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// Thursday, October 20, 2011


      It was an unusually warm and dry Fall, and the scarecrow in the cornfield was sweating up a storm.

      "What I wouldn't give for a little rain, or a cool breeze, or even a cold rolling fog," said the scarecrow in a sad, soft voice.

      "My straw is baked and brittle, my colorful patches are cracked and dull, and my hat is covered with stalagmites of crow pooh.

      "Rain, oh, rain, why have you forsaken me? WHY???"

      A heartbeat later, the clear blue sky turned a deep green-gray, angry anvil clouds appeared out of thin air, and a bellowing twister, as black as coal with tendrils of lightning, touched down...right on top of the scarecrow.

      After a few moments of swirling fury, the storm streaked into the horizon, and disappeared.

      As tranquil blue reclaimed the sky, a murder of crows surveyed the cornfield for damage.

      To their surprise, the only damage that could be seen was a small, bare patch of earth where the scarecrow had been staked.

      The End

© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.

This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.