The farm had been forgotten, but the scarecrow hadn’t. It still stood there, with its hollow eyes fixed on the darkness. No one dared to approach it during the storm. They say, if your eyes meet its gaze, the sound of its laughter will haunt you forever. Thunder cracks the sky, and the rain falls heavier than ever. The sound of rotting wooden planks creaks in the wind. Suddenly, the scarecrow comes to life; its laughter pierces through the storm, loud and terrifying, like the voice of death that has arrived too late. Black crows circle madly above its head, filling the air with their frantic cries. Yet, the rain never touches the scarecrow. It is not of this world. Its laughter continues, deep and endless, echoing in every drop of rain—for eternity.