A Dream-Time story about a wooden "scarecrow" which comes to life to murder people.

He paused, staring at the long, black strands of what looked like human hair stuck to the head by tree-gum.   “It’s even got hair on its head,” he finally said.

“Jesus, you’re ugly!” he said to the scarecrow.   Then looking from the sickle-sharp teeth, to the long, jagged claws, which seemed carven from expensive lead crystal, Neil shuddered.   ‘Christ, I wouldn’t like those things going for my throat!’ he thought.

As though in response to his thought, the scarecrow suddenly lurched at Neil.

“What the hell?” said Neil.   He leapt aside, thinking the gargoyle-like creature had fallen from its post.   But instead of falling face-first to the ground, the wooden devil span round to glare at the farmer with its blue-opal eyes.   It’s diamond-hard teeth clanged together like the jaws of a great bear-trap….

And it started advancing on Neil Ulverstone!

“Holy shit!” cried Neil.   Turning, he fled into the forest of sweet-smelling eucalyptus and wattle trees.   Behind him as he ran, he heard the slow, but steady stomp-stomp-stomp of the wooden demon’s heavy footsteps.

Neil had run for more than a kilometre, before realising that he was going in the wrong direction.   ‘Deeper into the forest!’ he thought.   ‘I should have run back to the house.   There’s a shotgun, and cans of petrol at the farmhouse.’   But it was too late for him to reverse direction now.

“Oh…my…God!” gasped Neil, panting after he had been running for hours.   His knees felt as though they had been smashed by a sledgehammer, his calves throbbed, threatening to cramp and his heart felt as though it was about to burst.

“Can’t…go…much further!” he panted.   He tried not to stop, but as his left calf began to spasm, it was all he could do not to fall to the ground, writhing from the lancing pain.

“Holy shit!” he cried.   Forced to stop to rub at the cramp, he looked back expecting to see the wooden demon just behind him.

“Where…the…hell…?” he gasped, staring at the vacant forestland.   He rubbed at his left calf furiously, hoping the golf ball-sized lump would go down soon and allow him to at least walk away.

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