Nobody Warned Us About the Scarecrow

My parents moved us to Sutton on a whim. That's the only way to describe it. They were sick of city rent, and out here they could afford a whole three-bedroom house for less than our old apartment. I got my own room, they got theirs, and there was even a guest room for visitors who would never come.

They didn't know that part yet.

Sutton was cute at first glance. Little town center, a few shops, a marketplace. And the people — God, the people loved their community events. Fruit and vegetable contests, a festival for every season, town meetings every other week. Anything to keep busy.

Anything to keep from thinking about what was wrong with the town.

I wasn't thrilled about the move, but I went along with it because it made my parents so happy. I only had one year of school left anyway, and then I was off to college. We had no idea I'd never make it there.

We arrived on the first of October, a year ago. The neighbors descended almost immediately. First the Millers from next door, carrying a giant wooden basket of baked goods, smiling so wide it looked painful. We were still surrounded by unpacked boxes when they knocked.

"Oh, what a wonderful decision, buying this house," Mrs. Miller gushed. "And at the perfect time, too. We saw you have a daughter — she must be about our Ethan's age. Maybe he can show her all the fun a young person can have in Sutton!"

Her husband talked even faster. My mum couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"You three must come to dinner sometime. We'd love to introduce you to our town," Mrs. Miller went on. "Have you met Harry yet?"

My dad drifted over to the door, probably to rescue my mum.

"Oh, you must be the husband, hello!"

My parents were city people through and through. I could see them getting steamrolled by all that warmth, grinning helplessly.

When the Millers finally left, we dug into the food — and then the doorbell rang again. And again. Neighbor after neighbor, every one of them bearing casseroles and pies and salads. By the time the last one left, my dad just closed the door and exhaled, and the three of us looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"This is going to take some adjustment," my mum giggled.

"At least we don't have to worry about lunch or dinner," I said, surveying the mountain of food.

"They're a little peculiar," Dad admitted. "But nice, I guess. And Avery, half the town is already trying to set you up with their kids. You're very popular."

"Yeah, maybe I'll become Harry's friend," I said.

That stopped the laughter for a second. "What was that about, anyway?" Mum asked. "Everyone keeps mentioning this Harry person, but nobody will say who he actually is."

"Maybe the mayor," Dad guessed.

Because of the fall holidays, I wasn't starting school right away, and honestly I wasn't planning to make friends here — I had my real friends back home. So I spent those first days with my parents. The day after we arrived, Mum and I walked to the town center to stock up on groceries. Ten minutes on foot. I was expecting a supermarket, but it was more of a tiny kiosk — no name brands, mostly local vegetables and dairy.

The woman behind the register beamed at us. "Wonderful choices. You know, everything we sell is produced locally."

"Oh, that's nice," Mum said.

"Yes, isn't it? We don't rely on the outside much. We don't need to. Harry wouldn't like that," she added, dropping her voice to a whisper on the last part.

Mum and I exchanged a look.

"Okay, seriously, who is this Harry?" Mum asked. "Everyone keeps saying the name—"

The woman's face went white. All the warmth drained out of her like someone had pulled a plug.

"You'll learn soon enough," she said quietly. "Hopefully not too soon. Just remember — we all stick together here."

She wouldn't answer another question. Just started babbling about the upcoming fall festival instead.

I wish she'd been right about us having more time. Because I met Harry that very night.

My parents had gone to bed. The street outside was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop — I'd noticed earlier that everyone on the block had pulled their shades down. I was in my room watching a show when I heard it. Footsteps, except not quite. More like something dragging itself across the pavement.

I went to the window. At first I couldn't see anything — every house was dark. But as my eyes adjusted, I picked out a shape moving down the street. A man in torn, shredded clothes, with what looked like straw poking out of his sleeves and pant legs. He moved wrong — slow, crooked, bent sideways like he was injured, weaving in a zigzag. I couldn't see his face until he stopped.

Right in front of our house. And looked up. Straight at my window.

That's when it hit me that mine was the only lit window on the entire street.

My breathing went shallow and my body just locked up. Then my bedroom door flew open, my light snapped off, and a hand yanked me into the hallway before I could even scream.

It was Dad. Mum was standing in front of their bedroom door in her pajamas.

"Did you see that?" Dad whispered.

I nodded. I couldn't speak.

"What a freak," Mum muttered.

"Joanna."

"I'm just saying. It's the middle of the night and he's staring at our daughter's window."

"Why did you pull me out here?" I managed. I didn't want to admit my parents might be as scared as I was.

"We saw him looking up," Dad said. "And your light was on."

"He was looking at you," Mum whispered.

Dad crept back into my room. A minute later he came back out. "He's gone."

In the morning, daylight made the whole thing feel ridiculous.

"Probably just some drunk stumbling home from an early Halloween party," Dad said over breakfast.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I still didn't like the way he stared at me, though."

Mum was pushing her scrambled eggs around without eating. "Do you think that man was Harry?" she asked finally.

