The Tin Man
by Daniel Casebeer
The tin man sighed as the scarecrow opened his chest. He way lying on his back, the tin man not the scarecrow, and his legs looked like fishhooks on the yellow bricks. Using the twigs on the ends of his fingers, the scarecrow disconnected the tin man's heart and wrapped it in a purple handkerchief. He soldered the cast of a child's hand in its place, and fastened it to the hamster's wheel with a string from his wrist. Later that night, while the flying monkeys were hunting for bats above the cornfield, the scarecrow buried the tin man's heart at the trunk of a dying tree. By morning, its branches were laden with silver apples.
Daniel Casebeer lives in Pittsburgh. He is the editor of Pear Noir!