Beware the Crow with the White Eyes

Everyone knows the story of how the raven with the white eyes steals your voice. Or at least they should. It is a rather sad tale, honestly. It begins with a couple. A man and a woman. Madly in love.

And one more thing, do not trust the crow with white eyes. That was the last thing my love told me.

"Oh, Josephine! Don't forget to bring your books." Josephine had been a small, frail child since birth. But what she lacks in size, she makes up perfectly in intelligence. Her spatial IQ was off the charts, especially.

She ran downstairs lightly and landing on the bottom step with a light 'tap' of her tiny feet. Books in hand, hair pinned up, dress fluttering to a stop at her ankles. She was a vision. Dark hair, fair skin, and dark blue eyes. Beautiful as ever, even for her small frame.

Her mother called out to her again, saying, "Josephine, are you down yet? I have a list for you to get at the grocer's store before you head home this evening."

She laughed. "Yes, I am downstairs now."

Her mother met her at the front door to see her off to school. She walks to school every day with the love of her life. Through the woods and right there at the school soon after they cleared the woods.

Today was going to be a bit different. She could feel it in her bones. She could not quite tell if it was going to be a good feeling or a bad feeling. But it was a heavy feeling.

"Today, I think." She whispered it, but her mother caught the last bits of the whisper.

"What was that my sweet yet still quite a young child?" She always said that as if she were going to be her child forever. She was officially going to be seventeen in less than two days.

"Nothing, mother. Just talking to myself." She nodded with absolution to her mother and added, " I'll see you after I get home. I love you." Waving, she steps out of the door into the warm spring breeze of the early morning and is greeted by her love.

He met her as she walked down the steps, swept her up into his arms, and began carrying her. She smiled at this. He never stopped doing so ever since they met and dated. He never pushed her too hard, as it made her incredibly tired and sluggish. He always did things with her in a very loving manner. He said she had the most fragile body and a most fragile heart. That he never wanted to see it break or be the cause of it breaking.

But she had a feeling. She almost knew that today was going to be the day that would happen. It would not be his fault either. She knew. He loved her too much for something like that to be his fault now. It would be someone else at fault there. Or maybe something else would be at fault. It felt truer at something. She hugged him close and savored his woodsy-lemony scent. She knew she would ache for it.

"Can I have one of your shirts?" She blushed slightly as she asked. He looked at her questioningly. "I suppose so. May I ask why?"

She kept the thought to herself. 'I want to keep it so I can remember you.'

What she said was this, "I love the way you smell. I want to have your smell with me all the time to comfort me." It was, in a sense, half true.

He continued to carry her, his breathing even and unburdened as she was exceptionally light as a medium-sized bird. His gait was effortless as he walked the unpaved path through the woods.

Then she heard it, a lone caw in a tree nearby. That is when the feeling welled up inside her, and she tapped her loves shoulder and motioned for him to let her walk. And as if on cue, her love spoke, the bird flew in and at his throat, and she gulped hard her scream. It was done. Her love was dead, blood pooling around his shoulders as he lay there. She dropped beside him, silently sobbing and wishing for her love to be okay, but she knew. She knew deep, deep down, he would not live to see another day.

The bird, now bloodied in a slick black, flew on top of her love and landed claws digging into his still resilient skin. Then looked at Josephine as if it were about to speak. She stared at the reasonably large bird whom she wished death upon in quizzical fashion. Then it spoke. It said to her in his voice, the voice that was her loves but is now the bird’s own.

"What's got your tongue, child?" It spoke in sickly sweetness to her. As if it were her love come back to her. As if it knew anything of her.

She stood and thought to begin the seemingly long trek back to her home and remembered his shirt. His shirt with his smell and the bird’s claws stuck in it held him down as if he were to try and flee. She swiped to try to make the bird fly away, and it made no move to do so. Instead, it ducked and stared at her almost lovingly. It spoke again, but not before it changed into her love, its eyes still white and his body now naked. "My love, why do you act this way towards me? Why do you not speak to me as you did before?"

Tears began to well up in Josephine's eyes. He made a move to wipe them away but to no avail. She swiped at his hand, which had been a wing before. And angrily went around him to try and gather her true love’s shirt. But when she was finally in the spot, he had simply vanished. Gone was he that was living, then died and bleeding on the ground, her true love.

She whipped around and found him standing there. She blinked once extremely hard and looked at him, fully clothed, and saw that he was looking at her quite worriedly.

Then she spoke, which was a significant mistake. She said and walked towards him and began to embrace him as if she had missed him terribly because she had lost him.

"My love," she said, "what happened?" And at that, a second bird flew down and ripped her throat out quick as threading a needle, though messier than spaghetti. Though it had not been her death, she saw, it was the birds. She was in a bird’s body, with her voice. And the bird had died in her body.

And for that, she cried.

So, as the saying goes, please do not trust the bird with white eyes because it will surely tear out your throat.