.....The chubby little red-haired girl balanced on the porch steps of the weathered old, two story Nebraska farmhouse. The sunlight enhanced her short cropped hair and seem to make it appear as strands of rusty copper. Her only garment, a faded and shabby sack-like dress, had at one time been a bright green. Worthy of a trip into town maybe, but now it was hardly presentable for the sloppin of the hogs. Helga had so many freckles on her body and face that in places, like the bridge of her tiny nose they nearly joined to make one huge freckle. Helga had been named after her father’s, German born mother, whom Helga had never known. It was said that she too had had red hair and freckles when a girl, but had blossomed into a beauty. Little Helga had been orphaned soon after birth. both her parents had been lost to smallpox. Since then, she went to live with her grandpa Homer and Grandma Mattie. while being very close to Grandpa Homer, she had never got along with her Aging Grandmother.

.....“Granny Mattie, as she was called, had been ailing from the rhuematiz and had been confined to her bed and her beloved rocking chair which sat on the sunny front porch of the farmhouse. Mattie was engrossed in the affairs of the farm, like directing Grandpa and Helga with the chores around the place. In this way, she could feel that she had some control and was doing more than her fair share. Granny Mattie would seldom look up from her knitting and seemed to not notice Helga at all.

.....Helga bounced off the steps with glee! Her dirty bare feet causing spirals of brown dust to rise up and hug her sturdy bare legs. She reached down and nearly missed catching a fluffy gray and white striped feather before a gust of wind could catch it and whisk it away. Helga waved it high in the air and twirled it between thumb and forefinger, making it appear to fly like the make believe bird that it was. Skipping along past the outhouse, she and the feather flew off, making their way to the shade of a giant old willow tree. Helga felt the willow tree was somehow alive and it seemed to listen when she spoke. It was her friend.

.....The willow stood like a proud warrior beside a muddy duck pond. where an assortment of ducks and geese could always be seen splashing around.. It was said that a horse thief had once been hung on the lower limb that snaked out over the pond.. Helga was sure that the ghost of that unfortunate horse thief haunted the pond at night. On this sunny afternoon of August 9th, in the year 1900, not even that thought could darken Helga’s cheerful mood.. This was Helga’s eleventh birthday!

.....Helga paused beside a cornfield where a ragged scarecrow stood watch. It reminded Helga of Granny Mattie, all bleached out and frail looking. Confined to the same spot.! Even it’s face reminded Helga of her grandmother......all pinched up and wrinkled., and mean lookin! The scarecrow’s beady black, shoebutton eyes always seemed to stare back at Helga with disapproval. She could feel them staring at her back at times as she would walk away.

.....Helga liked to make-believe that she lived in town, in a grand house and her parents were young. Her father tall and strong, her mother pleasant and beautiful, always smiling....not old and frail like Granny Mattie! 

.....Taking a glance towards the farmhouse, Helga gave a stout ear of corn a quick twist and pulled it off it’s tall stalk. She continued on to a squat beside the pond under the huge willow. Having already husked the ear of corn and thrown the green silky mass into the pond, she began to nibble at it like a locust. Granny Mattie would scold her if she knew. She didn’t allow her to eat between meals. It wasn’t “lady-like.” Helga loved raw corn.

.....Grunts and squeals disturbed Helga’s thoughts, as the breeze brought the foul scent of Eleanor the pig who had brought her brood to enjoy the cool gray muck at the opposite side of the pond.. Eight tiny black and white piglets appeared to be fastened to Eleanor’s tummy as she moved along. Helga decided right then, and there, she would never have children! With this thought in mind she hurled the devoured corn cob at Eleanor and her piglets. It landed right on top of Eleanor’s head.. this caused quite a commotion, which delighted Helga. It also brought Grandpa Homer out from the nearby cornfield where he’d been searching for a Dominikker hen who’d gone to set.

.....“Helga! What in tarnation are ya doin to those pigs?” Grandpa Homer roared.

.....Helga stood up and wiped yellow bits of corn kernels from the corners of her mouth. “That mean ole gander jest up and attacked poor ole Eleanor and her darlin babies Grandpappy!”

.....Homer knew better than that. He knew Helga had been up to her tricks again, but decided not to scold her since it was her birthday.

.....“Well why don’t you go into the house and look in on yer Granny fir me Helga. she’s a feelin mighty poorly this day. Besides, you should visit with your Granny more often. You know, you may not always have yer Grandma Mattie around.” Grandpa Homer said.

