Grafton Globe Newspaper
Winter 2020 Edition
It was on a cold day, in the ides of a beautiful October’s month, that there stood a lonesome scarecrow, gazing into the warm shades of autumn that embraced the otherwise drab scene; crimson apples hung gloriously upon the branches of green-leafed trees, appearing, at present, to be their only true ornament that remained. The birds had since departed, leaving but the sounds of a bitter wind that blew relentlessly through the thinning landscape, slowly taking away the picturesque beauty that remained. Many did, however, find this to be entirely endearing, as it was a sight so lovely it could not withstand an eternity, and, therefore, never grew to be so wonted that it could seldom impress any.
They came rather often, few bearing cameras, while others carried brushes that would paint an image of which should soon become no more than a tale that may be told simply in image, for words would only steal from it the better half of its glory, replacing it with a familiarity, of which could allow the greatest of difference to sound as though it were nearly the same. There was not the invigoration of that brisk chill, of which allowed one no true promise of life, nor an earnest sensation of not merely survival, but of living. How must any thrill be expected to prosper in a tale many should consider to be most terribly idle? But, the scarecrow remained, watching with great contentment the wonders of those who found a life in that barren existence, and nearly mourning those who simply spectated that which stood before them, crying out remarks that would merely echo off the mountain scattered horizon. How he did pity those who could remain forever in the company of a marvelous grandeur, finding it only be entirely necessary that they justify its means with but the most proven of reason, pushing aside the mere basis of pleasure it provoked within. “Something so momentarily exquisite mustn’t be allowed such pondering,” thought he, “for if one should place any thought at all on the matter, only will it vanish before they can so much adore it for the mere sake of admiration.” Such wisdom did appear to be a rather dreadful curse, as it allowed him not the chance to spectate without thought, but only to analyze so candidly that he found none other than an insincerity in all about. Most cared not of the landscape until it was to be filled with the vibrant shades of orange and red, which they seldom recognized to be a most beautiful end to the life that stood in its otherwise ordinary company. Only did they see the birth of a new wonder, far different from the last, in which the scarecrow did not dare acknowledge, for only would it have been a sincere betrayal to his mind and the thoughts held within its confounded being. Perchance, it was only so that this was no end, or, perhaps, to believe such folly was only in their nature, and they cherished but an idle optimism. Little did this matter, however, for it simply could alter not the lonesome existence he suffered in that thinning landscape, and, although it was rather often that there came visitors, they were seldom of anything more than a presence, unfit to be so much named company. They cared not to acknowledge his presence beyond a swift glance or an abrupt remark, but only to stand and frolic about in their own idle cause and false adventure. It was, however, on a desolate autumn’s afternoon, when the leaves had since departed, and the whistling wind turned only to a deathlike chill, there appeared but the slightest of hope for that poor lonesome scarecrow, whom had only sat hopelessly in the presence of an evanescing company for several months. There was, at last, placed beside him a companion of great likeness in kind, as she was, indeed, made only of straw. It was in that moment that he found no longer but a desolate imagery about, but rather a presence, of which appeared to hold the wonderful capability to substitute the loss he’d suffered; the silenced melodies of the birds, the departure of the glistening sun’s gentle embrace, and the lovely sensation of true company that only now returned. As all around withered away in the bitter winter’s chill, they stood upon the frozen hill, gazing the glory of all about, and awaiting the sweetness of a spring’s awakening. The End.
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Grafton Globe NewspaperStudent created articles in a student run digital newspaper. CategoriesArchives
February 2020
CategoriesHumans of Grafton High |