One heck of a good short story.
[a short story by Sha’Tara]
I’m thinking about those scarecrows alone out there in the fields of yore, abandoned to the extremes of winter storms, half buried under snow drifts, no birds to speak to, to speak of. Must be pretty lonely, huh?
Yes, it is quite lonely. I happen to be one of them. The one thinking of scarecrows also.
The last wagon with the last team, wallowing under a heavy load of straw rolled past some weeks ago now. It didn’t stop to pick me up. I don’t blame it. Or the horses for not stopping. It was late, getting dark and horses cold and hungry. As were the people, the makers, the creators, those strange creatures that try…
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