The ScarecrowDonald Illich
If the scarecrow promises not to believe in crows, will the non-existent birds leave him alone? Or will they find clever disguises – a drunken farmer, a cute milkmaid, a lonely cow – that will destroy his oath when they shed their skins to reveal mortal enemies ready to pull him apart? He’s not taking chances. He’s hired a few hawks to swoop down on strangers who refuse to give IDs, valuable licenses of reality only available to creatures that aren’t in storybooks, baked in pies, turned into princes, riding shoulders of witches searching fields for straw stuffed clothes thinking they’re human, real enough to hear wind pin back the ears of corn.
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