By Alyson Faye
We were putting flowers on Grandma’s grave when we first noticed the crow. Just perched close by, watching us.
“Shoo. Go away.” Mum flapped her hands at it.
Billy chucked a stone. Mum told him off. “Show some respect.”
The crow hopped from tomb to tomb trailing us. I remembered Grandma telling me, “The crows know.”
At home I unearthed her cloak of feathers. An heirloom, the birds’ plumages interwoven. Fabulously glossy light catchers.
The crow waited.
Outside in our back garden I perched on the six-foot wall, wrapped the avian mantle around me, and took flight. It’s a family tradition.
One of my favourites with a little surprise at the end!
A nice, gentle fantasy. Loved it!
thank you for your comment- this is one of my favourite pieces of Flash fiction- I loved writing it.
a lovely tale of death, inheritance, legend.
just one thing. I wasn’t sure if the mom was saying “show some respect” to the crow, or to Billy. Or was the ambiguity intentional?
Thank you for your kind comments; yes it was deliberately ambiguous- that Billy should show respect at his Grandma’s graveside, but also that he should respect the bird since his mum ‘knows’ about their family’s special gift and that the crow is a messenger. I try to squeeze as much as possible from the 100 odd words- I like the idea also that you’ve suggested that the crow is showing his avian respects too!
A great story!
Thank you for your comment- it is much appreciated.
Very nice.