Submitted to us by Julie Sullivan
Emma loved books. Adventure stories, fairy tales, mysteries—she read them all! Every night, she would pick one from her shelf and read by the glow of her nightlight.
But lately, Emma had been reading less—not because she didn’t want to, but because her books kept vanishing!
Each morning, another book was missing. Day after day, her favorite stories disappeared without a trace.
One afternoon, while walking through her family’s farm, she spotted something strange.
There, stacked high in the cornfield, was a tower of books!
Emma gasped. “My stories!”
But who had taken them? And why were they here?
She turned to Straw-lee, her family’s goofy scarecrow. He stood tall and floppy, his patched-up shirt swaying in the breeze, his stitched hat sitting crooked on his head.
Emma crossed her arms. “Straw-lee, did you take my books?”
Of course, Straw-lee didn’t answer. He just swayed like always.
Emma needed a plan. That night, she placed her favorite book on her windowsill and hid behind the curtains, waiting to see if the thief would return.
Hours passed. The moon shined. The night was still.
Then—
Rustle… rustle…
Emma peeked out and gasped.
A small brown owl swooped in, carefully lifted the book in its beak, and flapped into the night sky.
Emma grabbed her flashlight and followed the owl to the cornfield—straight to Straw-lee’s feet.
She pointed. “It was you, Owl! You’ve been taking my books!”
The owl gently placed the book at Straw-lee’s side. Then something magical happened…
The wind whistled through the cornfield, the moonlight shimmered… and suddenly, Straw-lee moved!
Emma’s eyes widened.
Straw-lee blinked once, stretched his hay-stuffed arms, and gave a slow, sheepish smile.
“Oh, Emma,” he said in a warm, raspy voice. “I love books. I’m sorry for taking them. I only wanted to read, even though—well, I’m just a scarecrow.”
Emma’s mouth hung open. “Straw-lee… you can talk?!”
Straw-lee chuckled softly. “Only for a moment, thanks to the kindness of the owl. You see, even scarecrows love to read.”
Emma grinned. “You should’ve asked! I would’ve shared my books with you.”
Straw-lee nodded. “Books make the world bigger—even for a scarecrow in a field.”
Emma thought for a moment, then had an idea. “Wait right here!”
She ran back to the house and returned with a tiny wooden bookshelf. She placed it near Straw-lee’s post, carefully stacking some of her favorite stories inside.
“There!” she said proudly. “Now you don’t have to take my books—you have your own.”
Straw-lee smiled warmly. “Thank you, Emma.”
The wind swirled again, and just like that, Straw-lee froze back into place, his stitched-on grin remaining.
Emma looked at the owl, who blinked knowingly, as if to say, The magic is real if you believe in it.
From that day on, Emma knew something special: books weren’t just for children or grown-ups. They were for everyone—even scarecrows.
