Hidden Camera

This feels like a prank, either that or I’m being paranoid but every time I walk by a scarecrow in this maze, it whacks me on the head with a branch.

Is it mechanically operated? Is it supposed to whack someone on the head every time they walks by?

“Okay,” I tell myself quietly, “the next scarecrow hits me’s gonna get it.”

Around the corner, a scarecrow stands tall, facing me. He wears plaid shirt, vest, a sunflower on its chest, and a blue scarf. I pause and glare at the scarecrow before sprinting past. I didn’t get whacked. “Okay, maybe I’m just paranoid.”

I stop and walk toward the scarecrow until I’m within touching distance, staring up at its nylon face while watching the sunflower turn toward me and before I can react, a stream of water sprays me in the face. I shriek and back away. “What the hell?”

“Gotcha!” A man runs out from out of nowhere with a camera crew. “You’re on Gotcha!, the hidden camera show…” I punch him.

(~174 words)

This story was originally published on June 29, 2016.

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, a flash fiction challenge hosted by Priceless Joy from 2015-2019. In this prompt, we are challenged to write a piece between 100 and 150 words (more or less 25 words) using the photo prompt given.