by
Carl Price (elbeaner@hotmail.com)
I believe there is a place where restless souls wander. Burdened by their greif, they cannot gain entrance into paradise. Some of these souls are grief-stricken over the loss of a loved one, others feel that their deaths were wrong, and untimely.
I also believe in the power of love. I believe love is stronger than death, and if two people loved each other enough- nothing can keep them apart. Not even death's veil.
-"You better hope and pray that you make it safe
back to your own world"-
Shakespear's Sister "Stay"
"You were never good enough for my daughter..."
Darkness surrounded him. Cold and merciless, like the words her father said long ago. The words that sent him over the edge of sanity.
"You'll never amount to anything..."
He felt the anger and rage building up inside as more insults crashed into his mind.
"I love you so much..."
He moaned in agony as a voice sifted through his mind. He could see her in front of him, her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, her soft blue eyes sparkling with an angelic light. She meant everything to him.
"I...." "...love..." "...you..." "I... love... you..." "I love you..." "I-love-you-I-loveyou-Ilove-you-IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou...."
"HEEEAAAAATHERRRRRRR!!!" he screamed, his voice reaching an almost inhuman pitch. He snapped his eyes open and looked at his surroundings. All around him, he could see sorrow and hopelessness- painful and gray. In the bare, gnarled trees covered in bleached white bark. In the congregations of people that gathered and walked around almost aimlessly. He could feel the presence of Death all around.
"W-Where am I?" he asked in a choked voice.
"The Land of Nod," a soft voice said from behind him. He spun around and looked at the person that spoke. A young woman, about 18, looked back. She had a strange, three-teardrop design painted under her left eye.
"What the hell are you talking about and who the hell are you?" he asks. She shrugged.
"You're in the realm where restless souls wander," she answered, "it's not quite heaven, it's not quite hell. It's just.... here." She swept her arm in a wide circle. He looked around and saw that, even though he hadn't moved, his surroundings changed. He and the girl now stood at the foot of a long bridge that stretched over a deep canyon.
"You shouldn't worry about who I am Eric..." the girl whispered., "just worry about yourself and your love for your girlfreind." He looked at her in shock.
"How do you know my name?" he asked, pushing a lock of hair away from his face.
The girl shook her head and pointed across the bridge, "She's waiting for you.... see?"
He looked at the other side of the bridge and saw someone coming towards them. Eric and the girl started to walk towards the person.
"Do you know who that is?" the girl asked. Eric nodded slowly then took off in a heartpounding run.
"Stop!!" the girl screamed, "You can't touch her!! You're a ghost to her!"
Not listening to her words, he continued running to his beloved. When he was close enough, Eric opened his arms to embrace her. As his arms began to close around her, however, a strange sense of incoherence fell across him, and instead of wrapping Heather up in a warm, loving embrace, he passed through her body and landed roughly on the bridge.
"I told you so," the strange girl commented, appearing beside him suddenly. Eric looked up at her and shot a deadly glance.
"What happened to me?" he asked, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Aside from the fact that you're deader than a dorrnail," the girl remarked, "the way this place works is this: If you died and accepted it, you go on to the nicer place. If you hated the way that you died... you're stuck here until it all gets fixed. When that happens, you could be here for a very long time."
Eric looked over the side of the bridge, "There's another way, isn't there? There's a way that I can fix it, right?"
"I don't know," the girl sighed, "it's believed that if you jump off this bridge, you go back to the Realm of the Living for a short time."
Slowly, he grabbed ahold of the support ropes and climbed over, his feet finding just enough purchase to keep him from fall. Eric looked over his shoulder at the girl and winked. She smiled crookedly and nodded.
"Just one thing Eric," she said, "never forget why you went back..."
He stretched his arms out to his sides and fell forward, slowly flipping head over heels...
An ancient legend tells of crows carrying souls to the afterlife. The legend tells of certain souls that have so much grief over their death they can't rest in peace. When this happens, the crow sometimes brings the soul back to earth for an attempt to allieviate the pain.
-I am not here, I think I've never been here at all
or ever will. I feel like a place that none goes anymore-
Stabbing Westward "Why"
The darkness surrounded me once again. It frightened me. I was scared when I was in the Land of the Dead. But now, in this confining, dull darkness, I think I was merely nervous.
~You know where you are big boy?~
"No, I don't," I snap, "and I really don't want to play 20 Questions right now until I accomplish one thing."
~What's that, slick?~
"I want the fuck out of here!"
I start slamming my hands and kicking my feet in the darkness. I feel and hear the earth around me groan in denial. I get an idea, a good one, hopefully.
~You die down there hotshot? Oh wait... you're already dead.~
"Joke it up jackoff," I hiss, "when I get outta here, I'm gonna rip you a new arsehole." I draw my arms as close up to my chest as I can and inhale deeply through gritted teeth, keeping most of the dirt out of my mouth.