I'd been thinking the exact same thing. We laughed about it, but it didn't change the fact that something about this town felt deeply, deeply off.

That evening we had dinner at the Millers'. I almost stayed home, but I wanted answers, so I went. Mum brought a bottle of her favorite wine from the case she'd stocked up on before the move. The Millers were over the moon. Their table was loaded with appetizers and decorations — these people knew how to host, I'll give them that.

Mr. Miller poured everyone a glass, including me.

"This is fantastic!" Mrs. Miller exclaimed. "I can't remember the last time I had wine this good."

"I'm glad," Mum said. "I have a few more bottles, if you'd like one sometime."

"No, no — I couldn't take the last memories you have of home."

"Oh, don't worry, I can order more when we run out."

The Millers traded a strange glance and said nothing.

"Ethan!" Mr. Miller suddenly bellowed. "We're starting dinner!"

He smiled at us apologetically. "Our son gets lost in his own world sometimes."

Ethan finally shuffled in — tall, black hair like his dad, dressed in a t-shirt and ripped jeans while his parents looked like they'd stepped out of a 1950s dinner party.

"Ethan, meet our new neighbors, Eli and Joanna Russel. And their daughter Avery."

"Hi," he mumbled, dropping into the chair across from me.

He was the first person in Sutton who didn't smile at us. He barely spoke through dinner while his parents chattered nonstop.

Near the end, Mum finally brought up what we'd seen the night before.

Silence. The Millers kept smiling, but it went rigid.

"That was Harry," Ethan said flatly.

"That's what we thought, but — does this happen often? Does Harry have some kind of psychological problem?" Mum asked, blunt as ever.

Mrs. Miller actually shushed her.

"Sorry, Joanna, that was rude of me," Mum said. "It's just — the man was staring at our daughter's window at night. We're a little concerned."

"We don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Mr. Miller cut in smoothly. "Everyone is so happy you moved to Sutton. It's just not simple to explain who Harry is."

"Has he ever hurt anyone here?" Dad asked.

More silence.

Dinner wrapped up fast and awkward after that. We left with more questions than we'd arrived with.

The next day, Mum suggested a day trip — explore the nearby towns, find a real grocery store. None of us said it out loud, but I think we all just wanted to get away for a few hours. The neighbors were friendly on the surface, but something was rotten underneath. I could see the regret settling into my parents' faces. We didn't belong here.

We packed some essentials and drove.

Five hours later, we gave up. There was no way out of Sutton. The GPS was wrong. Streets dead-ended. We tried to retrace the route we'd come in on, but it was like those roads had never existed.

We were losing our minds. Finally we found a long, empty road — nothing but fields for at least half an hour — and figured it had to lead somewhere.

Dad pushed the gas. We could breathe again. Until we saw the shape on the road ahead.

From a distance we couldn't tell what it was. Closer, we realized it was a person, walking slowly toward us. We stopped right in front of him.

I recognized the shredded clothes immediately. The straw. Everything about him looked fake — except his face. A human face. Thick eyebrows. Thin lips.

He dragged himself toward our car. Mum hit the locks.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then he reached one arm toward my mother's door — and Dad threw the car into reverse. When we'd put enough distance between us, he spun the car around.

We nearly ran out of gas, but somehow we made it home.

Ethan was sitting on his front porch with a book when we pulled up. My parents didn't want me going over, but I talked them into it. They went off to knock on neighbors' doors, asking how to get out of town.

"Tried to leave, huh?" Ethan said as I walked up.

I nodded.

He gave me a half-smile that actually looked real. "What's going on here?" I asked, trying not to sound panicked.

"You fell into the trap. Once you move to Sutton, you stay. For good. The only way out is death."

I swallowed hard. "That's ridiculous."

He shrugged. "Doesn't make it less true."

"We came here before, to look at the house. We left just fine."

"That was before you lived here. Now it's too late."

A thousand thoughts crashed through my head, but there was no point arguing. We'd just spent hours driving through a tiny town. I knew he was right, even though it felt impossible. So I got angry instead.

"Then why the fuck didn't anyone warn us?"

He stood up and stepped closer. "Because they're all insane. After the man who lived in your house died, they were just so happy to get new residents. New neighbors. They can't leave, so they'll take any little change they can get — a little glimpse of the outside. It'll happen to you and your parents soon enough."

That evening my mother cried for hours. My father cycled through reasoning, rage, silence, and apologies.

We tried calling and texting people from the outside world. But every message we sent got rewritten. "We are trapped" turned into "we are so happy." "This is hell" became "you should move here as well."

We tried to leave again. By car, on foot, on bikes. We never saw Harry again, but we never found a way out either. The town was a maze.

Slowly, over weeks, the insanity became routine. My parents started dressing like the neighbors, acting like them. They joined the town events. Made friends — friends who were just as trapped as we were.

Harry wanted us to stay. The townspeople wanted us to stay.

And Sutton became our new reality.