AN: A collection of one-shots taking place during Jonathan's childhood. There are, after all, certain things that should be addressed-Granny, the creation of Scarecrow… The main title comes from The Used's 'The Bird and the Worm', which fits him so well. You know, when he was young and huggable.
A young Jonathan Crane sits in his room, hungry, scared, and alone. Granny sent him to bed without supper-a surprisingly mild punishment. He blames her broken ankle, and dreads what she'll do when she's recovered. That really is his fault, in a way-in an effort to get away from her, he ran into the cornfield. When she followed, she fell wrongly in a small hole and broke her ankle.
His stomach growls and he clasps his hands over it as if to shut it up. He's very tired and beginning to be ill. What he'd give for a glass of milk!
Scarecrow?
Scarecrow is his imaginary friend. He protects him from the nightmares and keeps him company when he's locked in his room or out in that god-forsaken chapel. Usually when Jonathan's not playing with him, he sleeps in a black corner of his head.
Sure enough, there's the familiar feeling of the straw man-for Scarecrow truly is a scarecrow, a twisted, rotting scarecrow-stretching and awakening.
Jonny! What's up, kiddo?
Granny's mad at me.
That's normal.There's a low chuckle that would be downright frightening if it came from anyone else. What else is new?
Nothing.
He can never hide anything from Scarecrow, no matter how hard he tries. It's a small price to pay for having a friend.
Don't tell lies, Jonny. You know I don't like it when you tell lies.
He bites his lip and clenches his hands tighter over his stomach.
The kids at school broke my glasses. That's why she's mad.
Is that so?
If he closes his eyes, he can feel a raspy arm lay itself across his shoulders. Security. Safety. Even if it's only in his head.
Uh-huh.
You know what I'd like to do to those kids at school?
Scarecrow, please don't…
I'd like to wring their little necks like they're real crows! He laughs uproariously. How would ya like that, Jonny-boy?
That's murder.
That's justice. Can I help it if they overlap? The rough fingers tousle his hair. Go to sleep, kiddo.
He pulls away from the rough arm and digs out his pyjamas. They're old, and far too big for him, but he doesn't dare complain. All the same, it gives him the creeps to think that they once belonged to Granny's dead brother.
Eh. No such thing as ghosts.
I think there's such thing as ghosts.
Don't be an idiot. Go to sleep.
He sets his broken glasses on the nightstand and curls up under the blankets, trying to ignore his growling stomach and runny nose.
Scarecrow?
What?
You promise there's no such thing as ghosts?
Would I lie to you?
Yes.
Humph. Yeah, yeah, I promise.
Thanks, Scarecrow.
Go to sleep, kiddo.
He pulls the blankets over his head and closes his eyes. He's asleep when Granny comes to unlock the door.
THE END