"Look out," I whisper in warning. A moment later, my hands snap out and rip through the dirt above me. I smile in joy as I watch the earthen lid above me snap in two as I push the ground up and out. I start to shout with joy, ecstatic that I'm free. Right then, a ton of dirt falls back into the hole. Square into my face.
"Dammit."
I spit the dirt out, then stand up in the newly opened grave and look around. In the early coming-of-dusk light, the world of crude wooden crosses seems beautiful and ugly all at once. I climb out of the hole slowly, my arms and legs feeling numb.
I lay on the dew-soaked earth and stretch my arms out as rain pours on me from above. Despite the icy rain falling on my face, I am still burning up and somehow freezing cold.
~Hey, hotshot, get up~
The voice that goaded me out of the coffin spoke to me again. I look around and could only see a glossy black crow perched on a shrub that grew over my grave.
I must be out of my mind, I think, I hear a voice, but I only see a crow. A damn big crow at that.
~Jesus Christ, you had a 180 IQ when you were alive... now you're dumb as a brick. I must have been hated in a former life.~
"Okay," I say, "whoever is talking to me... please show yourself. In case you haven't noticed... I'm having a bad day."
The crow caws loudly, drawing me to it.
"Wait a minute here..." I breathe, "I talk, you caw, right? But, if I talk now, and ask you a question, will you answer?"
~Maybe~ a voice coming from the crow replies. ~All depends on how you ask.~
"What happened to me?"
~It'll come to you later. First thing's first, we both need to get the hell outta here.~
The crow flies off of the shrub and glides to a fence that runs through a large swamp oak. I get up and, my legs still stiff and numb, slowly walk to the gates.
"Any place you wanna take me to?" I ask the crow, leaning on the fence to support myself.
~I'm merely following you... at this point, anyway. You pick where we go.~
"I don't even know where we are."
~Sure you do... you used to live here.~
I look around at the graves and how they are arranged. It all seems so familiar to me. I know where the crow and I am, but I can't place it.
Finally it hits me, "Palatka?"
~Yep, we're about two miles from your old apartment.~
I jump over the fence and start lumbering down the sidewalk, hoping no one will see me and ask where I just came from.
It seems like it takes an eternity for me to get one mile down the road to a K-Mart. I walk up to the door just as a pimple-covered stockboy is pulling a train of carts inside.
"Store's closing in fifteen minutes, sir," Pimply said in a weird falsetto voice.
"I know..." I continue walking, "I won't be long." The boy gets a look at my face and goes deathly pale.
"Man.... go right ahead," he stammered, "do whatever you need to."
I walk past him wordlessly and wander through the store, heedless of the stares I'm receiving from people leaving the store.
Why is everyone staring at me? They can't tell that I'm dead, can they?
~It's the simple fact they are watching a person with a crow on his shoulder walking through their store. Go to the bathroom hoss, you'll see it then~
I head towards the restroom of K-Mart and push on the door. The lock holding the door keeps it from moving. I stare at it, hoping that by my constant gaze, some magical force will unlock it.
~Pull the lock off the door~
Slowly, I reach up and take the lock in my trembling hand. I pull it gently and the bracket rips halfway out of the door.
"I did that?" I ask in amazement.
~You sure did buddy. Now, pull it the rest of the way off and walk into the damn bathroom~
I rip the lock the rest of the way off and push the door open. That moment, someone announces that the store is officially closed and all the lights cut out. I can still see almost perfectly and walk over to a stall.
~You don't need to take a whizz boy, you ain't drank anything in almost a year~
"I ain't dead... but I'm not alive," I whisper softly, "You gottin be jacking my anchor, right?"
~No. You're worm food, and your girlfreind is dead too.~
"Heather? No... that can't be right... I'm standing right here! I'm alive goddammit... alive..."
~You look in the mirror lately Eric? Come on, turn around. I dare ya~
I spin around and look at the bird, perched on a sink. It caws loudly and my gaze goes up to the mirror. I walk closer and see that my forehead and cheeks are covered with bizzare scars. Two jagged cuts run over my eyes, from my scalpline to the just below my nose. Four more smaller scars run from the ends of my eyes down to my cheekbones.
~Not a pretty sight, huh bub?~
I touch the scars lightly. They're cut deep into my skin and haven't healed fully. The skin on the edges feels almost like dried leather.
~You know how this happened? Or do I have to give you some pointers?~
I don't answer. My head is swimming in the confusion of this. I feel sick. Real sick. I barely manage to stumble to the stall before I heave up whatever was last in my stomach.
~Pointers then~
"What are you talking about?" I groan.
