Scarecrow in the garden(david hunsinger) Kitty held her daughter’s hand as she lay before her stricken with fever. She hung her head as the fireplace light dimmed; it had been hours since she fed the fire. Coals only remained, similar to the love in her soul. Two years ago her heart had been on fire with hope of a better life for her and her family.


She thought of the rumors she had heard of this “new Country” and her sweet husband’s face as he spoke of this land of milk and honey. She had encountered none of that thus far. Only death and despair had befallen her family since exiting the ship at Ellis Island. She had crossed the seas with a husband and three children. Now, only a skeleton of her baby girl lay before her, half dead. She wondered if she would survive the night. She had lost her firstborn on the ship over, fallen to some nameless sickness. She could still feel the ship shift under as she watched them dump his body overboard.

She felt her daughter’s hand shift in her grasp, tilting her head up, asking for Papa before passing out once more. Her heart sank further thinking of her foolish husband. He had passed earlier that year in the summer heat; he had taken to drinking after they lost their second oldest to snakebite. He had cried out in pain for three days, and she had begged death to take him than for him to continue to suffer. But his will to live was strong, but not strong enough. He suffered for longer than he should have.

Her husband had died one day while plowing the fields in the heat, sweat-ridden and smelling of drink. He had fallen next to the scarecrow he had put up in the garden. She had taken up the plow after that till the foul beast that pulled the contraption keeled over as well. Funny how they had never had animals before or knew how to care for them, but somehow, they had become so dependent on them.

She had been dragged thousands of miles from her family to some poorly built shack in the middle of nowhere. She thought of the rolling green hills of home and longed to be out in the open, not trapped inside the forest of never-ending trees. She could feel the morning dew on her feet as she walked up the green hillside.
Her ears pricked as she heard a horse whimper outside, slamming her back to the grim situation at hand. It was well into the night, too late for visitors. The rumors she heard of bandits crossed her mind. She gripped the oil lantern at her daughter’s bedside as she heard men’s hushed voices outside and the sound of their boots in the mud.

In that moment, she felt so light, with no fear or concern. Her family had been freed by death, and she was curious as she felt the clutches of death draw closer. Would it hurt? What would she experience? Heaven? Nothingness?

She heard the door swing open; she spun around, throwing the oil lantern in the fireplace. The room lit up like the midday sun as fire spilled out of the fireplace. She felt the fringes of her dress catch fire as she took a step forward and brought her husband’s rifle up to meet the men who intended to take whatever remained of her.

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