In the elegant field, the grass gently shakes its head, as if it will never grow up. The southward flight of the wild geese stirs up a pleasant breeze. Not much, but enough to make the scarecrow dance.
I am a wooden man, or more precisely, a scarecrow. The most silent creature in this field, the birds are afraid of me and dare not chat with me. The grass also does not talk to me because I never respond to them. I don’t know what I should do, but I feel like I am waiting for something, perhaps a wild hurricane to knock me down. Or maybe a lost rain that crashes into my body, making my cheeks slightly damp.
I never cry. The wind says I am not sentimental enough, never sad. So they often come in waves, arriving and leaving, never lingering.
This is enough to prove my dullness, I think so, but I never admit it.
The arrival of rain makes me feel heavy, my cheeks damp, making the whole person very melancholic, and the wind often pounces on me at this time.
But I think, when the rain comes, the wind leaves again.
When the rain came, it told me a sad story that it learned while traveling in a small town.
The rain said, having lived more than half a life, it discovered that perhaps the little girl is the most pitiful creature in the world. She was abandoned by the boy, who told her this face to face.
The boy said, “I’m going to a faraway place, goodbye, you have to take good care of yourself, and don’t wait for me, I may never come back, don’t ask me other questions, I really can’t answer them.”
The little girl rushed to hug the boy, but he pushed her away. The boy turned his head, biting his lip, trembling slightly. But he still irresponsibly walked away.
He might have cried, but his face was all rainwater, and I really couldn’t tell if there were tears.
The little girl really cried, sitting on the ground, crying loudly in confusion. That feeling was as if she had lost the whole world.
The rain patted her shoulder, wanting to hold her tightly.
The boy quietly left the small town the next morning, leaving a letter for his parents on the table. The envelope was beautiful, with a lovely field and a smiling scarecrow in the sunshine.
The boy left very early; I bet no one saw that thin and determined figure except for the cat that got up early to pee and me…
Later, the boy's parents kept looking for him. Later, the girl regained her smile. Later, the boy's parents left the small town. Later, the town's doctor whispered with moist eyes, “What a pity, such a sensible little boy, but what can be done?”
Later, the rain left the small town, surprisingly finding that it had gained a lot of weight since it arrived.
When the rain got to this point, it stopped, seeming quite sad too.
The sun smiled again, practicing with the grass, telling them to work hard and not catch a cold.
But I seem to have caught a cold; the rain has moved into my body, and I begin to change. The comical way the grass bends over makes me laugh.
A long-lost smile, this is what the sun said to me when it saw me smile.
I know I haven’t smiled in a long time. Since that scruffy man cried and rolled on the ground in front of me, he told me how nice it would be to become a scarecrow, loved by no one, yet loved by everyone, standing expressionlessly without any worries.
That afternoon, I promised the man to exchange souls with him, agreeing to bear all the sadness and remain expressionless forever. I thought, well, I am just a scarecrow anyway. The man said he would always smile and live vigorously, and then he left.
The boy never came back; I think he might have met his parents who had been looking for him all along, and met that little girl who had hurt him, promising each other to be well always.