~The part of the job I hate. Buckle ya seatbelt son, it's gonna be a bumpy ride~
A thousand images run through my mind. Images of Heather:
(my girlfriend kissing me, holding me, laughing with me, laughing at me.) (The first time we made love.) (Heather coming up to me with a look of joy on her face) ("Eric... I'm pregnant") (taking her in my arms and holding her close) ("We should get married... I don't want our child to grow up like I did, not knowing who the father is") (Telling her father and having to stand silently as he shouted insults and obsceneties at me)
Images of running into Arthur Parrot, someone some time later that owed me money:
("Arthur, when are you going to pay me back?") ("Man what the hell are you talking about? I ain't took nothin' from you, you fuckin cocksucker") ("Three weeks Arthur, that's all. No more than three weeks from today") ("What'll you do if I don't pay you back? Go cryin to your fuckin cunt of a girlfriend?") (Doing my best to hold back my rage when he insulted Heather behind her back) ("No, Arthur. You don't get me my money in three weeks, I'm gonna pistol whip you then set your dick on fire")
Images of what happened three weeks later:
(Heather hanging on my arm as we walk home from a movie. We pass through the swamp graveyard that hasn't been used in over 50 years) (Arthur and a group of people walking up to us, hands behind their backs) ("You have my money?") ("No, I got sumthing better though") (Arthur's cousin, David, pulling a gun out and shooting Heather in the stomach) (Her look of despair as she clutches at the hole in her belly as Arthur shoots her in the chest) ("Eric... the baby... I lost it... I'm sorry") (Attacking Arthur and David in a blind fury, not even feeling someone ram a knife into my back) (Falling to the ground and rolling over just as a hispanic girl sits on my chest and places a knife on my cheek) ("He saw the world as it truely was.... I can use his eyes") (Not seeing anything, but still able to hear) ("He's still alive Arthur, what do we do?") ("This is a graveyard, right?") ("We bury them both, then let the critters handle the rest") ("You still got that heroin?... Put it in him.... all of it")
The images end suddenly and I am still looking at myself. My eyes are rimmed with tears. As the first one spills down my face, it runs thru the main scar, leaving a dark grey trail.
~Ashes. You and your love were sacrficed, so now you show the marks of one sacrificed~
"What am I?"
~There's no real term for it, but someone was kind enough to generalize us all as Corvine~
"And that means?"
~'Of the Crow'. I feel flattered come to think of it~
"That weird chick in the Land of Nod said I should never forget why I came back," I said, shaking my head to clear it up, "what happens if I do?"
~Lets hope you never find out~
MONDAY 8:45PM
Gary Allen sat in his livingroom, whiskey bottle in one hand, remote in the other, watching old home movies he made of his daughter. He cried to himself as he watched these videos, because he knew that his baby girl would never be in another one of those films. All because of that bastard she was dating. He got her pregnant. He took her away from her father. He murdered her and their unborn granddaughter while he was on heroin. He was lucky he killed himself, because if he showed his face around Gary, there would be hell to pay.
"Oh yes," Gary said, pulling another hit from the whiskey, "that mangy little drugfuck would have had hell to pay for killin Heather."
I made my way out of the bathroom as silently as I could. Not that I needed to, the store was empty as a school on the last day of June. The crow remained faithfully on my shoulders as I journeyed through Kmart for what I needed. I first stop at the men's clothes and pick out a large black jacket and black vinyl pants. I go to the shoes and grab a pair of Wolverine construction boots.
"Attention Kmart shoppers," I hear a voice say. I nearly jump out of my dead skin until I realize it's a recording, "In our men's department are the newest fashions from Garrison Kelly. Also, in our sporting goods, we are running blue light specials on all our Winchester and Remington ammunition."
~You thinkin what I'm thinkin'?~
I smile and nod, then sing, "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to steal we go."
I walk to sporting goods and look at the assortment of guns that are crying out to be used. The crow flits on top of the register.
~Can I help you, sir?~
"I want em all."
~Go right ahead and take them then~
I hop over the counter and slam my fists into the glass and start grabbing guns. Shotguns, handguns, rifles, semi auto, full auto, it is all the same to me. I set all the guns down and decide on three very costly, and very sinister looking guns.
~Fill me in boy, what'd you get?~
"Smith and Wesson Assault 12 gauge pump," I say, pointing at the first one.
~If looks could kill, we'd be dead. Disregard that comment, we are dead. Next?~
"Colt .45 semi auto with pinpoint attachement." I pick the gun up and gently press the trigger down. A small red dot appears on the guncase, the broken glass refracting the laser all over the place. I mockingly sweep the gun towards the bird.
"Bang."
~That shit ain't funny boy. Didn't anyone ever teach you: Never point a gun at someone unless you're gonna kill them?~
I set the gun down. "Relax, they never have a loaded gun in the cabinet. My final choice is a Winchester .22 combo set. Rifle and gun in one handy case. Rifle for sniping, gun for just executin motherfuckers up close and personal."
~Nice style, much like me, or how I was. Except I prefered swords. Guns have no sense of personal touch to me~
"Whatever," I whisper, grabbing as many bullets, clips and shells as I can.
When all my guns and pockets are full of ammunition, I start for the front doors and pass thru the makeup section. Fighting the urge to hide myself, I press on, humming a Monty Python song to myself.
~Why didn't you paint yourself up, hoss?~
"I didn't want to," I answer. "I want the people that killed me to see me coming."
