The Scarecrow

In a boundless cornfield, there was a beautiful scarecrow. She protected the corn field from birds day and night. All the crows were scared of her hair that swept like whips when the wind blew by, except for one crow. He wasn’t scared of the scarecrow, in fact, he had fallen in love with her. One day, when the night was as dark as the crow’s feathers, he dared to stand on the scarecrow’s hat. He gently combed the scarecrow’s long hair. 

“Who is it?” Asked the scarecrow.

“I’m the nightingale from the farest pine tree and I’m at your service, Ms. Scarecrow.” Answered the crow.

“No, you can’t be a nightingale. Your voice is so husky.” Said the scarecrow.

“I know. It’s a shame that I foolishly ate the poisonous berries beside the lake and they destroyed my sweet voice. If you feel disturbed, I will go and leave you with your tranquility.” Said the crow.

“Oh, no, please stay, poor nightingale. The cornfield under the moonlight is dazzlingly beautiful, isn’t it?” Said the scarecrow.

So the crow and the scarecrow spent a lovely night together. 

The next day the scarecrow was suffering from the harassment of a flock of crows. At night, the crow who had pretended to be a nightingale reappeared.

“Good evening , Ms. Scarecrow. Look at these baby corn! They are growing so well under your protection. When do you think they will be ready?” Said the crow.

“It will be faster than you expect, but it will also be slower than you imagine.” Said the scarecrow.

“Isn’t it just like love?” Said the crow.

“Is it? Corns will always mature eventually, but love does not.” Said the scarecrow.

“Oh yeah?” Said the crow.

“Yeah, and the cornfield under the moonlight is dazzlingly beautiful, isn’t it?” Said the scarecrow.

So the crow and the scarecrow spent another lovely night together.

The next day the scarecrow was exhausted because of two flock of crows that had been harassing her. At night, the crow who wasn’t a nightingale came again. 

“I mean no harm by saying this, but my dear Ms. Scarecrow, you look wan and sallow tonight.” Said the crow.

“The number of crows is increasing. There’s more of them now.” Said the scarecrow.

“Is that so? How many are there now?” Said the crow.

“It doesn’t matter. I will do my best.” Said the scarecrow.

“I apologise for the rude question, but why is this cornfield so important to you?” Asked the crow.

“Because it’s our everything.” Said the scarecrow.

“Our?” Asked the crow.

“The farmer. I belong to him and he gives his beloved cornfield to me. The bigger the cornfield is, the deeper our love is.” Said the scarecrow.

“wakakakakakaka, the sixty-year-old man?! If I were you, I would rather go with the red-haired boy that comes here every summer.” Said the crow with his horrible laughter.

“You are drunk, Mr. Nightingale. Is the cornfield under the moonlight too dazzlingly beautiful for you?” Said the scarecrow.

The very next day the scarecrow was worn out because of three flock of crows that had been harassing her. At night, the crow who claimed to be a nightingale didn’t show up. Just when the scarecrow was wondering if the nightingale would come that night, a big black crow landed on the cornfield in front of the scarecrow.

“The cornfield under the moonlight is dazzlingly beautiful, isn’t it?” Said the crow.

“You are a big liar! You are not a nightingale! I knew it! Leave, now!!!” Said the scarecrow angrily.

“I don’t want the corn from the farmer. What I want is you.” Said the crow, and moved one step closer to the scarecrow.

“I will never be yours. I belong to him!” Said the scarecrow

“Then I will have to take you away from him by force!” Said the crow.

The crow tried to grab the scarecrow with his sharp claws. He flapped his wings so hard that the feathers were flying away in the air. The scarecrow’s hat flew away and her hair got messy. Her face was scratched and her clothes were tear apart. Her hay was exposed and fell all over the place. She was in pain and frightened. The unusual sound in the cornfield drew the attention of the farmer. Little did the crow know that when he was about to pick the scarecrow up from the ground, the farmer would chop his head off. As calm as dead water, the farmer picked up the remains of the scarecrow and the dead body of the crow and took them to the barn. Under the orange dim light, the farmer took out a pretty white dress and stuffed it with the hay that had sucked in the blood of the crow. He put the gloves and the boots back on the body and stitched the two shiny dark-blue buttons on her new face. He dipped his fingers in some crow blood and drew a big warm smile on the scarecrow. Finally, he put the hat back on the scarecrow. And he took out an old photo from his chest pocket. It was a beautiful blue-eyed lady dressing in white with a big hat. He hugged the scarecrow tightly and whispered to her.

“The cornfield under the moonlight is dazzlingly beautiful, isn’t it?”