The scarecrow jerked and pushed, but no matter what it did, the rope didn’t seem to be getting any looser. But it was getting closer of course, but just a tiny bit, not enough to be felt at least. Before it could continue, tugging on the rope that was the opposite to thick and dexterous, something else caught its attention.

There was a voice that came from its chest. A deep voice that sounded really bored, as if it would be doing anything else. It took a few words before the scarecrow looked down to look at its chest, and see a hole there gaping, and sharp teeth and a long tongue coming from that hole.

“Why the hell are we shaking so much?” It said.

The scarecrow felt that this body part was as comfortable and normal as its arm. An intuition not a lot of people would have if they found a mouth popping out their chest from nowhere. Shrieking would be the average response, and perhaps the reasonable one.

It tried to speak, but the words fumbled out of its mouth like spitting sludge. It sounded like complete gibberish. It hadn’t had a chance to use its tongue yet, which was one of the things it had gained upon birth, and also one of the things that would make the farmers burn it if they knew.

“Bwa bwa bwa,” the scarecrow said, intending to say, I’m trying to get loose, and because it technically didn’t know language, but rather almost did it, as breathing or walking, not necessarily requiring beforehand knowledge to do, it didn’t know it made a mistake.

“What did you say?” Luckily the chest mouth could point it out. And it did so with zero enthusiasm, as if this was the hundred and fiftieth time it was pushing some sort of boulder up a hill with it falling down again. Needless to say, but said anyway, boring.

“Bwa bwa bla,” the scarecrow at least managed to say another type of noise this time, which meant that it was improving, and at a very slow pace at that. It is fortunate that babies didn’t come out of the womb with this speed of improvement.

“I’m done with this shit,” the voice said, and the mouth shut, almost disappearing entirely, making the torso turn back into its normal state as it had been in the start. It was not at all something expected or nice.

The scarecrow continued tugging at the string, as other entities crept into its vision. They were literally creeping, at least twenty small green humanoids, some carrying torches, other spears, slowly crept through the field, directly heading for the house.

The wind blew. The moon was high in the sky. A random descriptive paragraph put in here for the sole reason of adding mood. The grass brushed to the side, and there was a shout that came from the house.

The scarecrow managed to deduce that those green creatures had done something to anger the old man, as he shouted the last time he was angry. What came after the shout was its limbs getting tangled, and being able to deduce that was enough for the scarecrow to change its tactics.

It needed to get out of the stucks, and quickly, but instead of pressing outwards, it pressed upwards. It was a small change, but a revolutionary one as it was quickly outside of the rope, and falling flat on its face.

Its body was too heavy for it to support. The most it could do was squirm around on the floor like a worm, except without the ability to go into the dirt. It was quite a sad sight to be frank. Perhaps the stick and the rope had been there for a reason, something the scarecrow only came to realize after it had already gotten loose. Hindsight is 20/20.

It couldn’t sit up, but it managed to look up and see the house, that was now on fire. The frames crackled, and a wall fell asunder. The small creatures, from now on, as I hope I’ve gotten over the point that the scarecrow does not know what a goblin is, will be called goblins.

The goblins were ransacking the farm. They took and carried the pigs. They took and carried the chickens. They killed the horses, cut them in pieces, and then took and carried them. One goblin, however, was not carrying and taking, but rather staring quite vacantly at the scarecrow.

See, it had realized that it quite enjoyed the sight of the scarecrow, and it walked over, and took and carried it. The scarecrow didn’t move as it was able to deduce, from seeing the horse, what would happen if the goblin was unable to carry anything.

The house tumbled down. The grey smoke floated higher, and higher, aiming to touch the clouds. Sparkes of fire jumped from the house. The goblins turned around and walked back to where they had come from.

“What the hell are you carrying,” a smaller goblin said, holding two chickens by their legs.

“I’m not sure, but isn’t it cool, looks like one of those stupid humans.”

“Yeah it kinda does, except its still when you touch it unlike those humans.”

“Hahaha,” the chest mouth reappeared and laughed.

The goblins jumped, being completely confused, and blindsighted by this appearance. They looked left, and then right, and then from experience up, and then from bad luck down. They found nothing, slowly scratched their head, both at the same time, wondering what the hell had just happened.

“Strange,” the goblin said.

“So are humans,” the chest mouth said.

The scarecrow, of course, could not understand anything about what was happening, except that the goblins grew more and more jitterish.