The day is almost at an end. There is a brisk breeze gently blowing through the fields. The sky is nice and pink just at the right time for golden hour. In the par distance, there is a scarecrow. The neighbors who own him are nice Southerners who own a farm and have a not-so-good son that went missing a few months ago.

As you walk past fields, you notice a scarecrow perched on a pole, appearing real and uneasy. But why...?