One day, as you were walking on the old, dried weeds of what used to be corn stalks, you feel this weird sense that you are being watched. The farm felt different now that you inherited it from your parents. It was warm, adventurous, yet at the same time would feel haunted, odd. Now, it just felt forgotten, foreboding. There was still the old scarecrow, yet still seemed to look new. It was the only thing that didn't look different. When you would turn away or walk, you always felt watched.
Comments
0No comments yet.