~You know, I wonder why I didn't think of that when I had a shot~
I touch my neck and a remember the feeling of the heroin needle violating my neck.
"Please don't mention shot," I whisper as I prepare to crash through the glass doors. I remember the 200 odd rounds on my person and decide against it.
~Kick it~
I raise my booted foot up and smash it into the window. The glass gives way easily and shatters around my leg. I don't even notice the pieces of door sticking out of my leg as I walk down the street to my old apartment.
~You know what you look like right now?~
"What?" I ask as I stop and stare at the college I was attending before my murder.
~A junkie with glass sticking out of his leg. Do us a favor and pull it out~
I reach down and pull the shards of glass out of my leg and throwing them to the side. I keep on walking and soon find myself in the apartments beside mine.
"David is here with someone," I whisper, "I can feel it." I walk through the complex, stretching out with my senses. I stop at the apartment closest to a fence and pop my neck.
~Well? You waiting for an invitation? GO IN THERE!!~
I place my hand on the door and pause. I look over my shoulder at the crow, he seems pissed.
"Wait here till I tell you," I command, leaping up and grabbing the roof ledge.
~Now what? You going to drop in like Santa Claus and give em presents?~
"Just tap on the window until a greasy looking pothead shows up."
The crow proceeds to tap on the window almost psychotically, then slows down.
tap-tap- ~This better~ tap-tap-tap ~work or you~ tap-tap-tap ~will be hurt~
The tapping stops.
~He's here~
"Good." I swing down from the roof with acrobatic ease and kick the window in. David flies across the room and I follow him inside, landing on the floor with catlike grace. David, however, hits a nearby table and somersaults onto his back.
"David, you took two lives one night long ago," I hiss, slipping out of the jacket and revealing all the guns I'm carrying against a dark blue shirt.
"I don't know what you're talking about man," he groans, holding his head. I walk over to him and hoist him to his feet roughly.
"Look at me!" I snarl, the scent of death wavering between us both. "I'm sure that it will all come back."
Recognition dawns on his face, "We put you into the swamp graves. I watched Arthur and Carla bury you, but your eyes... C-Carla cut th-th-them out." I slap him across the cheek, shutting him up.
"Yes she did David," I reply. "You can see the scars, can't you?"
Another voice interrupts our meeting.
"David? What's going on?"
We turn and look at a very unattractive, very large woman in a ragged nightgown.
"Leave," I command. The woman takes one look at the guns I'm carrying and runs out of the house.
"David," I whisper, pulling him into the kitchen and slamming him into a chair. I turn to look for duct tape. "You killed two people one night. Heather Renee Allen and her unborn child. Because those two people died..." A few loud explosions and some terrible pains in my chest stop me from talking.
"Shit, I liked this shirt," I muttered, turning to face David, who's holding two guns. I smile devilishly as the bullet holes close up on their own. I look past him to the crow outside the apartment.
~Nice trick, huh Eric?~
Yep, I think, still facing David.
"Care to try again?" I rip open a gas pipe for his stove and wait for him to fire. He keeps the gun pointed at me as the smell of propane starts to fill the house.
"Well," I whisper slowly, reaching for the .45 behind my back, "if you won't..."
I whip the gun out and point it at him, the laser-bead nestled pleasantly between his eyes.
"I will."
The apartment erupts in a ball of fire when the gun goes off. I walk through the inferno slowly and grab my jacket.
~That was cool~
I look down at the bird, and smile as it hops on my shoulder.
~Wanna do another one?~
"I need to rest," I whisper, "know a good place?"
~Follow me~
The bird hops off my shoulder and flies across the fence. I leap over and follow the bird through the apartment complex I used to live at until we reach my old apartment.
Yellow police tape is strung across the door and windows and a condemned sign is posted on the door. I push the door open and step inside. I move to my old bedroom and look around. All my posters are still on the wall. All my belongings are where I last left them.
The bed is what draws me. The place where two lives became entwined and a third life was created. I see Heather and myself rolling around beneath the covers and feel my throat knot up. Hot tears well up in my eyes and pour down my face. I fall onto the bed and begin to sob uncontrollably.
"I killed them," I sob, my voice choked with emotion, "they both died because of me. If I didn'a bother Arthur for the money, he wouldn't have ambushed us and he wouldn't have... have..." My words melt into unintelligent sobs of pain.
I feel a soft hand settle on my shoulder and rest there.
"Eric, it wasn't your fault," I hear Heather's voice say. "it was our time to go."
"How can you say that?" I cry into the mattress, "you had a life inside of you. How can you say it was your time when your... OUR baby wasn't even born yet."
"Eric," Heather says to me, "do you even know if our baby would have been born?" I shake my head.
"Maybe our baby's angel knew she wouldn't be born," Heather whispered into my ear, "and she wanted us to be together. Do you understand that?"
I nod. "I understand, but I can't leave until I'm done. I have to make sure they know the pain I went through. I hope you can forgive me..."
