B is for...

Bubak

“Owww,” he grumbled as the bone needle stabbed his finger. The wind picked up the sound, turning it into a chilling howl of the night. He rose his finger to his mouth and sucked before returning to the task. Once finished sewing the garment he shook it out and grinned at his handy work. The long coat glimmered beneath the full moon, gleaming white with threads of silver. It looked good new, but it would gradually fade into a patchwork of black and greys.

That's how he preferred it.

All that was needed was one last piece, one final soul to finish the work.

“Come on, it's over here.”

He froze at the sound of voices and the dark place within him danced with glee. He stuffed the Soul Garment into a chest at the foot of his post and scurried back up it. Hanging himself across the large t-shaped piece of wood and stared across the field, searching.

“Where the hell is this thing?”

“Old Man McCormack put the Scarecrow in the center of the field, look, you can see the light from it's Jack-o-lantern head.”

“Damn, that things creepy.”

Perfect, they would make excellent additions to his coat.