[Authors Note: Obviously I do not own any sort of rights related to The Crow mythos. However these characters and situations are my own and I hope that this and any future postings here are taken as a compliment to the universe created by James O'Barr.
I'd just like to thank James O'Barr for writing such an incredible love/tragedy. And to Brandon Lee for bringing the character to stunning realisation. May I one-day fly as high.
Sincerely…]
***
White. A pure, innocent, cleansing white. The world was a sheet of beauty. An icey, yet inviting, mist covered all. Inanimate. Living. And dead.
Swooping high above the invisible rooftops, it flew. And down. Lower until buildings and life (lifelessness) could be seen. But they were not its interest. Not its destination.
It was not dark but it was night
So quiet.
***
The church. It was small but not tiny, certainly no cathedral. The rise and fall of its Hero forever illustrated in its windows. His symbols addorning the walls. Holy to some.
The 400-year-old building, so beautifully decorated, was empty. Its animated inhabitants had left for the day and now there was no life there. None at all.
And the graveyard. Hallowed ground. The home for so many loved and lost. Flat stones of all shapes and sizes stood all around. Some to attention and others weathered and wilted. Some were small, others large. Some were unengaging to the eye. Others, statues. Angels. Children. All had been loved. So much love. So much pain. So many tears had fallen on these hallowed grounds.
So loved.
A small statue of a cherub. A child holding its hands. A single tear neatly placed rolling down its cheek. At its feet lay a 6ft opening.
Freshly opened.
Inside a once hidden box that had lay undisturbed for many years.
Freshly opened.
The lid was open and its contents were now missing. Signs of an inside struggle, something trying to break out. The sheer rage and violence needed to force 6ft of earth to move was evident on the once beautiful satin coverings.
But now there was no violence. No rage. All was peaceful and all was serene, here in the white world.
And it was here that he sat.
At the end of the open grave, staring at the statue. Lost and Confused. Scared and alone.
The haunted body could do nothing but stare. There was a tear on each cold cheek. He felt so much pain. So many emotions ran through his mind. Screaming. Pleading. Begging.
So scared.
The world was so blurry to his eyes. He hadn't used them for so long. The cold hurt so much and the white was so bright.
And now there was movement. He began to crawl forward around the chasm, to the statue. As he drew closer he put out his hand and placed it on the snowy block. The white ice bit at his nerves with fury. So many sensations. All screaming at him. Pain roared around his small frame and tortured him.
The snow fell away revealing cold stone. He brushed back and forth revealing an inscripton. His mind scrambled to decipher the language once so recognised. It began to relearn that which it used to know. And what he read shook him to his very being.
Daniel Michael Andrews
1984 – 1995
A pain blasted from his palm toward his elbow.
Forever Our Angel.
Our Shining Star.
Missed And Loved.
May The Angels Keep You
Safe And Warm.
Until We Are Together Again.
He fell back into the snow but his eyes never left their focus. Fighting his fear he held out his hand and placed it over the name. The pain blasted again. He held on and it careened past his elbow through his shoulder, up his neck and into the core of his mind where it exploded in a barage of images.
A wire. A razor. A note.
And red.
And as fast as it had attacked it was gone.
So alone.
***
The evening's wind carried the messenger to its destination. Into focus came the church. Swooping around it could make out the victim motionless amongst the stones, looking like monoliths against his small frame.
The hunted.
The hunter.
Silently it glided on to a nearby tree and watched. Just allowing the first memories to return, those that would ignite the flame and begin the furnace.
He began to realise the world around him. The other stones so peaceful and undisturbed. He was the only one. The only one who had awoken.
And then he felt the other presence. A comfort began to seep into consciouseness. He turned and came eye to eye with the life, the only life in the graveyard. A Crow, seemingly huge but non-threatening. Spreading its wings, it descended from the tree and perched on the headstone next to him.
And again, all was still. They simply looked at each other, with no fear or sounds passed between them. The frozen tears slowly worked their way over the contoures of his dead skin and his mind tried to process all the information that was running through it.
This was all suddenly silenced by a voice. Not spoken aloud but within.
Daniel?
He jumped but was instantly calm.
Daniel can you hear me? It's ok, Daniel. I'm here for you.
Daniel stared at the Crow.
Yes, it's me, son. Don't be afraid.