.....Helga decided that she would do just that. Maybe Granny Mattie would have a little something to surprise her with. She thought.

.....She hurried towards the farmhouse setting off a group of hens and sailed right through a cloud of dust and feathers.

.....Once inside, Helga climbed quietly up the stairs, past the old painting of some strange purple flowers Helga had never seen before. At the top, she paused and looked down the long dark hall at Granny Mattie’s bedroom door where her grandmother now rested. within. Down the long quiet hall Helga crept until she was at the door. She opened it and stepped inside. The air smelled musty and sour. Not unlike the swell she fed the hogs. She wanted to turn around and leave. Her Grandmother was curled up queerly on her bed. The old patchwork quilt her grandmother treasured lay half on the floor. Helga walked up to the bed and picked up the corner of the quilt which touched the floor and placed it upon the bed again. Grandma Mattie who was always so neat and tidy lay there in a pool of sweat. Her fine white hair that she always kept up in a tight bun was loose and plastered to her head. Helga had to look away. she was about to turn around and leave when her Grandmother moaned loudly and rolled over to face her. Helga stood frozen to the spot.

.....“Helga, What do you want. Can’t you see I am restin? I am not well....go...go now and leave me be!” Grandma Mattie said tartly. “Have you done your chores? You are such a lazy gal! Always playin and never doin a lick a work around here. You are about as worthless as that ole hounddog your grandpappy insisted on keepin around here until it up an died of old age! None too soon either!” 

.....At that moment all the pity that Helga had been feeling towards her Granny had been replaced with such hurt and anger that Helga felt she hated Grandma Mattie. Old Ben, the hound, had been her best friend, more of a friend than the old willow could ever be. He had slept at the foot of her bed nights before he got so sick and died. Helga would never forget that night. She remembered that Granny Mattie would not allow ole Ben in the house then, and she wouldn’t even let Helga go out to the barn to check on him the night he died. All the mean and ugly things Granny Mattie ha ever said to her came back to Helga at that minute,and then it all came spilling out in one big breath! “ 

.....You are just an mean ole witch, and you deserve to be old and sick like you are. I won’t even cry if you die! I’ll be glad when your gone!

.....“Helga!” Grandma Mattie gasped!

.....With this said, Helga fled out the door, practically flying down the stairs and back out into the sunlit yard. Tears flooded her green eyes as she stopped to catch her breath. A fluffy feather caught her eye and she bent down and picked it up. It became a bird then. Helga entered her own special world and feather held high, went sailing across the barnyard.

.....A week later Grandma Mattie died having never left her room after Helga’s visit. Helga had never seen her Grandmother since that day. Grandpa Homer had been so lost that he failed to even notice this.

.....A few months after the funeral while Grandpa Homer was busy in the fields, Helga stood beneath the huge old willow tree. An approaching storm darkened the horizon. the wind howled through the tree branches and whipped the switches around to sting Helga’s face. Leaves and debris swept past in a flurry of dust. The chickens raced for shelter.

.....Helga thought of the horse thieve. What had his name been? she wondered. Had anyone loved him? and what became of his horse? Had his eyes bulged out of their sockets when they hanged him? With this last thought, she looked about warily at the darkening sky and then she saw the scarecrow....In the dim light it appeared to be the ghost of Grandma Mattie. It looked....alive! Helga was sure it’s button eyes were looking right at her. She wanted to run then but her legs wouldn’t move. She was sure if she tried to run off that scarecrow would jump right off that pole and chase her and........The wind howled and screeched around the eaves of the barn roof. Was it really the wind, or the ghost of Grandma Mattie she was hearing. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed! Then the rain began to fall in sheets. Helga had felt bad about the awful things that she’d said to her granny that afternoon when she’d last gone to her granny’s room. She was now sure that Granny had returned from the grave in the form of the scarecrow to haunt her for those awful things she’d said. The scarecrow began to dance on it’s pole while the storm put on a lightshow. Helga’s eyes grew wide and round as an owl’s. She couldn’t look away. She was an unwilling spectator to this strange sight before her.

.....As soon as it had begun, it was over. the sky opened up and the sun returned to shed it’s light on the day. The scarecrow no longer appeared alive, but just hung there on the pole. All wet and sorry looking. A crow flew from the field and perched on it’s head. bringing Helga back to reality. Helga’s eyes misted then as she thought of Grandma Mattie. She looked up into the blue sky where a falcon soared.

.....Helga reached into her pocket and took out a fluffy goose feather. Twirling it between thumb and forefinger she soared across the muddy barnyard. Suddenly a mile high!