HAY BAGGINS

Suddenly, there was a spot of brilliance amid them that was not one of their own. This glowing essence hadn’t any corporeal substance and had come concealed in a moonbeam to flit about with the fireflies. It zigged and zagged about with the fireflies as if it too were dancing the tag ballet. Up and down, and all around, it went until finally it zoomed into the barn. There it buzzed about through the horse stalls and out the tack room door, then up to the hayloft, before finally hovering over the workbench and over the body of the scarecrow boy it loomed! The essence floated above the hay and burlap face as though examining it but then as if it had made a decision it slowly lighted upon the forehead. Then in a split second it had passed through the burlap and the whole scarecrow child began to glow. His painted wide open eyes immediately blinked several times. He gasped and shuddered! His little chest heaved as he took in a deep breath of air. And then he sat up! “Wow!” he shouted, “I’m alive!” Excited, he jumped from the workbench where he was born, and fell in a heap on the dirt floor. He was totally startled at falling on his face but realized he’d have to take things a little slower. After all, even though he was as big as a twelve-year-old boy, he really was just an infant yet. It was then that he was startled by a whinny laugh and a raspy voice. “Wheeeeheheheha! Well now! What do we have here?” exclaimed the horse in the first stall, “a bag of hay trying to jump up and run away?” And with that old Horace the Horse let out another of his grating laughs. “Wheeeeheheheha!” “Oh, be nice, Horace! You can see he’s just a child!” came the soft but stern, and yet ladylike admonishment from Horace’s mate, Marie the Mare. “A child?” shouted Horace disbelieving his ears, and added, “Marie, it’s a bag of hay dressed in Luke Jr.’s clothes!” Marie shook her head and snorted with disgust at her mate’s insensitivity. “He’s a scarecrow boy, Horace, and he’s as new as a fresh born colt!”