Digital Art made by me
The scarecrow had disappeared from the cornfield.
In its place, my eldest son wore his robes, wielding a bloody sickle and the torn shirts of his father and brother.
A dark, misshapen silhouette loomed over him, controlling him like a puppet, his once gentle eyes reflecting a primal evil.
I shouted his name, but he only emitted an inhuman bellow before lunging towards me with his sickle raised.
Instinctively, I grabbed the hunting rifle and pulled the trigger.
The roar of the shot drowned out his spectral shriek as his body collapsed.
The dark silhouette vanished, leaving behind the chilling question:
What dark force was controlling my son?