Death's Meadow

A young girl walks through a meadow of dying trees, of lifeless grass. Of broken benches, and broken glass. Blood stains her feet, blood stains the walls. A sinister sound, the crow calls.

“Leave this place, leave at once. Be swift, have grace. Don’t ever come back.”

The young girl stops, she watches and waits. The crow she despises, the crow she hates. She doesn’t know why, she doesn’t know how but she believes it tells her a lie. She loves this place, this dreadful place. It matches her dreadful lace. Her dark dress, her purple stockings.

“I don’t want to leave, not now, not just yet. I’ll tell you what; I’ll make you a bet.”

The crow gawked and spread its wings. A harmful melody it sings.

“A bet with me, a bet with me? A bet you want, you’ll pay a fee. If I win I get your soul, little girl.”

The girl shook with awful fear. But then she jumped with a happy cheer. A grin spread across her face, a grin to match her dreadful lace.

“Now listen crow, this is the bet.”

She pointed to a blood-red puddle.

“Dive into the water without getting wet.”

The crow set down an arm. It said without the slightest charm

“I am the fastest crow around, I am the fastest bird abound. You will see, you will lose. The bet was even yours to choose.”

The crow straightened and set up its beak. It flew and rose to the highest peak. It twisted its body with elegance. It came burning down with arrogance. It came crashing down with a striking boom. The crow’s pride led to its doom. The girl smiled and said

“This place is mine, it always was, and now you are the crow that was. You should have known the puddle wasn’t deep. You should not have taken that leap. Death has been the victim of slaughter, no less by your only daughter.”