"Wha…" he gasped and coughed, his voice grated and ached. Swallowing, "Who are you?"
I am your guide. I am your adopted Father. I am here, for you.
He couldn't word the feelings he felt. The vocabulary simply wasn't there. "Where's my mommy?"
She's not here. None of them are here, Daniel. I'm sorry.
"I want my mom." His serated throat choked and he began to cry harder.
Daniel. Please. There is a reason. Do you understand?
"Where did they go?"
Listen to me Daniel. There is no one else here for you. It's just you and I. Do you remember son? Do you remember what
they did?"What? Who?"
Think.
Daniel felt the Crow look deep into his eyes. He could feel the stare on the inside of his skull. And the pain came again. And the images came again.
A wire. A razor. A note.
And red.
But now there were voices. Laughing. Jeering. Dear God, what were they doing. Why couldn't they leave him alone?
So many images, all screaming and shouting at him in his voice. And then he was washed in red and all went to black.
It was their fault, Daniel. You shouldn't be here. It wasn't your time. Do you understand?
He thought, trying to piece it together. Someof it felt so familiar, it was there but he just couldn't remember. Until it slowly began to fall into place.
He hadn't realised that his gaze had fallen back his resting place, that cold grave.
Daniel turned back to the Crow. "Am I…did I die?"
Yes.
The voice said no more. Daniel struggled with the jigsaw. Slowly he looked down to his hands. Turning them over, he began to see the start of a line. A wound across his wrists. Markings of a cut and subsequent sewing to close them. And with it came more picures, a movie in his mind,
A slice to his left hand, seen through pain.
A slice to his right hand seen through hate.
" I did this"
The bird didn't reply, it simply closed it eyes and bowed its head. But there was more. Daniel raised his right hand to his neck and felt for what he knew was there. Feeling the tenderness of his skin he could identify a rough feeling which ran all the way around.
A piece of wire coiled. Tied around a stairpost.
A snap.
And the end. Another cut. Larger than the ones on his wrist, and more vicious. It wasn't just the lack of use mixed with icey coldness that made his throat hurt so much.
A blade flashed with haste. A million nerves screamed in horror. And all became dark. And .cold.
So cold.
"Why am I here?"
To end your suffering. To be at peace.
"Then can I go home? Iwant to go home."
Then you will go home, Daniel.
"Will mommy and daddy be there?" Daniel could almost feel the creature smile He was so innocent.
Yes, son. Mommy and daddy will be there. They'll all be there waiting for you. But first…
"I have to do something. I have to find them don't I? Those that hurt me?"
Yes, boy. Their time has come. You shouldn't be here. But they, now, must.
Daniel wiped the frozen tears from his face. He stumbled to his feet. Learning to balance all over again. He turned and looked toward the churchyard exit. "Where do I go?"
First, you must paint. Like the others before you.
More movies played in Daniels haunted mind. Different people. Men and women, young and old. Faster and faster, more and more. All with a sign. A look. A mask to hide their tears. The rush was so powerful Daniel collapsed back into the snow.
There…
The bird arose and flew across to the corner of the church. The snow there had become contaminated and mixed with the dirt. It wasn't ice like the rest but sludgey, paint-like mud.
Daniel stood again and worked his way over to the Crow. As he moved past the windows of the church he caught a flash of his reflection and stopped. The coloured pieces of glass formed to show the image of Christ holding out his hands to 3 children. Lovingly.
Daniel gazed into one of the pieces and could see a child looking back at him. Staring into his eyes. Into his soul. The child in the reflection was sad. Daniel could see the pain on the childs face. The brown hair blowing across the childs forehead in the cold winter night. And he could see the cut across the childs throat. He reached out and touched the glass as the child did the same. The cut was so much bigger than the ones on his wrists. He couldn't turn away. His reflection looked so haunted.
Daniel.
Daniel turned and continued to where the Crow was sitting. He could see the puddle.
This will do, son.
He knelt down and pushed his hands into the slushy coldness and took a handful. As he brought them out he stood and faced the glass once more.
He slowly watched as the reflection took on a new persona. The sadness became buried. And an air of darkness took over.
Good boy. Now come, we don't have much time.
And with that the bird took off flying just off of the ground and out of the churchyard. Daniel turned and followed it into the night. The cold lonely night.
So quiet.
So loved.
So scared.
So alone.
So cold.