🌤 The Song of the Scarecrow

It was a golden afternoon in the village — the kind where sunlight feels like a soft, warm blanket spread over everything.
The rice fields swayed gently with the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a lonely crow called out.

Noyontara sat by the window, sipping her tea. Her mother was drying puffed rice in the sun, and her little brother, Rono, was fast asleep under a tree. Everything felt still — only time seemed to be moving, slowly and quietly.

Then, suddenly, a sound drifted in from the fields.
It was the faint tune of a flute — so soft that it felt like the wind itself was humming.

Curious, Noyontara stepped outside and walked toward the sound. But when she reached the field, there was no one there. Only the scarecrow stood tall, guarding the crops.
A small flute hung from its shoulder, swaying gently in the breeze, making that hauntingly beautiful tune.

Noyontara smiled.
“Was it you, Scarecrow?” she whispered.

No answer — just the wind, playing the same tune again.

She smiled once more and turned back home, carrying with her a little piece of music and a sip of sunlight in her heart.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this little afternoon tale, leave your thoughts below — I’d love to hear how it made you feel. 💛