Scarecrow Boy

1756 The Field

The field stretches on for miles, short and trimmed so that the whole horizon is visible. The sun is red, a big bold circle. And underneath the rays of blood-stained light is a house. It's not ordinary. The roof is pointy, turrets reaching up into the sky. The shingles are crow black and fading into white. The chimney pots are skinny and black, they stick powerfully out of the roof's crow-black shingles. The bricks of the house are thin and stuffed together tightly, not a smudge of mortar is visible. The sky is light grey and creaseless, the shadows of crows are dark and smeared across the horizon.

The world seems blank. Except for the house that sits in the distance. My head is empty, whenever a thought appears, it fades away like waves on a sandy shore. Then it appears again. But not long enough for me. The world is moving too fast or too slow. And I am stuck in the middle.

1766 The Sky

I am dead now. And I have been for nine years. But I remember that moment. My hands sprawled on the mud. Tears flooding from my face. My cheeks red as ripe beet. But I couldn't understand. The pain that consumed me. It was all hard to comprehend and it felt like my life had finished or had it just started?

1756 The Field

I had walked West. I knew that because it was the opposite of the sun that napped on the sharp point of the black bricked gable. And it kept going, brown grass underneath my feet for miles. Never stopping. There was no dew or little black bugs that sit on the blades of brown grass. There was no wet mud in empty damp spots. It was just wheat-brown grass spaced out perfectly. I had walked East and it was the same. And North and that was identical to the rest just with a slight chill in the air. But there was nothing. So I turned around and came back to the only place where there was something. The house.

1766 The Sky

The feeling was like falling. And I know that now. Like falling into the dark and never stopping. Never hitting a rock or the bottom. Just endless falling. And death was the bottom that I was begging to reach.

1756 The Field

The steps are creaky, dark wooden tiles hammered together. Screws stick awkwardly out of small holes. I place my bare feet on the smooth spots, avoiding the little pieces of wood that stick straight up. The steps are long and lead to a smooth black porch. The porch leads to the house. And the screws come back, I watch as little pieces of wood push themselves into my feet, tears threatening to fall out of my eyes. My breaths are paced because everytime a volt of pain shoots up into me like crackling electricity, I feel like I want to stop breathing. I look up into the parlor; the sofas are big covered in purple velvet. My steps are slow as I stumble to the carpet. Then I feel it. My foot feels numb and now my emotions are naked. I scream; my yells echo in the parlor. As I watch blood pour out, dark red and sticky, I fall onto the ground, cradling my hot foot in my hand. A sharp end of the screw is sticking out of the top of my foot. I scream so loud that the whole house shakes. And I feel helpless. In the endless world, blood spilling on the floor, falling into between the wooden tiles and staining the white tassels that rim the grapefruit colored rug.

1766 The Sky

That was pain. And I felt like I had never felt it before. It was piercing like a blade to to the neck.

1756 The Field

By the time I was out of the parlor, the embroidered cushions were soaked in red, ripped pieces or rug scattered the dark wood floor. My foot looked looked white as a blank piece of paper. All the blood drained out of me. I felt dizzy as I stumbled up the stair, gripping the railing. Silent screams echo in my head.

The upstairs is silent. Wind whistles eerily. The windows are wide open so I can see the whole field below. From here it looks brown like a sheet of construction paper. I feel cold air on my back, every second another gust chills my neck. Causing goosebumps to sprout up like bamboo. I turn around. There is nothing there. I feel another exhale of air and turn around at the speed of light and there is a blue reflection in the mirror behind me. The body is painted, each stroke masterful and soft like rose petals. Each one of her fingers is the size of a grain of rice and her eyes are big and tearful like big raindrops.

She doesn't talk. I stare obliviously. She nods her head. I nod back. I rosy color spreads across the top of her transparent cheeks. I nod again. She doesn't do a thing. Just stares. I stare back. It feels like hours. Years even. Our eyes are connected. And the whistles of the wind sing like bluebirds.

1766 The Sky

I miss her. I really do. It was the first time I felt like that. Felt so powerful and weak at the same time. Hung on the one thing. Dependent. In the endless field, where there was no life.

1756 The Field

I sat on the field, my face burried in the brown grass. The petal in my hand - it was pink before she touched it. Light and cheerful bright pink. But when she touched it, it withered quickly, losing its color. Losing its life. She dropped it in my hand and backed away. As if she didn't want to touch me. It sits in my hand as wrinkled as an old man's skin.

The sun slowly drops into the horizon like a red ball falling to the ground. The world instantly turns black like someone turning off a light switch. And my eyes suddenly close and I can't help it.

Morning comes quickly, before I know it, the world is the same. Same grey sky. Same bold red sun. Same endless field. In front of me are a pair of eyes like raindrops. The girl. They are not intimidatingly close. They are fair, two blue dots in the distance. I get up and wave. She nods, the same pink blooming on the top of her cheeks. She gives me another flower petal, blowing it off her hand. It lands gently in mine, this time it is a light purple. Shrivelled like a dry grape.

Her lips start moving. She is mouthing something.

"Kell?" I ask, nodding my head.

She shakes her head.

"Ellen." I make out, piecing the movements together.

She smiles. It is like a sunset, slow and sweet. Nothing less than the real sunset, even better.

1766 The Sky

After nightfall it began. That day. And I can't talk about it. Because it was a roller coaster. A peak at the top, then a rocket bottom. And I never went to the top again.

1756 The Field

Today when I wake up, she gives me two petals, one stone blue, it breaks in my hand. And the other one is yellow, cracks indented in the middle and fraying on the edges. I lean into hug her, but she leaps backwards. I stare at her, confused. She nods. I stare. I smile thank you, and her her cheeks sprout blush. She sits down next to me, keeping her distance. Her body is more transparent as if it fading away by day. Like hot water evaporating. Her hands are just irregular rectangles; I can't see hear fingers or her nails. When she looks to side, I kiss her on the cheek. I rapidly turn away, every muscle in me numbing. I have never felt this way about a person. But, her smile is alarming. Happy at first, then I see her mouth. Her lips form silent screams and tears erupt from her eyes like a volcano. I shrivel up and disintegrate like the flower petals she touched. I cry because there is nothing else I can do. Because I have lost someone that I loved. That is all I feel for a couple of seconds. And then the world goes dark.

1766 The Sky

Her name was Ellen. Ellen. Her name is etched in my head, written in permanent marker. And it will stay in my head for centuries. Until the world ends. I look above, blue skies. Below, blue skies. And I stuck again. I haven't quite reached the bottom and when I do, I will see Ellen. And that is all that matters.