was carbon dioxide poisoning; the air had grown stale. I still had some dry food and canned goods, but my water supply had run out yesterday.

To whomever finds this: I assure you, I am still of sound mind and body. However, I sense my time is short, and I will do the only thing I can.

This is my last will and testament. I wish for this land to remain untouched and uninhabited by anyone.

This land now belongs to the Scarecrows.