I've told Nana that every night the scarecrow in our yard gets closer to the house, as if it was attracted by a magnet.
«But if it is stuck in the field, Miguel, how was it going to move?», she says.
I'm not sure how to respond. I can swear over the holy mother of God that the shadow the Scarecrow casts in the daylight does not fit with its figure. I'm afraid that because of an oversight in our prayers the devil might have gotten into it.
The worst part comes with the little piles of straw: they first appeared in the entrance hall, then they were in the kitchen, then they were spread in the cupboard. Nana punished me for it. Kids are the ones to get the blame in this cases.
Tonight, the dry little straws showed up next to my room's door. I'm afraid to get in. Before I came back from the bathroom I took a look through the window: the Scarecrow was not in the field.
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Sleep tight!
Hugs,
Dev.
