Sackface hung limply in the center of the cornfield, looking up at the sky. It had stormed that morning, making the burlap strapped over his face feel heavier than usual. A crow- one that had long since learned he wasn’t a threat- was pecking at his arm in an attempt to break the rope that tied him to his post, trying to reach the meat underneath. It had already picked one of his hands to tatters.

The bird flew away and he turned to see an older man coming toward him with a knife.

“No.” He pleaded, shaking his head as the man began cutting loose the rope tying him down. “Nonononono.”

“There’s a check up today.” The old man said as he carried Sackface into the nearby farmhouse. “Gotta get you ready.”

Inside, an old woman was waiting to peel the burlap mask off of Sackface. She bathed him, and then put makeup on him to hide his cuts and bruises. Afterward they dressed him in nice clothes and bandaged his hands.

A few hours later he sat at the end of a table in their kitchen, and the two adults told him to act his best. He would, just to get this over with faster.

There was a knock at the door, and soon another couple stepped inside. The man embraced Sackface, and the boy went through his usual routine.

“Hi papa.” He muttered, with an additional yes or no when needed. The man did most of the talking.

The old woman brought out dinner, and through the night Sackface sat in fear. What if the man noticed he was wearing makeup? Or how limply he moved his arms? Would he notice anything? But he never did. The woman he was with- who was not his mother- looked at him queerly sometimes, but never said anything.

Near the end of the night, the man finally addressed Sackface after hours of talking.

“How about a vacation this summer, kid? I’m sure the boss will give me the time. It’ll do you good getting out of grandpa’s farm for a while.”

Sackface’s eyes widened. He looked out the window- toward the cornfield- and began to tremble, before shaking his head violently. He looked down so he wouldn’t have to see how disappointed the man looked.

Soon after the man and the woman who wasn’t his mom left, and as the old couple watched them go they sighed with relief. The old man turned to Sackface.

“You sure you don’t want to stay in tonight, Michael?” He asked. Sackface shook his head.

Soon after they were back in the cornfield, The panic Sackface felt evaporated as he was secured back into his stake. The knots were sloppier, leaving more space for birds to get in, but as the heavy burlap was wrapped around his head he didn’t care.

The old man left, and Sackface sighed in content as he looked over the vast, dark field.