They walked down the street, took a couple of turns before coming to a dead
end in an alleyway a mile down the road. Jason sat on the dirty ground, Tom
put his arms around him, and Jason could hear him crying into his shoulder.
He wanted to tell him it would be all ok, but why. He knew it wouldn't be.
He lived in a graveyard for Christ's sake. How could he take care of a boy
when he couldn't take care of himself.
His train of thought stopped when Tom lifted his head from his shoulder, and truend to look into Jason's eyes. Jason didn't think he could see them, the light from the alleyway didn't reach this far back into it, but he sensed that the boy could.
"Why am I here?" Tom asked him. There was a pain in his voice, sadness he was not use to hearing even when his luck was below bad. "Why did I come back? I know I died. If God brought me back, why didn't he do it earlier when my mommy was still here where I can find her?"
He had no answers. He didn't know what to do. He had once heard of something years ago as a child about the dead coming back.
"The crow." Jason said aloud. "The crow brought you back."
Tom looked at him, maybe as if he was crazy, maybe because he didn't understand the significance of the crow.
"Years ago, when I was a young boy around your age, my mother told me a story about a crow. It was no ordinary crow, it had the ability to bring someone back that was wronged. 'The soul wouldn't rest until it had it's revenge', is what she had told me. I never believed it myself, I mean, a crow that could bring back someone. But then when I first found you, before I got you out of your grave, there was a crow on your tombstone. I thought it was a fluke, then realized that that same bird has been following us ever since we left the graveyard."
Jason pointed to a fence nearby, where the moon was slightly casting an illumination upon it. The crow was standing on top of it, his head moving all around, not looking at one thing particularly too long. It then turned in their direction, and flew from the fence post towards Tom's arm. He was frightened for a moment, then he looked at the bird, and Jason felt that the bird was communicating with him. He saw Tom's head nod a couple of times, then the bird flew off, back to the fencepost.
"It says that we have to find my mom, and it knows where she is," Tom said out of the blue. Jason looked into his eyes the best that he could despite not being able to see it all. Tom's eyes stared straight forward, not blinking, not moving.
"Where is your mom at? Is she near by?"
"The crow says that she is close by. Down the street a mile or so.past some big trees.then a right on a street called Sycamore."
"You got all of this from the bird just looking at you."
Tom turned towards, Jason, a smile on his face. "He spoke into my mouth, silly. Birds can't talk."
Tom got up, grabbed Jason's hand, and walked out of the alleyway, turned right, and started to follow the birds instructions. The crow was above them, giving the boy instructions as to where to turn. After an hour it seemed, they came upon Sycamore Avenue, they turned right, and came face to face to a cemetary. Tom stopped walking, stood still as Jason took a closer step towards it. 'Sycamore Cematary' was the name on the sign next to the opening.
He turned around, looked back Tom who was laying on the ground in a fetal position, crying and rocking himself. Jason came to his side, lifted him and held him. "It's going to be ok." was all he could say. He held him like this for several minutes until the crying stopped, then when he looked down, he saw that Tom was afraid.
Jason got up and walked to the cemetery entrance, pushed open the fence, and turned to the left. He found a concrete slab, and put Tom down, then took off his jacket and placed it over him. He then strolled throughout the cemetery, looking for him mom. He wasn't sure why he would find her, he didn't have her first or last name, but he knew he would.
After a minute or so, he heard the crow in the distance, and started to run towards it. There it stood, on top of a small plaque in the grass. Bending over, he read an inscription on it:
Martha Bentley Born: March 16, 1966 - Died: October 12, 1994 Loved: By all who knew her
"She left behind family and friends to go be with her son in the afterlife, the one thing she cherished more than her own life. May God forgive her soul for what she did. We will miss her here, and look forward to seeing her later in heaven with Tom, her son."
Jason looked away from the plaque, and made his way back to Tom. He thought the whole trip back, on how the mother had killed herself a year after her son had died. She must have been overwhelmed with pain and sadness. Jason himself had never experienced anything like that, and probably never will, being alone for most of his life.
He came upon the concrete slab where Tom was still sleeping. He got on top of it, and crawled up next to him. Tom flipped over in his sleep, now facing Jason. His right arm came up and wrapped itself around Jason's neck. He left it there, not going to move it, not sure what tomorrow will bring. Not sure where to go from here.
Ok, now I know that this one is not as long as the rest of them, and that it came suddenly, but I had to end this point of the story quickly to get to the better parts. And to let you all know, I have an R-rating on this story because, though the first 3 chapters are nothing (maybe PG at best), the rest get gruesome, disgusting, not because I want I have to, but because what you find out from here on out describes the fury of The Crow.
For those that have never read this before, this is my first fan-fic for an idea created by James O'Barr. I first noticed his idea while watching the movie THE CROW, and it wasn't until this year that I saw the other two movies, and started to buy the comics revolving Eric Draven and other characters.
To end this note, I have received one review, and encourage more if you seem fit to take the time to write one in for me. If you know ways of having me improve the story, email me at my email address given. The only way to improve on something is to have it critiqued. I have one review for this story, though anonymous, and if you write back in, let your name be known. You have nothing to hide, if you like it, be proud that you read it. If you do leave a review with a corresponding name, I promise I will critique your work, not out of guilt that you read mine, but because I am a writer, and I read too darn much, and enjoy the works of others.