I feel Heather's lips on my neck for an instant. "I forgive you."
Instantly, peace washes over me and I drowse off to sleep...
-Father Lucifer, you never looked so sane, how's the Lizzies?
How's your Jesus Christ been hanging?
Tori Amos "Father Lucifer"
"People, the devil walks amongst us!"
"Amen!"
"The Great Deceiver is behind us at every moment of our lives! He watches us! He follows us!"
"Hallelujah, Brother Russel!"
"But we have something that can halt the Great Deceiver, that old Devil, and send him from us in a hurry!"
"Praise Jeeeeeeesus!"
"That's right, brothers and sisters. We have the one thing- the ONLY thing- that can send the Devil packing!"
"What is it, Brother? Tell us about His love!"
"We have the Love of Jesus Christ!"
The congregation stood up and cheered as 28 year old Reverend Alan Russel held his arms high.
"I was walkin down the street one day my people," Rev. Russel preached in a hearty full voice, "and I was passed by some young people that were dressed in all manner of Devil-inspired clothing," his voice dropped down a few octaves.
"They saw me walkin past and they put on their meanest faces, faces they used to scare children and old folks. And they were spoutin' all manners of filth and obscenities from their mouths. And then, my brothers and sisters, these children saw that I had the POWER OF THE ALMIGHTY behind me! Can I get an 'amen'?"
A section of the crowd acknowledged him.
"And when the devils in these children noticed the LIGHT OF THE LORD within me, why... they stopped spittin' out their filth and obscenities, and they grew quiet, and the children themselves ASKED FOR FORGIVENESS IN THE PRESENCE OF THE LORD!" Reverend Russel held his arms out again and dropped to his knees, his eyes cast to the heavens.
After the sermon was over, Reverend Russel greeted his parishoners, but two men stood behind the rest. One of the men's eyes held the familiar red haze of a hangover, and his body language spoke of many months of torment. The other merely waited patiently in his pew.
When the rest of the church attendees had left, Alan Russel took the man aside.
"Reverend, I'm so glad you could speak with me," the man said.
"Of course Gary," Alan responded, "anything for one of God's lambs... Now, what seems to be troubling you?"
"Well, Reverend..."
"Please Gary, call me Alan."
"Ok... Alan. Well, you may have heard about my daughter, Heather, and what happened to her. I was just wondering.... if you wouldn't mind holding a formal service and candlelight vigil for her?"
"Of course Gary, anything to help you ease with the loss of your daughter. I understand that this past year has been troubling for you. It's not any consolation, but your daughter's passing has affected us all in one way or another... She was a beacon of light to all of us." Alan smiled lovingly and clapped Gary on the shoulder.
"Now, I hate to cut this short, but I have business that I must attend to, Gary. I hope you understand."
Alan walked to the other man that still sat on the pew.
"I was wondering if you would still be here," Alan whispered in a less presentable voice.
"If this wasn't so important, I wouldn't be here Arthur."
"Don't call me that!" Alan snapped. "It's Alan now... Alan Russel... Reverend Alan Russel."
"Well, Reverend," the other man said, spitting the last word out liek venom. "Somebody just iced your cousin David. An 'ice' isn't the best word to use, 'flambe' is more appropriate."
"SHIT!" Alan screamed, the acoustics of the church causing the word to reverberate hundreds of times. "Who was it? Who killed my cousin?"
"His girlfriend said it was some guy with a face that was carved up like a turkey and more guns than the Michigan Militia."
Alan groaned and clenched his head, "Get her to describe the guy to Carla, she'll draw him up and we can nail this sonnuvabitch to the wall."
"Got it Ar..... Alan."
Alan Russel, alias Arthur Russel Parrot, watched the man in black leave and then exited the church, locking the doors behind him.
I wake up almost 15 hours later from a horrible nightmare starring myself and a skeleton dressed up like John Wayne. I look around and see the crow sitting on what once was my dresser. It's perched on the mirror and looking at me, it's tiny head cocked at an angle.
~Finally decided to get up, I see~
"Still tormenting me, I see," I mumble, popping my back loose. I feel strongly refreshed and active. I move over to the dresser and take out a cosmetic kit. I find the palest shade in the kit and open it up.
~Gonna go with tradition?~
"I was thinking about it," I replied.
~Gonna hide yourself behind some Mask of Irony or Mask of Joy, or Mask of Sadness?~
I shook my head and pushed the kit to the side. It hit the floor and broke open, spilling it's contents everywhere. I watched a small diamond ring bounce and roll across the floor and stop at my foot.
The crow hops off the dresser and takes the ring in its beak.
~Dropped this~
It drops the ring in my hand and looks at it.
~Pretty ring. Big rock in it too~
"It was going to be her wedding ring," I explained. "We were going to get married the day before the baby was born. Make it easier on us."
~It hurts alot... I know~
"Yeah," I sigh, slipping the ring on my small finger.
