Grainne's second life

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room.

Or, at least, that's what Grainne thought. But who knew how well babies could actually see? The little girl was probably as blind as a bat. She could do with a pair of bifocals. The aforementioned child was cooing in her pastel pink cot, her little arms reaching for a glowing yellow star hanging high above her baldy head.

Grainne perched in a dying tree, her dark feathers ruffled against the wind. She tried to itch her wing, but she ended up nipping herself and felt another surge of hatred for this stupid bird form.

She sighed internally as she prepared for flight, watching the baby coo one last time through the window. The older boy who lived there dashed into the room, no doubt hiding from his stepfather. But she had other things to worry about.

Grainne's ink drop eyes narrowed at the moody sky, the spits of rain aching to fall. As she sidled to the edge of the branch, she glimpsed the ground far away and felt a very human sense of vertigo. The she leapt.

The wind shoved her sideways and she nearly slammed into the wall of the old house, its crumbling walls and broken gutters looking unsavoury in the dying light. Climate change and neglect were really wrecking what was once a nice home, Grainne thought sadly, as she righted herself. The wind stopped fighting her and she soared, her beak tilted upwards to see the view of the bare jagged mountains.

She banked right, leaving the muddy driveway behind, and headed towards her prison, the icy barren graveyard.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

She landed on a large stone bowl, carved high above the church entrance. The graveyard was full of grey stones and crisp yellow grass. There were no other animals in sight. Only Grainne. Her eyes drifted to a pale gravestone near the iron gate, relatively newer than the others, the writing still clear. Her gravestone.

Her mother had written: Here lies Grainne, beloved daughter.

However, Grainne would have chosen: Here lies Grainne...death is only the beginning.

She really missed watching The Mummy film, which the iconic line was from. Honestly, it was strange the things she missed after being reincarnated as an irritated baby crow abandoned by its mother. But that part was familiar to her.

Her mother had buried Grainne, packed her bags and moved to the east coast with her boring boyfriend. It didn't matter that her daughter had been murdered. These were dangerous times, she had said, with climate change wreaking havoc on the landscape. There were dangerous characters everywhere. The police had shrugged, and sauntered back to the city, more concerned with the troublesome riots than a young dead girl, beaten to death and dumped in a field. So Grainne was stuck cawing in her stone bowl, ranting in crow about the injustice of life and death.

She saw her creep of a murderer slink past the church one day, dragging the boy from the house she had been watching. The boy was around twelve years old, his resentful eyes downcast as the man gripped his arm.

"Faster, you pain in the 'rse. You want a black eye to match your mam?" The murderous man growled.

Grainne had shuddered, remembering that low voice as he beat her until everything went dark. The boy had shook his head and sped up to match his stepfather's pace.

Despite her sympathy, Grainne had to admit that aside from the murderous abusive stepfather, the boy was a little shit. As she settled into her bowl, he appeared. A threadbare blue hoodie, dirty trainers, a scowl and a mop of greasy fair hair. He leant down, picked up a stone and then flashed a cheeky grin her way. He launched the stone and it clanged against the bowl. She squawked in outrage. This was the boy she was trying to save from abuse and possible death? He was an ingrate.

Despite begging all possible gods (in crow) why she was confined to live as a bird next to her own grave, they never answered. Or perhaps their only answer was the fact she couldn't fly further than three miles from the graveyard. If she tried, she would inevitably hit a barrier of hard air. She had nearly fallen to death once or twice in the attempt.

The boy threw another stone and Grainne was absolutely fizzing. She leapt from her bowl and screamed at him, a series of strangled crow squawks coming from her beak. She divebombed him and he swore, jumping backwards.

"Get away, you crazy bird!" He yelled.

She landed on the ground, glowering at him. Maybe it was time for drastic action. She had pecked at the boy's window to get his attention and had led a hungry wild dog to the garage door one day. The dog had ended up bolting after the crazy stepfather shot at it. So much for mauling the evil psycho to death. But a bird could dream.

She extended a talon and and scratched a message into the dirt under the yellow grass:

Not crazy

"What the-the...I'm going nuts, you're a bird..." The boy stammered, backing away as if Grainne were a winged devil.

I'm Grainne

He gasped, going white as bone. He began to shake. Oh, he knew who Grainne Peterson was. The annoying neighbour who had pissed off his stepfather, which was never a wise move.

"Grainne?" He whispered. "Is it really you?"

