The Scarecrow

Is any of this real? Is Emily really dead? Have crows started roosting in my attic? Why don’t the doors in my house lead to the places they’re supposed to? And above all, what is this mysterious voice whispering in my ear, telling me that things don’t have to be this way? Can he really bring her back? Do I want him to? This strange straw man is coming after me and I’m letting it happen. I just miss her so much... and not in a sweet, romantic way. I’m talking about the kind of loneliness that makes you claw deep scars into the back of your own neck. I won’t cry. Is madness really so bad compared to a reality of despair? Am I the monster? Every day is another bite, that’s the deal. Fair trade.