I look at the crow, "Is what I'm doing right? I mean, shouldn't I let the cops handle this?"
~The cops have handled it. It was an open-and-shut case for them. Someone tipped them off that Heather was missing a few days after you were murdered. They asked around town and the only people that knew what happened was Carla Audette, Arthur Parrot, David Parrot, and the anonymous source.
~The story that was told was that you thought Heather was cheating on you and you flew into a rage and killed her on accident. When you calmed down and saw what happened, you took her out to the swamp graves and buried her. Then, you spiked yourself with enuff heroin to kill Richard Pryor three times over~
"What, no autopsies?"
~No need. Heather was killed by two gunshots, the knife that went in your back was in her hand-self defense- the gun that shot her was in your hand, and the heroin needle was still stuck in your neck~
"THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS! I'LL KILL EACH ONE OF 'EM!"
~Good. That's why you wanted to come back~
"Who's next?"
~You tell me. Carla and her brothers, they were some of the people behind Arthur, are at a graveyard, doing voodoo shit~
"What about Arthur?"
~I couldn't find him, either he's dead, or he moved~
"No, he's still alive," I whisper, "and he's still here. He's just hiding."
~So, you gonna take care of Carla?~
"Damn skippy, I'm gonna teach her it ain't polite to cut people's eyes out."
~You're getting the hang of this. Come child, the hour groweth late~
The crow flies out of the window and I follow it to my next kill.
-Drawn down to face this hell,
The voodoo I created, the voodoo I know well
Angels of Dissidents "What I know"
"Dark Father, we bring to you this sacrifice of blood and flesh," I heard Carla Audette's voice ring out clearly, "All in return, we ask for what you will give us! POWER TO RAISE THE DEAD!" A bolt of lightning rips thru the air as Carla raises the knife above the sacrifice, an attractive, young high school girl with half a cc of heroin injected in her.
Carla begins to make bizzare signs in the air and chant in almost nonsensical words. A second bolt of lightning breaks apart the sky and at that moment, Carla slams the knife into the girl's heart.
"Jesus Christ," I moan, "how can this shit go on?"
~Easily, no one knows~
"Well I do... and if they wanna see the dead raise, I'll give it to them..."
I wait until Carla and her brothers turn around and sneak over to the corpse of the girl. I lay beneath the wooden altar and leave one eye open. I'm treated to Carla laying a big french-kiss on one of her brothers.
~You were right about Palatka. Bunch of incestuous bastards~
I watch another of her three brothers bring a torch over to the altar and set it on fire. I lay beneath the altar and hold it up as the flames destroy everything but me. I finally let the altar fall on and around me and let the fire burn for a good minute or two.
"Carla! Carla! Look!" one of her brothers shouts, "somethin in the fire!" Her eyes light up with orgasmic joy as she looks where her brother is pointing. At me. Time for the big entrance.
I throw my arms out and climb to my feet amidst the fire. I hold my arms down at my side, palms facing Carla and her brothers, but I keep my eyes pointed downward, so she doesn't recognize me.
"Whatchoo gonna ask him Carla?"
"Yeah, what's the question?"
Carla walks up to the edge of the fire and kneels, the knife outstretched in her hands.
"Great Embodiment of our Dark Father," she greets, "I ask only what you see in our future."
"Death," I answer softly. "I only see death for you, and your brothers. I see the Avenging Spirit coming for you. Because of what happened a year ago."
Carla looks up at me in horror.
~Gonna kill em?~
I step out of the fire, still holding my arms out. I look down at Carla and smile.
"Have you seen the world for what it truely was, Carla?" I ask, looking at her sadly.
"Carla, what's this fucker talkin about?" one of her brothers asks.
"JUSTICE!" I holler, snatching the knife from Carla's hands and brandishing it over her.
~Do it boy~
As I bring the knife down on Carla's head, her brother pulls out a knife of his own and flings it at me. I watch the knife as it sticks into my chest and then I look at it. Slowly, I drop the knife from my hands and grab the one in my chest.
"I bet you think that hurt me, huh?" I whisper, dragging the knife out of my body slowly. I feel my muscles and flesh reattaching inside me as the knife leaves. I toss it in my hand a few times and then hammer it into the first brother's forehead.
"And I bet that hurt you."
Carla and the two remaining brothers watch the first one fall to the ground. I look at all three of them and raise my face up, revealing the scars that marked me on my return.
"C'mon!" I holler as loud as I can, "who's next?!?"
The second of the men tries to yank a handgun out of his pants. I'm on top of him in three steps, his throat in both my hands.
"Guess you shouldn't have worn underwear, huh bubba?"
I give a quick jerk and his neck snaps easily. I slip the gun out of his pants and fire behind me, not even looking where the bullet would go. I turn around and watch Carla's last remaining brother clutch his stomach. The memory of Heather holding her hands over her gunshot wound races through my mind.
I walk up to him and watch as he pleads for his life with his eyes. I put a second bullet into him, right between his eyes.
