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The Crow

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The black rain kissed street sparkled with the gentle caress of the flowing water. It cascaded in a thin layer downhill, gathering at the sides to form a steady stream. Earthworms congregated on the sidewalk in an attempt to avoid a watery grave. The rain started late in the day and continued well into the night. The fog clung to every structure and a nocturnal mist hung low to the ground. The shadowy figure walked aimlessly, oblivious to everything except the darkness. A flutter of wings and an indignant caw made her snap out of her reverie. She looked up and saw the crow regarding her from its perch on the telephone wire. It flew just in front of her, touched the ground for an instant, and then took to the air. She followed it blindly, it was the only thing that made sense to her. The mud clung to her long dark hair and to her black burial dress. The hard rain had only just begun to wash the mud away. She paused for a moment, shivering in the chill rain. The crow cawed impatiently so she continued on. Finally, the crow rested on the for-sale sign of a darkened house. It waited for her to stumble across the lawn. It cawed and looked into the driveway, taking her attention with it. The RV sat deep in the driveway under a shelter that extended off the house. She covered her face with her hands.

      "Nicole,"she whispered and collapsed beside the RV. Another sharp caw interrupted her meandering thoughts, the crow stood on the top of the outdoor tap which was connected to a garden hose. The feathered creature shook its wings as if to rid itself of the rain. She picked up the hose and turned the tap on using the strong rush of water rinse the mud away. The crow returned to its perch on top of the RV. She reached to open the door and found it locked. She sunk to the ground, and rested her head on the RV. She heard a flutter of wings and felt a sharp peck on her shoe. She straightened and found the bird on her shoulder. It dipped its head towards her chest, feathers brushed her cheek. It held a gleaming chain in its beak and a key dangled on the end. She stood shakily and stared at the key before inserting it in the lock, the click made her wince. The door swung open and she gazed bewilderingly at it. The crow flew into the RV and made a chirping noise. She stepped up into the trailer and closed the door. She lowered herself to the floor shivering and lay there listlessly watching the rain run down the small window above her. The bird had other plans. It let out three sharp caws making her sit up, and then it waited expectantly. Images flooded her, two giggling teenagers leafing through a teen magazine. The same girls on the beach splashing one another in the waves. Later still, a broken heart needed mending. Then, senior prom, both girls smiling in the mirror. Camera flashes, exclamations from tearful mothers. Graduation, relieved students, beaming parents. A few years later, the same two girls, now women. An RV road trip never taken.... The glint of a knife, hideous laughter, the world is red, and darkness rules.

       She sat motionless, frozen in her pain. The crow shared her silence for a moment. The crow shared her silence for a moment. Finally, she stood as if animated by rage. There was a caw of approval and she knew how to start the journey of making the wrong things right. At the crow's telepathic urging she searched the drawers. Her hand touched the fabric of a long black dress, she was still for a moment. The sound of the sewing machine and giggling as the stitches had to be taken out and redone. The feel of cold metal pins, and the impromtu fashion show of the nearly completed dress. The crow hopped into the half open drawer and picked up the fabric with its beak, dropped it, and regarded her for a moment before repeating the gesture. She picked up the dress, her guide jumping quickly off of it to avoid being dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Her coffin dress was shed in favour of the dress that was so lovingly made, half of the side hem remained unstitched. As if waking from a dream she felt the cold air on her feet. Pulling the tights on her legs slowly she glanced over in the corner. She heard Nicole's voice, big bitchin' black boots. The crow flapped its wings and went to the door. She looked away and grabbed the boots. She emerged as pain personified, Pain alive and moving.

To Be Continued....

© 2003 Ravena Lee