The bird cawed in frustration and scratched a third message:

Your father murderer. Need to get him

The boy went very still, his eyes wide. But Grainne wondered how this was a surprise to him. She had watched the boy as he took blows to the face from the creep. It was a wonder that he wasn't stuck in this graveyard with her.

"Oh my...oh my god! It's true..." The boy stammered. But Grainne didn't have time for dramatics. The bad weather was only getting worse and she wanted a good long rest before she battled her nemesis and saved this kid.

She scratched one more message:

Meet here tomorrow 9am

Then she allowed the wind to pluck her from the earth and dump her into the bowl. The boy stood gaping, terror coating his bones as he realised who exactly he was going home to.

·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

They met the next morning and, after another bout of dramatics, they began to formulate a plan. Grainne perched on the gravestone of one Elisabeth Fisher. She had been a nosy old codger who had died after a passionate night with the elderly owner of the local bar. Who was married. So Grainne didn't feel bad when she emptied her bowels onto the headstone, while the boy looked on in horror.

"That's gross! What about respecting the dead?" He whined.

She glared at him and landed onto the ground, scracthing a message.

I'm already dead.

"Fair enough. So what's our plan?"

Grainne sighed internally. This was going to hurt her beak. The miserable sky spat rain at them, the warm weather a gift of human meddling with the environment. But her plan was solid enough. Grainne wanted to piss off Charlie Cokehead, the drug kingpin of the barren west coast. He was a lanky older man with ice cold eyes. He ended any chancer stupid enough to cheat him. The creep would be next on his hit list.

She inscribed her plan in the dirt, which took a bit of time. The boy looked confused at first and then started shaking in terror.

"You're mental! I can't tell Charlie's men that Jim's starting a rival supply. They'll kill my entire family!"

Grainne shook her soaking wet head, thoroughly tired. Charlie and his men had some form of twisted criminal honour. They never attacked women or children. After all, the police weren't interested in drugs these days. They had no one to hide from. She had made sure, watching the criminals in their homes and meeting places. It had been rather gruesome. She wrote this down.

"All I have to do is brag about my stepdad's supply in front of them? This is crazy."

Grainne gestured to the graveyard with a wing. She gave the boy a look which he understood. Do you want to be here one day soon? She asked. The boy breathed in the sulphorous scent of dying things. He wanted to live.

"Alright."

Grainne tried to smile and fantasised about flying south, her death avenged.

·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Grainne watched her murderer as he hollered for food.

"Lizzie! Get me some damn breakfast, woman!"

His ugly face was thin and his piggy eyes were mean and dim. He glared at the boy, who tried to scuttle past him.

"You little shit!" He shouted and cuffed him. The boy yelped. The little baby started crying upstairs and the creep cuffed the boy again. There was no reason for the rage, it just existed. Grainne had been a victim of that bottomless anger.

When the boy finally snuck out the door, Grainne remained for a moment. To watch him. But Jim's face never wavered. No peace descended after the rage was done. There was just endless bitterness. She flew away.

·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Of course I know the plan." The boy hissed, glowering at her message in the dirt. They were slowly making their way to the local shop, which one of Charlie's goons owned. The boy was going to strike up a conversation with the owner's teenaged son who worked there and brag about Jim's alleged supply. Then he was going to get the hell out of there and they would reconvene at the graveyard.

The shop door banged open as a spotty young man hefted a box outside. Grainne remembered him. He used to try and chat her up, and she would yawn, making her boredom obvious. The boy gulped at the sight of the teenager.

"Hey, Ryan." He said in a high pitched voice. The spotty boy scowled. "How are you doing?"

Ryan muttered an annoyed hello and turned to leave. No! Grainne cawed, willing the boy to keep his attention.

"I bet you won't be doing dodgy deliveries for long. Not now that Jim's poaching your customers."

Ryan froze and stared at the boy in shock. The boy just continued into the shop and Ryan followed behind him, asking angry questions. Worry settled in Grainne's tiny stomach. Was she putting him in too much danger? But he was only a kid. That would shield him.

Time passed. Grainne could see the boy being questioned by the owner. A phone call was made. More hungry hot rain fell, hammering the earth. Too much time had passed. Grainne was about to try and fly in the shop door when-

The boy rushed out. His face was ashen. With only a fleeting look at Grainne, he ran away.