"Carla." She looks at me, holding the sacrificial knife in her hands in an attempt to ward me off.
"Carla, don't be stupid. Knives can't hurt me. Bullets can't stop me. It's time for atonement."
"NO!!" she screams slashing at me with the ornately designed knife. The knife takes me across the chest and splits the skin easily. We both watch as the wound slides shut quietly.
Carla places the knife at her throat and presses, "You can't go back if I kill myself."
"That's where you're wrong Carla," I whisper. "You do that, you're guaranteed pain and suffering for eternity. My way, you have a fifty fifty chance at paradise."
Carla lowers the knife from her throat, tears running down her face, "I tried to be good. Honest I did." She walks up to me and rests her head on my chest.
"I want to atone for what I did," she whispers, "will you forgive me?"
~ERIC! THE KNIFE!~
I feel the knife slip into my body without resistance and Carla give the handle a good upwards push. I stagger away and pull the knife out of my stomach quickly. As the gutwound heals, I squeeze two shots out of the gun.
The crow and I watch Carla fall backwards, two smoking holes where her eyes once were.
~That was a bit too close Eric~
"Why do you say that?"
~People believe that the crow is the soul's power source... You kill the crow and you can kill the person again~
"Yeah... so? You weren't anywhere near harm."
~I know, but what you don't understand is that Heather is your power source. If you ever have a change of heart about why you came back, you become mortal until you refocus on your mission~
"So I can't think of anything else except Heather and our baby, right?"
~Exactamundo~
"No problem with that," I comment, "they're all I thought about when I was alive."
I get up and start walking away from the carnage I created. A sense of peace momentarily washes over me as I hop the fence and start walking down the street, the crow once again perched on my shoulder.
As I'm walking, the peaceful feeling grows within me more and more until I can't help but stop and look around at where I am.
~How sweet. A bunch of people with candles all standing together to light someone on fire~
I look at the bird and shake my head, "They ain't gonna set anyone on fire, smartass. It's a candlelight vigil. Churches do it to honor people that died. Sometimes."
~Then why is there a man standing on a platform with his arms held out?~
"He's a preacher. You never went to church, did you?"
~Nope. I tended to stay away from organized religion. Gave me chillbumps~
I start walking to the crowd of people holding the vigil. As I get closer, I can hear the preacher shouting out his sermon. I stand near the back, so nobody will notice me.
~I wonder who the service is for?~
"Me too," I whisper, "maybe he'll say."
"It's for a young lady that died a year ago," an elderly woman in front of me whispers. "It was very sad... her boyfriend thought she cheated on him and he just killed her."
"You catch any names?" I ask. She shakes her head slowly. I turn my attention to the preacher giving the service.
"... And my brethren, let us not remember the sorrowful times in this young woman's life," he said loudly, "let it not be recalled that she made a terrible mistake in the man she was with. Let us remember the good times she had. The joy in her life. The joy she brought others by her selfless acts..."
~Must've been some woman~
I nod slowly. My attention, however, isn't on the preacher's sermon, it is drawn solely to the preacher himself. He seems vaguely familiar to me, but I can't place it.
"Let us have a minute of silence for the young woman that touched all our lives. Let us reflect on Heather Allen's life and how she lived it."
I stand silently as hundred of people bow their heads and close their eyes. I join them, and when my eyes close, all I can see is Heather standing in front of me, her hair flowing around her head like a halo.
The minute passes by too fast for me, and the preacher starts speaking again.
"I had the blessing to meet Heather during her time on Earth, and she seemed no less to me an angel, and there are hundreds of good things I could say about her. But, would any of you like to say words about her? You sir, in the back. With the bird. Can ya come up here please?"
The crowd parts for me to make my way up to the preacher. As I do, the feeling of peace starts to dissipate and a new feeling, rage, replaces it.
I stand on the platform beside the preacher and look him in the eyes.
~He's scared Eric~
I know, I silently respond, it's because of my face.
~No... there's another reason. I can't place it though. You'll have to~
"Would you like to say your name, brother?" he asks.
"Eric."
("What'll you do if I don't pay you back? Go cryin to your fuckin cunt of a girlfriend?")
I look at him strangely, my head cocked like the bird's.
"Would you like to talk about how Heather touched your life?"
I nod.
"Heather Allen... was in fact, an angel. She was the most beautiful woman that I had ever met. I loved her secretly, and openly. She brought joy to my life that I had never experienced. She touched my heart, my soul, my mind. She became my reason for existing. Until she was taken away."
(Arthur's cousin, David, pulling a gun out and shooting Heather in the stomach)
"I tried to help her in her moment of need... but I couldn't."
(Attacking Arthur and David in a blind fury)
"I lost the things that I valued most when some inhuman MONSTERS came after me for money."
I know him, I tell the crow in my thoughts.
~Then reveal him~
I turned on the preacher.
"YOU WERE THERE!" I hollered. "YOU KILLED HER!"
