Crow!

The wind was swaying the treetops as

I cut across from the church,

The sun had darkened behind the clouds

When I saw the crow on its perch,

Its feathers fluttered, it looked quite grim

As it sat there, quite on its own,

But watching me with a beady eye

From the top of a blank headstone.

 

I pulled the collar around my ears

And hunched in my overcoat,

The wind was bringing a bitter chill

To whip at my face and throat,

I staggered over and off the path,

Walked over the headstone plot,

And felt a shiver run down my spine

To wonder what time she’d got.

 

The crow had uttered a single ‘caw’

From the depths of its blue-black beak,

Then spread its wings like an avatar

And lashed a gash in my cheek,

I stumbled off, I could feel the blood

As it ran, from under my eye,

And hurried home, though I flung a stone

At the crow as it flew on by.

 

But Rachel stood at the window as

I came in the gate, at last,

She saw the blood, and she put her hand

On up to her mouth, aghast.

I told her it was a minor cut

A thorn on a rose that waved,

She shuddered, flooded her eyes with tears,

Said, ‘Someone walked on my grave!’

 

‘Someone walked on my grave,’ she said

‘Not even an hour ago…’

My mind went back to the headstone, and

The evil glare of the crow.

‘You’re overwrought, you should sit and rest,

Get warm, for the room is dank,’

But all I could see in my mind just then

Was a headstone that was blank.

 

I’d taken her from a cruel home

For her parents both were dead,

She’d been brought up by a grandmother

Who was violent, sick she said.

She’d threatened me when we went away

That she’d not be long my bride,

And Rachel never felt safe with me

‘Til her grandmother had died.

 

I managed to catch the warden when

I saw him, late in the week,

‘Why is that headstone blank?’ I said,

‘Whose is the grave you keep?’

‘There’s no-one buried under that stone,

It was raised for a future soul,

A woman came in the driving rain

And paid for that grave with gold.’

 

‘But surely you have a name for her

In the graveyard book; you’d know.’

He knitted his brow, and thought aloud:

‘I think that her name was Crow!

She dressed in black, in a mourning gown

With a cloak that looked like wings,

Then vanished, as she had first appeared

When I turned to ask her things.’

 

I passed the stone on the way back home,

And I stared, my mouth ajar,

For someone had cut a letter there

In the face of the stone, an ‘R’,

I thought of Rachel, hurried on home

But was late, too late I know,

For flying past as I reached the gate

Was the dread form of the crow.

 

It crashed straight into the window where

My Rachel stood and stared,

Dressed in black, in a mourning gown

It was just as I had feared.

The window smashed as the crow had crashed

With shards of glass all round,

The crow embedded in Rachel’s throat

As she choked her last on the ground.

 

She lay with both of her arms outstretched

Like a pair of wings in black,

The bird ripped open her jugular,

She wouldn’t be coming back.

I knew she’d hated her grandmother,

She remembered every blow,

But didn’t think she’d be coming back

Though her maiden name was ‘Crow!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[minisla]

What a tale. Again has a lovely flow throughout.

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Another exciting tale with a shocking twist as always...

[Avinash]

The story and choice of words make permanent imprint on your psyche. I am a firm believer of strange coincidences which open new vistas..thanks a lot for sharing this masterpiece.

[Lyn Anderson]

One of my favourites of yours for sure. Wonderful images and clever changes in this piece.

[Claire in VA]

How very entertaining! Where on earth did you get this idea?
I like it. I'm peeking out my window at the tombstones across
the road from me, making sure they have names on them.
Claire

[Marie]

Another startling ballad. I'm thinking that either the grandmother was reincarnated as a crow, or her spirit never left the earth, but possessed a crow.