This story begins where all the stories do. In a place that once had great love. But this apartment was trashed. Love no longer lived there. Several people had left flowers in the doorway and one brave soul taped the newspaper article to the center of the hardwood floor. "Five teens tragically murdered," the newspaper declared, looming in huge print over a picture of four smiling girls and a stoic faced boy. The windows were smashed, furniture was overturned and the separate rooms were ransacked. A woman stopped in the main doorway, holding up a bunch of letters. She shook her head and took off down the hall and down two sets of stairs. Flicking a strand of hair out of her hair, she got in her car and drove the 14 miles to Andiron Cemetery, parking her car outside the gates.
She picked her way through the head stones to stand in front of the five new plots along the back wall. The Wiccans had been there before her, setting down the symbols for which each of the girls had been known.
The first grave stood for Air, the small and care free girl who was often mistaken as the baby. Somebody had left a bundle of feathers and another had left a tiny dream catcher across the broad top of the stone.
The second grave stood for Fire, the reluctant leader who was more than willing to resort to violence. There were nearly fifty tiny half melted votive candles surrounding the base. A box of matches sat atop the stone, just like the previous grave.
The next grave sat in the direct middle of the five. This grave had not been decorated by the Wiccans except for a silver pentagram pendant the size of a quarter on a chain. This grave had been ignored just as the man beneath it had been. People recognized him on the street but the only people to truly care about him were the four girls that resided next to him.
Directly to the right of this center plot was where they had laid Water to rest. There was a water lily in a small jar resting at the base along with a cowry shell necklace. Atop the grave sat a tiny sand dollar of the palest white. Water was as free flowing as her name suggested but steady and strong to the people who cared about her.
At the end was Earth, the simple and sweet artist who had been ready to defend her friends. An abundance of flowers surrounded the base, most wildflowers and black-eyed susans. A thin polished stone sat on the top of the marker.
The woman paused and leaned towards the center grave. "You were wonderful, brother," she whispered to no one. "I wish I could have known you that wonderful. I wish I had realized."
She kissed the tips of her fingers and touched them to the marble. As tears welled up in her eyes, she spun and stormed out of the graveyard, hugging her coat to her as the wind whipped. In the distance she thought she heard a crow cawing. 'A murder of crows,' she remembered with a shiver. As she drove off, a black shape descended on the center headstone, picking and playing with the silver pentagram. Thunder crashed over the city and the pavement rumbled everywhere.
((A/N: If you like it, review and I will continue. If I get no reviews, I won't continue it.))