Clank, clank, clank! This drew her attention. She eyed his enormous dark shape on the post, the wind making him slap back and forth as if trying to loosen from his mooring. His tattered clothing whipped about him angrily. The inanimate had come to life, his shadowed face pale beneath the large hat, but she felt it. His eyes were upon her. As soon as he freed himself, it was her farmhouse window he would be knocking upon. She picked up her basket of corn and raced from the field, willing herself not to look back. Then, as she approached the safety of the backyard, she had the courage to face him again. His head bobbed now in the full force of the coming storm's energy. The hat flew from his head and, in the dying light of the day, she saw him throw back his head and stare her down as he unhinged from his cross and jumped to the earth with a heavy thump . (The above is an unedited piece from a short story about a scarecrow I'm writing)...