The Strawman and a Murder
Thomas opened his mouth to thank them, but his mother’s voice cut him off. She was rushing through the stalks of corn with Todd close behind. Dropping to her knees in front of her son, she spotted the welts on his face, and pulled him into her. Todd looked on with tears in his eyes.
Mrs. Bowen, crying, explained that Earl phoned and told them what had happened. When Todd asked where Hunter was, Thomas did not hesitate.
“He said he was leaving… and never coming back.”
Mrs. Bowen hugged her son again, and then Todd took his turn. Finished, they walked through an open path of cornstalks — Thomas in the middle, his mother holding his hand on the right; Todd holding on the left.
~*~
Mrs. Bowen insisted on sitting in the back seat with her son. Backing out of Hunter Bowen’s driveway, Todd wheeled the car around, but stopped before going any further. A crow had landed on the hood of the car; a folded piece of paper was in its beak. A second crow landed soon after — then a third and a fourth.
Todd went to hit the horn, but Thomas shouted his objection. Instead the boy unbuckled his seatbelt and went to open the door. His mother grabbed his arm, but her son’s expression assured her it was alright. He told her they were his friends. She let him go.
Thomas exited the car and approached the crows. They greeted him with quiet clicks and calls, and Thomas gently took the folded piece of paper from the one crow. He opened it and looked at the drawing he had done earlier that day. The one of him and the scarecrow together, their smiling faces side by side — the same drawing he had hid deep inside the straw man’s chest. A solitary piece of straw was stuck to the picture. Thomas smiled, took the straw and tucked it deep into his pocket, then pressed the drawing to his heart. The crows flew off the hood of the car and were soon invisible in the black sky.
Thomas re-entered the car. Stunned, his mother could only stare at her son. Thomas repeated what he had said earlier. “They’re my friends.”
Todd spoke up from the front seat; his tone was warm — a shot at levity. “Thomas, did you know that a group of crows is often called a murder?”
Thomas grinned and said, “Yeah.” He hugged the drawing again.
Jeff Menapace earned his Bachelors Degree in Education from Cabrini College in Radnor, Pennsylvania.
Jeff now resides in the Philadelphia suburbs. He can be reached at jeffmenapace@yahoo.com
I liked the story – good imagery. The end was kind of predictable, but no worse for it.
Well written story. I really felt for poor Thomas. Would love to read more!
What an ending! Not that you couldn’t see it coming that the rotten father was going to meet an untimely end… but the manner and description were clever and chilling indeed. Very entertaining!
Defintely a good story. Had a little bit of everything in it.