The Straw Man, Cometh

The Straw Man, Cometh

He hung in a field far away from it all. Within the straw man's shell no blood vessels were ever housed to carry the required nutrients or the cellular necessities of life. Nerve endings to transport the sensations of pain, love, or thought were not a component of the inanimate caverns of his being . Long ago, Marne was stuffed with wilted straw and the vile remnants from the field. His clothes are the tattered hand-me-downs of three generations. To the world that passes Marne by, he appears insignificant to the grand scheme. The black crow, still resting in the hollow of his hat brim and nibbling on the wisps of yarn fashioned as hair, is wise enough to fear the straw man.

Behind the glass sockets embedded in the Marne's straw face an evil lurks. To passersby it is an unknowing stare of blank unseeing eyes, but the raven can sense the cold, blackened soul of the bogeyman. The sleek ebony crow is the chosen emissary for the scarecrow's darkness. The bird lingers in his carved out haven for orders of dispatch to unleash the coming chaos. Marne, once crafted to frighten the crows away, now commands them.

Raphael had been raised on the farm. He had come to know the generations that had passed, and the young ones born. His skin, wrinkled and weathered, spoke of both age and wisdom. A light of goodness sparkled in the man's blue eyes. A lifetime of hard work had bent his frame but not his kind spirit. For years, he used his farm to feed the community. He gave freely of deed and effort. Never had Ralph, as he was known to the locals, met a person to disparage or harm. Grace guided him all the days of his life. But his bones were starting to ache and he could feel the chill of the breeze blowing. He now feared the scarecrow that he had played beside as a child. Ralph had fond memories of the once smiling sack of straw. His heart hurt because the man knew those days were long gone. The trumpets of 2020 were calling. Raphael must answer a call to goodness.


Marne wasn't always evil. There was a time when the scarecrow just did the job he was built to do. Occasionally, he traveled to the flea market with the family nailed to the back of a produce cart. There were times when the family refreshed and renewed his attire. He sported a monocle and corncob pipe for a short while. Sometimes, the straw man, propped on a post for pictures, enjoyed the laughter of children playing for Halloween festivities. Marne was oblivious to the alterations of his existence until the year of 2020.Good and evil were pitted for battle, and a simple scarecrow hanging in a field was consumed by the devil's soul.

As the New Year dawned, sirens of the straw man's coming were dispersed. Fires raged. COVID was birthed. Hornet's invaded. Hurricanes seethed. Bias ravaged. Hatred breached. Empathy expired. Humanity surrendered.

And the moon shall raise full and high in the night sky. The slithering creatures of the soil will erupt, the beasts on the earth shall rampage, and the winged raptors shall darken the sky in their flight. The seas shall cascade over their shores. The earth shall stand still in its orbit, granting a momentary stoppage of time. Just as it was written long ago by Nostradamus and penned in the pages of the good book the beginning of the end shall come to pass. Chaos shall rein supreme as the raven heralds his coming.

Marne hangs in a field far away from it all. His once painted face is tarnished and worn. He waits with the crow by his side. On Hallow's eve of 2020, the night of the dead, at the appointed hour, Marne, the simple scarecrow, will rise like the moon. Where will you be when the Straw Man, cometh and the revelations unfold?

And you thought it was just a scarecrow!

Word Count 630