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Guardian of The Cornfield
It was a cold warmish day in the fall. The leaves were now changing to their new colors, and beginning their hectic decent from their mother tree. It was fall, and fall is a season of change.
On the back country roads of Huntsville, there walked a boy. His name was Johnny Green. Johnny was walking home from school, in a slightly sour mood. It had been the first day of school, and that meant no more vacation, it meant nine grueling months of â€˜reading, â€˜riting, and â€˜rithmitic.
Each slow hard step become easier for Johnny to take, this was because each step was taking the boy closer to home. So with a back pack slung on his shoulder, the weight of five fresh textbooks bearing down on his little back, Johnny made his way down the country roads.
As he went on, Johnny started to whistle his version of â€˜Hey Jude’ to himself. â€˜Hey Jude’ was one of Johnny’s favorite songs, he was made fun of at school for liking such old music, but Johnny did not care. To him, the music of yesterday bested the so called â€˜music’ of today that blared out of the speakers with the uncomprehensible lyrics.
Then the whistling made its way into a slow, and steady song. Johnny’s medium level voice crooning, “Hey Jude. Don’t make it bad, take a sad song and make it better. Remember, to let her into your heart, then you can start, to make it better...”
Johnny liked â€˜Hey Jude’ in particular because it was an encouraging song, unlike the mainstream music that everyone at school blasted with its mostly negative attitude words and attitude. â€˜Hey Jude’ was encouraging, and since Johnny knew he wasn’t in a good mood, he thought â€˜Hey Jude’ would be best for him right now.
With those lyrics, he sung all his cares away, all his worries, all his bad thoughts, he sung out everything. Each time Johnny sung the song, he felt something, something real, Johnny felt free.
The country road was now dissolving into a dirt path, this now meant that Johnny would eventually have to journey in the woods, for there is where his house resided. Johnny’s pace picked up, he was going to be at his house within ten minutes. He couldn’t wait, he wanted to lie down badly, the walk from school to home was so long.
The light from the sun was dimming. Wildlife was bustling, Johnny knew that he must get home before the creatures of the night started to appear. Yet his stride came to a halt. He just wanted to pause one moment, he wanted to have one silent moment to himself. Was that too much to ask the rest of the world?
Little Johnny inhaled the crisp, fall air, then let it out in a smooth exhale. He loosed his mind, he dared to let it go, it could roam freely now, away from everything.
“CAW!” Crowed a crow.
Johnny’s moment was interrupted. He looked up. On the electric wires,( no, more like coating the electric wires) were crow’s. Hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. In a little boy’s mind, it is hard to judge great numbers.
The black birds stared at him, their eyes of tar bore into him, studying every detail of him, they seemed to know his every thought. And there they stood, the boy, and the crows, waiting to see what the other would do.
Then, one single crow fluttered down with a few beats of its wings. The bird hopped its way over to Johnny’s feet. It let out a, “CAW!” Then beat its wings again to lift itself onto Johnny’s shoulder.
It moved its head robotic like, as most birds tend to do. It was almost comical, the crow, and the boy. But then the crow pecked the boy on his shoulder. Your solid, standard peck, hard enough to draw a few drops of blood.
“Ouch!”Cried the boy. “What was that for?”
The bird did not give an answer, but just flew back to its original place on the electric wire. The boy shrugged, then started to take a step forward, this was met with the objective voice of the crows. “CAW! CAW! CAW!”
“What?” The boy questioned. “Can I not take a step?”
Johnny took one complete step. This time, the crows did not object. Johnny gazed to left, then to his right, the crows were everywhere. They were not only the electric wires anymore, they were on the trees, they were on both sides of the road. One crow even sat upon a stalk of corn that belonged to the cornfield of Farmer Maggot. Now Johnny dared to think that now there might be hundreds of thousands of crows. It scared the boy. What did they want with him?
He took off in a swift sprint, like a roll of thunder the crows leapt off what they were sitting on, and began to fly after the boy. Fast. They came fast. It took all of Johnny’s might to keep a safe distance of maybe two feet away from them. But that was not enough. For soon, strength will run out. Johnny felt sharp nips at his legs, then on at his neck, and one on his head.
Warm blood began to flow from Johnny’s body. This made him run even the harder, he wanted to escape his tormentors. How could he get rid of them? How?
Then he saw it. The cornfield. That might be his only refuge, refuge from these crows of damnation.
He leapt face forward into the cornfield, welcoming it, praying silently that it would drive the crows away. He landed in the corn stalks, hidden from the crows’ view. Good, Johnny thought. Are the gone?
He stood among the stalks to find the answer. The crows. The crows were on the tips of the stalks. They knew that Johnny was down in the stalks, they were not fools. They gave Johnny a look that said, Hello there, sunshine!
But their look soon changed from surprise to a look of lust. A lust for blood. And they dove in on him, as if he were some road kill on the side of the highway.
Johnny fell backwards with his hands in front of his face, at least that would be some form of protection. But the boys effort to protect himself was not enough, for the pecking began again, giving the crows the blood they desired. Johnny wriggled around in the stalks, kicking, slapping, and yelling bloody murder, doing anything to get the crows off him.
