I don't know how long I've been stuck like this. Days, weeks, months, they've all become a blur to me. The searing, bright, summer sun hangs high in the sky. It's way too hot today.
I should be feeling pain, but everything went numb ages ago. My arms are stuck, outstretched wide to either side, like I'm ready to embrace someone in a hug. My clothes are worn, shoddy. They're not even mine, but whoever put me here dressed me like that.
About that, I don't even know how I got here. I've been unable to move, but the surrounding crops give it away as some sort of isolated farm. The field looks withered and long abandoned. I can feel something digging up my back, like a pole keeping me planted firmly in the ground. Still, there's no pain, but I still suspect it to be the one thing keeping me standing upright.
I've not seen any signs of life since I woke up here, except for the wildlife. The birds landing on my open arms have been my only friends. I talk to them and they talk back.
They, the birds, adopted a nick name for me. I don't know what it means, but I've heard their whispers.
"Scarecrow," they call me.