Ok, enough of me for today, I have done 1 ½ chapters sitting here at work, will start another, may even finish, but enough of that. It is the weekend of Labor Day, lets all get lazy and do nothing but read and barbeque.
His train of thought stopped when Tom lifted his head from his shoulder, and truend to look into Jason's eyes. Jason didn't think he could see them, the light from the alleyway didn't reach this far back into it, but he sensed that the boy could.
"Why am I here?" Tom asked him. There was a pain in his voice, sadness he was not use to hearing even when his luck was below bad. "Why did I come back? I know I died. If God brought me back, why didn't he do it earlier when my mommy was still here where I can find her?"
He had no answers. He didn't know what to do. He had once heard of something years ago as a child about the dead coming back.
"The crow." Jason said aloud. "The crow brought you back."
Tom looked at him, maybe as if he was crazy, maybe because he didn't understand the significance of the crow.
"Years ago, when I was a young boy around your age, my mother told me a story about a crow. It was no ordinary crow, it had the ability to bring someone back that was wronged. 'The soul wouldn't rest until it had it's revenge', is what she had told me. I never believed it myself, I mean, a crow that could bring back someone. But then when I first found you, before I got you out of your grave, there was a crow on your tombstone. I thought it was a fluke, then realized that that same bird has been following us ever since we left the graveyard."
Jason pointed to a fence nearby, where the moon was slightly casting an illumination upon it. The crow was standing on top of it, his head moving all around, not looking at one thing particularly too long. It then turned in their direction, and flew from the fence post towards Tom's arm. He was frightened for a moment, then he looked at the bird, and Jason felt that the bird was communicating with him. He saw Tom's head nod a couple of times, then the bird flew off, back to the fencepost.
"It says that we have to find my mom, and it knows where she is," Tom said out of the blue. Jason looked into his eyes the best that he could despite not being able to see it all. Tom's eyes stared straight forward, not blinking, not moving.
"Where is your mom at? Is she near by?"
"The crow says that she is close by. Down the street a mile or so.past some big trees.then a right on a street called Sycamore."
"You got all of this from the bird just looking at you."
Tom turned towards, Jason, a smile on his face. "He spoke into my mouth, silly. Birds can't talk."
Tom got up, grabbed Jason's hand, and walked out of the alleyway, turned right, and started to follow the birds instructions. The crow was above them, giving the boy instructions as to where to turn. After an hour it seemed, they came upon Sycamore Avenue, they turned right, and came face to face to a cemetary. Tom stopped walking, stood still as Jason took a closer step towards it. 'Sycamore Cematary' was the name on the sign next to the opening.
He turned around, looked back Tom who was laying on the ground in a fetal position, crying and rocking himself. Jason came to his side, lifted him and held him. "It's going to be ok." was all he could say. He held him like this for several minutes until the crying stopped, then when he looked down, he saw that Tom was afraid.
Jason got up and walked to the cemetery entrance, pushed open the fence, and turned to the left. He found a concrete slab, and put Tom down, then took off his jacket and placed it over him. He then strolled throughout the cemetery, looking for him mom. He wasn't sure why he would find her, he didn't have her first or last name, but he knew he would.
After a minute or so, he heard the crow in the distance, and started to run towards it. There it stood, on top of a small plaque in the grass. Bending over, he read an inscription on it:
Martha Bentley Born: March 16, 1966 - Died: October 12, 1994 Loved: By all who knew her
"She left behind family and friends to go be with her son in the afterlife, the one thing she cherished more than her own life. May God forgive her soul for what she did. We will miss her here, and look forward to seeing her later in heaven with Tom, her son."
Jason looked away from the plaque, and made his way back to Tom. He thought the whole trip back, on how the mother had killed herself a year after her son had died. She must have been overwhelmed with pain and sadness. Jason himself had never experienced anything like that, and probably never will, being alone for most of his life.
He came upon the concrete slab where Tom was still sleeping. He got on top of it, and crawled up next to him. Tom flipped over in his sleep, now facing Jason. His right arm came up and wrapped itself around Jason's neck. He left it there, not going to move it, not sure what tomorrow will bring. Not sure where to go from here.
Ok, now I know that this one is not as long as the rest of them, and that it came suddenly, but I had to end this point of the story quickly to get to the better parts. And to let you all know, I have an R-rating on this story because, though the first 3 chapters are nothing (maybe PG at best), the rest get gruesome, disgusting, not because I want I have to, but because what you find out from here on out describes the fury of The Crow.
For those that have never read this before, this is my first fan-fic for an idea created by James O'Barr. I first noticed his idea while watching the movie THE CROW, and it wasn't until this year that I saw the other two movies, and started to buy the comics revolving Eric Draven and other characters.
To end this note, I have received one review, and encourage more if you seem fit to take the time to write one in for me. If you know ways of having me improve the story, email me at my email address given. The only way to improve on something is to have it critiqued. I have one review for this story, though anonymous, and if you write back in, let your name be known. You have nothing to hide, if you like it, be proud that you read it. If you do leave a review with a corresponding name, I promise I will critique your work, not out of guilt that you read mine, but because I am a writer, and I read too darn much, and enjoy the works of others.
Ok, enough of me for today, I have done 1 ½ chapters sitting here at work, will start another, may even finish, but enough of that. It is the weekend of Labor Day, lets all get lazy and do nothing but read and barbeque.