Rhyming with Crows
By Sandra A.
One for sorrow.
The crow has been circling up in the sky for hours now, letting its irregular croaks shatter the unbearable silence. Its heavy wings seemed to be the only movement in the vicinity. It was funny how an omen for death was the only life on this day.
The child stood still among the others dressed in black. Together they gathered around the prepared grounds, the white marble gravestone, smooth as it remained situated in the earth, and the coffin carved from rich mahogany. Then there was the pile of soil shoveled meticulously, slowly but surely, for it would be the final resting place of someone who was so dearly loved. The child was a lone girl, her name was Elena, 'Lena', and she was watching the proceedings of her twin’s burial, Melanie, 'Lanie'. Her grief was not apparent: the absolute anguish had not marred her face, but instead it was a cold facade of nothingness, no tears and no pain, because she lost her joy and happiness as well.
Two for mirth.
Another joins the circling crow, their caws settling as they spin up high in the air, where far below, voices tear the quiet.
The reception was slightly better: for one it was warmer, and small strained smiles had been passed around as the many people recounted tales of the 'Demolition Duo'. Elena and Melanie both had a flair for incendiary actions and often accomplished far more together. There had been that time they taped their friends’ belongings on the ceiling, the time when they coated a classroom with never-ending photos of different students' faces, or when they released several goats to roam the hallways, and that time they ending up pranking themselves when the entire school spent their time cleaning up the cups of water on the floor of the building. Of course neither of them were ever caught or proved to be the masterminds behind the mischief. Laughs were drifting, not completely genuine and open like when the shenanigans had occurred, because there was something lying underneath, but it was a glimmer and that was enough.
Three for death.
Up in the empty tree branches, a third crow was perched, shuffling its haunches as it maneuvers its great black wings to dispel the chill in the breeze.
The small joys had been abandoned as Elena finally joined the reception, for she had been standing vigil by her sister for one last time, choking out a goodbye she never wanted to say. When she faced the congregation, she cowered, inching away as many gazes flew to her hunched figure. Their thoughts turned back to the immediate matter of the situation which was the death of Melanie, and perhaps the sister Elena as well, as the people saw the crushing emptiness that Elena was wallowing in. Many of the adults found themselves in a predicament, whether to let the remaining twin stay alone to sort herself out or to smother her in comfort. The conversations drifted back, the words reasonably tamer as they waited for Elena to be coaxed out of her shell with the quiet tales of Melanie. They repeated the stories already told, waited and watched to see if Elena would join with her memories to tell as well.
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