After that little cliffy, I figured it was time to post the next chapter. Don't worry, Sarela Jade I didn't forget or stop. I was just merely allowing the last chapter to sink in and to let all those who haven't seen the story in a while to catch up. But I do appreciate your loyalty.
I'm glad to see my old readers are back for more. Sorry again that it took so long.
Anywho, here's the next installation. Enjoy.
Crow and Dove
Chapter 6:
Cold, warm, wet, dry, soft, hard, black, bright, pain, joy, confusion, understanding, bewilderment, disdain.
Emotions and feelings assaulted the man as his senses registered all that was him; all that was around him.
The rain was cold but his body was warm with the heat of fresh blood flowing through his veins.
The ground beneath him was wet with mud but his hat kept his head fairly dry.
The earth was soft and he grabbed two fistfuls of the moist dirt but the slab of stone beside him was hard against his back.
It was dark all around him but in the distance where a soft light shone from the church that watched over the graveyard. Shadows produced by the light spread out in all directions until merging into the rest of the black.
He felt the pain of life: the sharp intake of breath that froze his lungs; the cold wind blowing against him and making him shiver. But the joy of being alive warmed him.
He was confused as to where he was; who he was. But understanding that he was indeed alive mingled with his questions and made them appear by far less critical. And that fact that he was alive brought shock and loathing. He was supposed to be sleeping. Why had he been woken?
The shrill cry of a bird brought him back to the present and he looked to the gravestone. A black bird stared back at him, its head tilting each side to gaze upon the man that knelt in the mud above an open grave. The man stared back into those dark eyes and in those mirrors of black, he saw a man.
The man's expression was a mixture of shock and confusion. Sharp blue eyes met his from a pale face with dark patches under the eyes. The cheeks were shallow from hunger and the lips thin. A thin layer of stubble lined his chin and curled around his mouth.
The man was thin but contained a hidden strength in those muscular arms and broad shoulders built from years of labor. His clothes clung to his wet body and a tattered hat drooped over his eyes. Dark hair curled at his shoulders and dripped with water.
Still looking into the bird's glistening eye, the man lifted a hand up towards his face and was taken aback when he saw the man in that dark mirror do the same.
The man tore his eyes away from the crow, breaking the spell. He looked down at his hands covered in mud and took note of the calloused fingers and large palms. These hands weren't his.
Breathing raggedly with fear, the man jumped to his feet and examined his body. He wore the same thing the man in the bird's eye had been wearing. He had been looking in a mirror; he had been looking at himself.
But that just couldn't be!
The crow cawed at him loudly, attracting his attention. The crow hopped on the gravestone, tapping his beak against the hard granite expectantly.
The man swallowed heavily but reached out a tentative hand toward the grave. He had just enough time to register the name on the grave before his fingers touched the stone and a memory was forced into his mind.
A drunken man ambled though the graveyard, singing audibly as he drank from his bottle of alcohol. He stopped to rest before a grave and sang a verse from a song created long ago. Suddenly, a hand broke out of the earth and latched onto the man. His screaming rang in the night as the body pulled itself out of its grave. A crow flew towards the screaming man and clinging corpse, its wings touching the foreheads of both men. Then the man silenced and fell to the ground as the corpse sank back into the earth. The ever watchful crow circled over the fallen man's head, cawing loudly. Then the man pushed himself up and looked at the stars for the first time in six years.
Eric Draven covered his face with his hands and screamed. The voice that tore from his throat was foreign on his tongue and the hands felt rough on his face.
This wasn't his voice. These weren't his hands. This wasn't his body.
Memories came flooding unbidden into his mind.
It was Halloween: the night of his wedding with his beloved Shelley. He had left for only a moment but when he returned, a gang of men were abusing his finacee. He tried to protect her but they shot him and threw him out the window. He had died before her.
Eric threw himself to the ground, his screams echoing through the night. His fingers dug into his forehead; trying to claw at his mind and stop the onslaught of visions swimming behind his closed eyelids.
It seemed like he had only been asleep for the night before he was awaken and thrust back into the world of the living. He returned to his home to find the place desecrated. Renewed anger emanated from his body as he swore revenge upon the men who had ended both his life and that of his love's. He colored his face in a disguise and left to start the hunt for those that had wronged him.
Eric's hands slid down his face to grip his chest. The heart in the body where his mind resided beat rapidly; painfully. The rain pelted his unprotected body but he was numb to it. He turned his exposed face to the sky and arched his back as the pain of life beat his poor body.
One by one he hunted down the men that had killed his wife. He followed the chain of minions to their master: T-Bird. A single shot of a gun had rendered him vulnerable but he still fought that ruthless man. A final showdown on the roof of the church ended the life of the infamous crime boss and Eric was finally allowed to return to Shelley in death.
Water ran down his face but it wasn't rain. His vision burned with hot tears that streamed down his cheeks to mix with the mud of the earth. His voice grew coarse from screaming and he stopped from the pain. He sagged against the ground, breathing heavily from the mere exertion of breathing. The tears wouldn't stop and soon he was sobbing.
A flash of straw-colored hair. A dazzling smile that managed to shine brightly despite the dark streets and weeping sky. A pleading gaze; a kind word; a warm body pressed against his in a hug. The sound of his name both in reverence and in fear. A curse and then a softened thank you.
Eric's cries subsided as a new memory pushed through the darkness of his mind. It was the memory of a child whom had befriend him and then had grown loyal to both he and Shelley. A child that spent so much time with them that they began to considered her their own daughter. A child with such stubborn strength and a burning determination.
She called for him, she cried for him, she smiled for him. He ran to her, he held her, he smiled back. He fought even when vulnerable to save her. He wanted her safe. He wanted her with him but knew it could not be. He left her to return to Shelley but allowed her to keep one last token of his and Shelley's existence: a ring.
Eric opened his eyes and looked to the sky as the rain lessened and finally stopped.
Slowly, he crawled back to his feet, still looking to the clouded sky. The crow watched him silently from its perch on the gravestone.
"Sarah."
_._._._._._._
Yes, Eric's soul has been transferred to a new body. And don't say it's OOC because the whole fact that Eric came back to life in the first place is sci-fi. I'm merely adding more fiction. And, think about it. After six years, Eric's body would have been pretty decomposed. He'll explain that himself later though.
I hope your satisfied Sarela. And I hope you enjoyed it. And don't worry about your comments. I do very much enjoy and appreciate them. ^_^
A thanks to all those that are still reading.
Until next time,
Hobey-Ho