June 2009 – Of Warmth, Of Dragons

The crows were not afraid of the scarecrow. Maybe the first day or two after it had been erected they steered clear of it, but as soon as Thomas Bowen started smuggling bread outside to feed them, and as soon as Thomas began his habitual chats with his best and only friend — the once imposing straw man — the crows were never wary again.

The feeding of the crows was therapeutic for Thomas. It gave him the delight of watching the black birds soar and dive like toy planes as they plucked the pieces of bread he tossed from the air, and it allowed him time to think — of what he and his straw friend would talk about that day. It mattered little whether it was new territory or old that they covered; it had all been discussed before. He had told the scarecrow about the kids at school who bullied him; the teachers who told him his drawings were a waste of time; the unfair judge who wouldn’t let him live with his mother because of what she had done with Todd. And of course, the alcoholic father he was forced to live with who was relentless with his verbal and physical abuse.

Before each chat, Thomas would present his straw friend with a drawing. Today’s was a brilliant black and white sketch of the boy and scarecrow: a close-up of their smiling faces, their heads tilted and leaning on one another — the sketch easily on par with any competent teen’s as opposed to the ten year old boy who drew it.

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