By Nichole Hoffmann and Joel Pierson
Ten-year-old Jake was a lonely child. Everybody knew it, but nobody seemed to have the time to do much about it. After his parents divorced, Jake went to live with his grandparents on their property, five acres off of Creamer Road on the outskirts of Nashville, Indiana. The move from Indianapolis to rural Brown County was jarring for Jake. Already very shy, he lost touch with what few friends he had in the city, and country kids lived too far away to visit.
You’d think that having grandparents all to himself would at least give Jake some company, and it did — to a point. But Grandpa was so hard of hearing that it was very difficult to have a conversation. Grandma was always tinkering in the family garage, working with medicinal plants and oils and stuff that Jake didn’t really understand.
When he wasn’t at school or doing his homework, Jake mostly puttered around the property, looking for something to do, and more importantly, someone to talk to. One dreary Thursday in late October, he stopped to look at Grandma’s garden. Most of the plants had been harvested. All that was left was a sad-looking scarecrow. Jake watched as a group of crows perched on the low garden fence. Two even landed on the scarecrow itself.
Jake laughed. “Not very good at your job, are you?”
The scarecrow, being stuffed with hay, said nothing. And yet, the wind blew across the straw man almost as if it was nodding. Discouraged, Jake sighed and went to find his grandma in her garage.
“Hey, kiddo, how are you?” Grandma asked.
“I’m bored, Grandma. I just don’t have any friends here.”
“Just give it time. You might be surprised where friends find you. In the meantime, would you help me with my chores?”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“Well, it would help me a lot if you fed the crows for me every day.”
“The crows?” he asked, surprised.
“Don’t worry, they won’t bite. Just feed ’em away from the garden. Their food is in a pail by the cellar door.”
Twice a day, Jake would feed the crows and then stop and talk to the scarecrow. On the fifth day, he saw something shiny at the scarecrow’s feet. He bent down to pick it up and saw that it was an earring. He brought it to Grandma. “I found this outside. What is it?”
She got a faraway look. “I haven’t seen that earring in years!” He tried to hand it to her, but she said, “You keep it. It has an amethyst in it, and that’s good luck. You hold on to it.”
Jake stuck his new treasure carefully in his pocket as a crow cawed up in a tree. “Thanks, Grandma!” He headed back out to the garden. There he pulled out the earring and showed it to the scarecrow. “Look what I got!” Then he stopped. Was it the wind, or did that sad old scarecrow nod at him again? A wild thought came to Jake. “Did you bring this to me?” The idea was so crazy, Jake had to laugh. “Like you could bring me presents! See ya later, Mr. Scare-No-Crows.”
Day after day, Jake continued to find presents left for him. Some shiny, some strange, but always there at the foot of the scarecrow. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Somehow, old Mr. Scare-No-Crows had decided to be his friend. That’s the only thing that made sense.
On the tenth day, after feeding the crows, Jake decided to hide and watch the garden. He had stayed home from school that day with a sore throat, and this was his chance to see the scarecrow in action. He watched and he waited. The scarecrow nodded with the wind, with a gleam in those button eyes of his. Jake was sure he’d found his secret friend. But then, he saw something totally unexpected — the crows flew to the garden with his grandpa’s pocket watch and set it down at the feet of the scarecrow!
Jake hurried over, astonished. The crows formed a circle, cawing like they were speaking directly to him. “It was you?” he asked. “You’ve been bringing me these things?”
His answer came from Grandma behind him. “Crows like to bring presents. By feeding them, you’ve become their friend, and these shiny things are their gifts to you. Like I said, you might be surprised where friends find you.”
About the authors
Nichole Hoffmann, a former resident of Brown County, is a retired marketing executive who now lives in Bloomington and spends her time painting.
Joel Pierson is the owner of a small book editing business and the author of the six-volume Messenger Series of novels. A Bloomington resident, he is the proud papa of four wonderfully sweet dogs.
For their third-place winning story, Hoffman and Pierson will receive a certificate and share a $50 prize.
About the contest: The Brown County Democrat asked readers for their scariest, spookiest Halloween stories, and you scared up some real winners! Links to all the winning entries are below and at the end of each of this year’s winning stories.
Read other winning entries
First place: “Halloween Wildflowers”
Third place: “Mr. Scare-No-Crows”
Honorable mention
