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|The Black Pointy Hat (youngsters:fantasy, 2141 words)|
|Author: Ian Hobson||Added: Sep 13 2007||Views/Reads: 4016/1671||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Not that the scarecrow minded how he looked; he was, after all, just a scarecrow, without a single thought in his head...|
The Black Pointy Hat ©2007 Ian Hobson The wizard was having a bad day. He was a grumpy old wizard and he'd gone out for a walk on a sunny morning only to be caught in a rain shower. Then, as he turned back towards home, the rain stopped and out came the sun again. He stood for a moment at the edge of the village where he lived, not knowing what to do for the best, when suddenly a gust of wind came and blew off his hat. 'Drat and tarnation!' he shouted as he raced back along the lane after his hat. But the gust of wind had lifted his hat high into the air. It was a tall black, pointy hat, and the wind had got inside it and sent it whizzing over the fields and over the treetops, like a kite with no string. But eventually the hat came tumbling to earth and landed on a scarecrow's head. The scarecrow was quite old, having stood in the same field for almost three years, and he was looking rather the worse for wear. His head was made from an old sack stuffed with straw, his eyes, nose and mouth were buttons, and he wore an old coat and a pair of old trousers that had once belonged to the farmer, and his feet were just an old pair of rubber boots. Not that the scarecrow minded how he looked; he was, after all, just a scarecrow, without a single thought in his head. Or, at least, he was until the wizard's hat fell from the sky and landed on it; for the hat had a magic all of its own. To the scarecrow it was like waking from a deep sleep. He yawned and stretched, which wasn't difficult because his arms were held, stuck out straight at each side of his body, by a thick garden cane that had been threaded through the sleeves of his coat. But when he tried to take a step forward, he couldn't because he was nailed to a wooden post. 'Why am I here?' he asked himself out loud. 'And who am I? And what am I?' Suddenly a crow came swooping down out of the sky and landed on the scarecrow's right arm. The crow lived in a nearby tree and would often come and sit on the scarecrow's arm, for he knew that the scarecrow was nothing but a pile of old clothes stuffed with straw, though he wondered where the black pointy hat had come from. 'Get away!' said the scarecrow, turning his head and speaking in a voice so loud he almost frightened himself. And the crow, having had the fright of his life, leapt into the air and went flying back to his nest. 'Well that scared him,' said the scarecrow, suddenly realising that scaring crows was his purpose in life. 'So that's what I am', he said, with new-found insight. 'I'm a scarecrow.' And then, at the top of his voice, he shouted it out loud, 'I'm a scarecrow! I'm a scarecrow!' and all the birds in the nearby trees took to the air in fright. But one bird was not frightened. This bird was an owl, and she was very wise; and while the other birds were flying away over the treetops, she came swooping down to investigate. 'My, my,' she said as she landed in the field in front of the scarecrow, 'a talking scarecrow, whatever next?' 'Why are you not scared?' the scarecrow asked, looking down into the bird's big round eyes. 'Why should I be?' replied the owl. 'I'm an owl not a crow, and you're just a sack of straw nailed to a post; though that's a strange looking hat you are wearing. Where did you get it from?' The owl swivelled her head, first left then right, as she looked up at the hat, suddenly remembering where she had seen one just like it. The scarecrow, realising for the first time that he was wearing a hat, tried to reach for it, but with his arms still held stiff by the garden cane, he couldn't. 'I don't know where I got it from,' he said. 'There's more to that hat than meets the eye,' observed the owl. And, with that, she took to the air and flew away. Click here to read the rest of this story (169 more lines)
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