I had my boots off and was lying on the couch with my favorite blanket. It was purple and covering every part of my body, even my head. I did not want to see the scarecrows, and the scarecrows would not see me. After witnessing with my own eyeballs that a supposed lifeless scarecrow winked at me, I was convinced that all of Mom and Dad's scarecrows were alive.

What did they want from me? Why were they making my life on the farm miserable?

I never did tell my mother and father about that scarecrow who gave me a wink because what was the point? They would not take me seriously and try to reassure me that my eyes were only playing tricks.

It was a challenge for me to chow down on my breakfast while hiding under the blanket. I was sitting up, and the blanket would fall off my head every other minute, exposing me to those wicked scarecrows. I would let out a yelp and pull my blanket over my head. I could feel my body shaking, and goosebumps appeared all over my skin.

To be honest with you readers, I absolutely despised being on this farm. Not because of the hard work that I had to put in every day. Not because I had to get my hands dirty. But because I had the "pleasure" of working and doing what I wanted to do with those scarecrows watching my every move. It was disturbing and not right.

I thought about packing my belongings and running away from the farm, however, what good would that do? I would worry my parents and probably become homeless.

I finished my pancakes and oatmeal and set the empty plate and bowl on the table next to the couch. The blanket slid off my head once again, and I stared at the window. The living room window had the best view of the cornfield and the scarecrows. I was curious to see if any of the scarecrows would do something. The wind gently blew the leaves of the cornfield.

I was about to cover my head with my blanket again when I heard the kitchen door open and footsteps. I knew that it could not have been a scarecrow because all of them remained on their wooden stakes.

"Robin," I heard Mom call my name. "Your father and I just got finished with the garden."

"We are going to head into town and buy a few things," Dad commented.

The three of us were leaving this farm for a while? Yes!

I pushed my blanket off me, put on my boots, and scurried into the kitchen with my empty plate and bowl. I set them, along with the fork and spoon, in the sink and informed my parents that I was ready to go.

"You are not coming with us, Robin," Mom said. "It will just be your father and I."

My legs quivered. "Y-you are leaving me all alone on the farm?" I stammered.

"We will not take long," Dad said. "At least a half an hour."

My face saddened. "Why can I not come with you?"

"You need to check on the newborn lamb while we are gone. Remember that you are responsible for that lamb."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, Mom. Yes, Dad. I know."

They kissed the top of my head, and I watched as they grabbed their coats and went out the front door. A few seconds later, I overheard the truck driving away.

"I guess that I should feed the lamb its milk," I said. "But first..."

Our house had one of those old telephones that was connected to the wall. I walked over to it and scooped up the phone. I was about to press a number when I heard the doorbell ring. I placed the phone back on the receiver and walked towards the front door. This door had a peephole, so I stood on my tiptoes and peeked through it. I was relieved to know that it was my best friend Mario.

I opened the door and welcomed him in. "Thank the stars that you are here, Mario. I was just about to call you."

Mario stepped inside, and I shut the door. He had his hands in his pockets and smiled at me.

"Hello, my sweet Robin. I was thinking that you could use the company."

"You came at the correct time," I stated. "My mom and dad just left me here and are in town to buy some stuff."

"I cannot believe that your own parents still think that those scarecrows are safe. It is a good thing that I am here to protect you."

I giggled softly. "Thank you, Mario."

Despite the fact he had an Italian name and an Italian accent, my best friend was actually from Mexican descent. He was born in Mexico and moved to Italy with his big family before his mom and dad decided that they all live here in the town of Forlot.

Mario's skin was a mix of white and black, and he had short, black hair. He wore a red, short-sleeved shirt with a collar and three buttons, jeans, and white socks and sandals.

Unlike my parents, Mario believed me when I first suspected that the scarecrows were alive. Part of the reason is because he believes in superstition and magic. Not witchcraft. Magic that is supposed to be used for good.

"I know what we can do while your folks are away," Mario said. "We can give the scarecrows a taste of their own medicine and stalk them. I have my cellphone so that we can record." He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. "Aw, man! No signal?"

"You should be used to that by now," I told him.

I went up to the sink and pulled back the curtains - and screamed bloody murder.

It was a scarecrow.