The Scarecrow and the Stranger

Scarecrow wearing the leather jacket is moving. It convulses in a violent seizure, pulling and thrashing until it falls crumpled on the ground. The remaining scarecrows encircle us, tightening their trap. I can't see where i'm going. Blades of grass are whipping at my face as i try to dodge the sounds of dead things twitching to life. And soaking through the surface is something ooze and red. Where is the fairestdamnit? Get off me.