October short-story collection.

The scarecrow

Every autumn, I visit my grandparents farm on the outskirts of a neighboring city, a small visit for a few days that always seems to warm my heart. 

I would always visit the entire farm on the first day, passing by the fields and by the barn, saying hello to every animal I encounter on my walk. 

 On the second day, I would always bake handmade pies with my grandmother, a tradition established when I was still a mere little kid. 

On the third day, I would be in charge of taking care of the scarecrows, as they all needed some proper care there and there.

 My favorite activity, despite the chill that always runs down my spine when I properly replace one specific scarecrow, the tallest scarecrow of all.

 I remember asking my grandfather once why only one was taller than the others,and his answer was along the line of "A taller one,aye ? They're all the same,kiddo. You're just thinking too much after looking up at them all day long."

 For years,I listened to him, thinking it was indeed a good reason. I was only a child, and I truly needed to look up at them while taking care of them. 

 Yet,today, I am not that little child anymore, and on the third day of my trip to the farm, the scarecrow still seems taller than any other, even taller than in my memories. 

Perhaps because I have not been able to come for a few years.

 Turning my back to it to grab the hat it had lost due to the wind, my entire body suddenly froze as I felt a breath hitting the nape of my neck.

 God.

 My eyes closed,as I tried to stay logical. 

 I had felt no presence getting closer to me, and the fields were empty today, only scarecrows and I present. 

 It was probably just the wind. 

 "I've missed your care,little one. It is tiring to protect your lands and not to be taken care of. Won't you give me back my hat?"