He looks at me in shock as a gasp rushes through the crowd.
"Arthur Russel Parrot," I growl, "you have been charged with three counts of murder in the first degree... how do you plead?"
"I-I don't know what you're talking about, friend," the preacher stammers, "my name is Reverend Alan Russel."
"You can change your name, Arthur," I whisper, "but you can't change the past." I hold my hand out to him.
"If you don't believe me... take my hand."
He grabs ahold of my hand and I pull him close to me. I wrap my free hand over his face and watch with him as his act of violence is replayed for us alone.
When the memories fade, I push him away and pop my neck loose.
"GET HELP!" someone shouts from the crowd. "HE'S GOING TO KILL THE REVEREND!" The audience scatters like sand in the wind. Only one person is still there.
"How do you plead Arthur? Guilty? Or not guilty?"
He pulls a .38 pistol from beneath his shirt and points it at me.
"NOT! FUCKING! GUILTY!" he screams, emphasising each word with a bullet. I watch the holes close up and look at him.
"Bad move," I say, striking at him like a viper. In one motion, I knock the gun from his hand and wrap my arm around his neck.
Slowly, I walk to the edge of the platform and stand there, my feet barely finding grip.
"You are found guilty in the murders of Eric Price, Heather Allen, and their unborn child," I decree, "the penalty is death by broken neck. Sentence to be carried out immediately. Any last words?"
A few choked gasps come from Arthur's mouth.
"Watch that first step to hell, Arthur... It's a long fall."
I walk off the platform, my arm still around his neck. He falls forward and my weight snaps his neck immediately. I give him a few extra jerks just to make sure.
"I did it... I don't fucking believe I did it..."
~Good job son. Good job~
I let go of Arthur and his head falls forward bonelessly.
I look at the one person still standing at the platform. I recognise him as Heather's father.
~Come on son... Time to go~
"I have to do something first," I whisper to myself and the crow. I walk closer to Heather's father and look at him.
"I know you never liked me, Mr. Allen," I whisper, "and I know that I can't change that. I just want you to know that losing someone you love is the hardest thing to deal with, I know that personally. And I want to tell you I loved Heather more than anything in the world. And that I want you to forgive me."
"Forgive you?" Gary says, on the verge of tears, "what for?"
"For not being able to save your daughter's life..."
I drop to my knees and stay there, looking up at Gary. A tear rolls out of each of his eyes.
"I forgive you, Eric. Now, get up, you have somewhere to go."
~He's right. The Big Light don't wait forever~
I get up and walk away from him. As I do, a bright light opens up in the night sky and stretches to the ground. Inside the light, I can see someone waving for me.
"ERIC!" she shouts. "C'MON!"
I smile and head towards Heather as the crow flies beside me. Halfway through the light, the bird is engulfed in an even brighter light. When the light fades, a tall young man is standing beside me. He is dressed in a tight black shirt and leather pants. And his blonde streaked hair falls to the right. There are remnants of a slash scar on his throat.
"Like I said Eric," he whispers, "the light don't wait forever."
FIN 5/20/99
5 short questions about the story, as asked by Nic DeSorbo to the author, Carl Price:
Nic DeSorbo: Ok, first off, where'd you get the idea for this story? And what's the deal with Eric's (the Crow) mask?
Carl Price: I got the idea for this story from a dream that I had, my girlfriend was involved in a car wreck in the dream and I had to find a way to live without her. One of the first things I did in the dream was ask her father for forgiveness, because he blamned me for her death. About Eric's mask [sighes] it's a tattoo that I have on my stomach of a Celtic symbol: The Eye of Erin.
ND: What's with the anti-church sentiments in this story?
CP: I didn't really think that there were any feelings against churches in this story. If there were, it's because I myself as a person don't feel that church is the mainstay of worshipping a deity.
ND: Do you know what you just said?
CP:I don't have a fucking clue.
ND: About the villian, Arthur Parrot/ Alan Russel, why did you decide to make him a preacher?
CP: I decided that maybe Arthur felt a little bit of grief because of what he did by murdering three people. So I felt that having him change his lifestyle and become a preacher would fit into the entire scheme of the story- Being forgiven for atrocities that were made by your hand or by what you thought. Unfortunately, since Arthur and his friends didn't reveal the entire truth to the authorities, his change of lifestyle didn't do him a bit of good.
ND: Finally, would you like to add to the message of the story? And who was the young man that the crow 'evolved' into?
CP: Sure... Don't try to hide yout past, or hide from mistakes by changing yourself. If you do... you're screwed... bigtime. Forgiveness is the key to change. Oh, and the person the crow transformed into was Carl, the crow that I had in Love Past Death.
ND: Thanks for your time, Carl. I look forward to your next story.
CP: You're welcome Nic.
You readers have Feedback? Flames? Death Threats? Money? Send the first three to the Crow Fan Fiction BBS or email me at elbeaner@hotmail.com. To send money, email me, and I'll give you my home address. :) CP
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