Once he got the creatures from hell off him for a moment, he seized it, and ran through the cornfield wildly. Anywhere would do just fine, anywhere away from these crows. He had to get away. He just had to.
Stalk after stalk the bleeding boy passed. He was doing it. He was finally getting away from the crows. He was finally getting away.
“CAW! CAW! CAW!” That cry from the crows shattered Johnny’s faint hope.
It was no use, if he ran, the crows would follow. If he showed himself, the crows would feast on him. If he hid, the crows would wait for him. What could he do? He ran, he might as well, it was better than being pecked to death, and waiting to be pecked to death, so Johnny ran.
He ran into a clearing in the field. And in the clearing, there hung a scarecrow. Johnny ran to it, to hide behind, he was exhausted, in a way, he hid behind it to seek protection from it. He wanted the crows to be gone.
“Oh please!”The boy cried. “Help me!”
The caws of the birds seemed to move closer. The scarecrow that the boy clung to wiggled. Johnny let go of the scarecrow in surprise, would the scarecrow hurt him too? There was no answer to his question.
The scarecrow climbed off the pole he was hung on,(Ever so gently.) He looked strong, the scarecrow did. He glanced at Johnny, his fixed painted on smile reassured the little boy that everything was going to be all right. Johnny smiled back.
The caws were louder.
The scarecrows head whipped around instantly, it wondered what all the racket was about. He saw. For over the tips of the corn stalks came a black cloud. It was a swarm of bloodthirsty crows, that had only one purpose at that time, to kill.
The scarecrow uprooted a corn stalk with one arm, and held it like a scepter, or a sword. The crows were closer. The scarecrow stood fast, ready. Little Johnny watched in awe.
The crows were here. They blanketed the sky. Sunlight was blocked. The crows made everything dark. Crows were everything that Johnny could hear. They were deafening, Johnny covered his ears with his hands to block out the ear piercing cries. The sky was black, just like the will of the crows.
The scarecrow thrust his corn stalk in the air, like he was stabbing something with a blade. There was a silence after this, a dead silence. A single, lonesome crow crashed to the ground, it was dead. Then another. Another. The crows fell from the heavens as a black rain. The scarecrow came to Johnny, and shielded him from being hit by a stray corpse of a crow.
Then the rain of the crows ceased. They were defeated.
Then, a caw of humongous proportion trembled the ground when it was uttered. It made Johnny bend over in pain just by its sheer volume. There was a great wind. The scarecrow searched the sky, something deadly was coming.
Johnny braved a short gaze up, a dark shape blotted the sky. As it came near, Johnny could tell what it was. It was a crow. But this was not an average crow,(No, this one was far larger.) It was like the father of all crows, it was the commander of the demon birds.
It landed ten feet away from the scarecrow and Johnny. It landed with a thick â€˜thud’. Johnny saw in the crow all his fear, in the crow he saw the faces of all the bullies he had ever had, all the evil in the world seemed to be pulsing from that crow.
The scarecrow departed from the boy. With a corn stalk in hand, the scarecrow went to face the dinosaur sized bird. The crow cawed,(No, roared) when it laid eyes on the scarecrow. Johnny could tell that the two had met before, if not in this world, then maybe in another one.
In a grainy voice the scarecrow said, “Why are you here? Why do you soil my land with your presence?”
In reply, a voice emerged from the birds mouth, it was like the voice of Satan himself, “I want the boy, scarecrow. Give me the boy.”
“No. I shall not.”Said the scarecrow. “Get out.”
“Why?”Demanded the colossal bird.
“Or you will die by my hand.” Replied the scarecrow bravely. “The boy is not yours, and he is not mine, he is a free being. If you do not get out of sight, you will lay dead where you stand.”
“Not likely.” The bird boomed.
The bird advanced, ruffling it wings wildly, and snapped, making the air hiss. The scarecrow stood still, not frightened or intimidated by the birds actions. An angry roar came from the crow at this.
“If I cannot kill you scarecrow,” The bird said steaming with hatred. “Then I shall kill the boy.”
The crow jumped towards Johnny, talons and sharps beak froward, aimed to kill. Then two corn stalks were ripped from their roots by an invisible force, and were propelled like spears at the crow. They pierced the monstrous bird in the heart, and in the mid section. The crow fell, huge clouds of dust lifted from where the demonic crow lay. It, the father of the crows, was defeated with its children.
The scarecrow threw its corn stalk aside, and beckoned Johnny to come with it. And by the hand, the scarecrow lead the boy through the leafy stalks of the cornfield, and back to the road where the boy’s mis fortunate day had began. The scarecrow had lead Johnny back to safety, away from the crows.
“Thank you Mr. Scarecrow sir,” Johnny said, hugging the scarecrow. “Thank you.”
The scarecrow embraced the boy in return. Then it pointed in the direction of the road and said in its gruff voice, “Go home.”
Johnny smiled, and headed off to his house. After he was down the road twenty feet or so, he turned and waved to the scarecrow. With a floppy arm filled with hay, the scarecrow waved back farewell.