Grainne leapt from her spot on the wall, just as the owner of the shop came barrelling out, his face feral. As she beat her wings in desperation, tracking the boy down the street, a black car screeched to a stop in front of the shop. Angry voices alighted the humid air as they both raced towards the graveyard.

Grainne caught up with him as they passed the hedges lining the graveyard.

"Charlie Cokehead's coming!" The boy sobbed, tears streaking down his young face. But this was the plan! Grainne thought. So why did it feel so wrong?

Even as they approached the iron gate, yells punctured the quiet. A man appeared from around a corner and batted Grainne out the way. He grabbed the boy, who was kicking and screaming, and dragged him down the road into the black car.

"We'll see what Jim has to say for himself." The man snarled.

Grainne cawed in fear and pain, a drip of blood falling onto her talons. The man had hurt her...but the boy was gone! Oh god, this was all her fault! She was on the ground, but she had to get up. She couldn't let it all fade to black like before...

Grainne forced her wings to beat as she begged the wind for flight. He couldn't die. He couldn't end up like her.

The wind heard her call and answered in kind. A ghostly wail slithered over the dead stones and finally reached the ground where Grainne staggered, trying to take off. The wind twisted underneath her wings and suddenly she was flying! It threw her like a javelin into the air, towards Jim's prison of a home.

·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

She darted through an open window, the cut above her eye aching. Shouts were filling the living room, and a woman was crying. Grainne flew down the stairs and met chaos.

The kidnapper was still gripping the boy, who was shaking and pale. Charlie Cokehead stood in front of them, his glacial eyes analysing Jim, whose awful face was twisted into a pleading expression. The boy's mother was sobbing behind the boy, another goon holding her in place.

""I ain't no dealer, Charlie, I swear! The brat's lying!" Jim shouted, his mouth quivering.

"I just don't believe you, Jim." Charlie replied, sounding oddly polite for a criminal. "Besides, you have a reputation for ripping people off."

Jim shook his head, pointing at the boy. Something metal gleamed in his hands.

"It's him! He's making it all up! Kill him, it's his fault!"

No. Grainne exploded into action, going for Jim with her talons. She raked one across his cheek and he screamed, trying to hit her. The boy struggled against his captor, Charlie Cokehead let out a well-timed 'Bloody hell!' and a gun went off.

The shock of the sound made Grainne drop like a stone. She slammed onto a sofa, her ears ringing. Everything seemed unreal for a second. Then sound came rushing back.

"That's it!" Jim howled, a shot gun in his hands. He pointed it wildly, his eyes filled with madness. The wind battered the house suddenly, as if trying to invade.

Charlie and his men reacted, going for their weapons, but Jim was no longer pointing at them. The barrel of the gun was on the boy, who had freed himself from his captor. Jim's face was beyond evil, a demon unleashed.

"I should've killed you years ago! Just like that other lass and your no good father! I'm gonna enjoy watchin' you bleed to death-"

Jim began to pull the trigger and the world slowed. Grainne could see the whites of the boy's eyes, the last lingering drip of life before he perished. Just like her. All her fault.

She launched herself into the air desperately, thinking of The Mummy and stones and sad little boys who wanted to be free. She thought of her mother and gods and death and why living felt so good. She thought of the wind and sky.

Then the bullet ripped her apart, just as Jim dropped like a stone himself, a hole in his forehead. Pain blossomed in her feathered chest and she fell, the world fading like smoke. The boy shouted her name as she left, but the last thing she saw was Jim's dead eyes.

Her last thought was not of vengeance, but of the boy who was alive.

:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Grainne was floating on the ceiling, without a body. Something very big was hanging in the air beside her. She tried to look at it, but her attention was captured by the boy. He was crying her name still, his hands on her bloody feathers. The drug dealers were speaking to his mother, who was shuddering, and one of them began to drag Jim away. Grainne wondered if his soul was descending down to hell, but she no longer cared.

"Are you ready to go?" A cello note voice asked. She could hear Debussy's Reverie playing somewhere far away.

"As long as he's okay."

Her eyes strayed to the young boy, whose name was Drew. He was safe now. This had been her task all along.

"He's safe now." The voice replied. "He's going to live well."

She knew it was time to go.

She floated down beside him as tears dripped down his nose.

"I'm okay." She whispered and his eyes widened in shock. He heard her. It was one last gift.

Grainne looked at the glorious sunset one last time as she followed the music home, on the back of the wind.