The Black Crow of Purgatory (Part 2 of 3)

Draft for a 3 part short story

Part one at https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/black-crow-purgatory-part-1-3

The Black Crow of Purgatory Part 2

The crow peered at John and, with a gentle flapping of its wings, flew into the slate-grey sky. It would journey from this realm to the earth-bound plain taking with it a man’s soul ensconced in its essence.

John opened his eyes and saw himself….floating above a prostrate body. Limbs had been separated from torso, sinews torn from bones due to the sheer force of being hit by a train. A body lay spurned and dead, a look of shock written onto the victim’s face. He could see distraught onlookers, a woman burying her head in a man’s chest, a child screaming. He could hear the sounds of the station, a cacophony of voices murmuring. He knew it was him. He stared at the sight lamenting his demise. He had so much to do and, yet, now nothing. He thought about this and wondered how Janey would react when she found out. They were lovers. Star-crossed. Meant to be. Forever.

He checked his arms and legs; all present and correct. Wherever he was now, he was whole again. If this was a dream it was the weirdest one ever. He knew it wasn’t. As surreal as everything was, there was also a sense of self-awareness; of knowing he had passed on to somewhere else. Somewhere abnormal where things were strange. The accident scene swirled out of focus. Before he knew what was happening, John was now looking down from a bedroom ceiling. He recognised the room. It was in darkness but as he strained his eyes he could make out light blue pillows, a king-sized duvet, bedside tables and a walnut dresser with a vanity mirror. It all belonged to his apartment building in Queens district. Three floors up, train links to Central Manhattan were good whilst rental rates were reasonable. He had a comprehensive, wide-angled view of everything from up here. He seemed to be hovering, his back to the roof. His eyes strayed and he noticed a candy wrapper on the navy blue shag pile next to his side of the bed. The blinds on the window were closed with shadows dancing on walls thrown up by headlights from passing cars.

He heard the click of a latch and someone entering through the front door. The living area was next to the bedroom with muffled conversation emanating from it. Whilst initially the sounds of voices sounded far away, John found himself able to tune in and the exchange becoming audible. He felt light-headed, as though cotton wool had been tightly packed inside his head. He wanted to move but couldn’t. Whilst scenarios were changing like something from “A Christmas Carol” he didn’t appear to have the gift of free will. He was to endure everything that was put in front of him like a latter-day Ebenezer Scrooge. He glanced at the radio alarm clock on a bedside table. The LED display read 22:03. The ghost of Christmas Past was due soon.

****

“So how did it go?" asked a man. He was twenty-six years old and had blonde hair which was cropped short, generous lips and a piercing look that came with his driven demeanour. A snap-back cap, white tee and blue jeans completed his student look. Some said he could be mistaken for a young Paul Newman. He spoke in a staccato manner, words rifling out.

“How do you think it went? I was well and truly grilled whilst undergoing serious grief. I've been through Hell today.” Janey was, in many eyes, a beauty. An aquiline nose and pinched cheeks underpinned her hazel eyes and slender figure. Her mascara had run and was smeared where she had been crying. She had cried all day long. Grief could be brutal. Regardless of circumstance and occasion, she was always immaculately turned out. This was a woman who wanted the best things in life. Janey was old money, born into the Williams family from Pennsylvania. She had riches coming to her through various inheritances in time. Meanwhile, she wanted to live a life of opulence; to be cared for and waited on until the cash came home when one of her parents had taken their last breath and left her spoken for through thoughtful estate planning.

“I get it, you know. It’s a lot to deal with. The sudden loss of your intended…..under tragic circumstances. The inquest that follows. The questions. We expected this remember.”

The young woman looked at the man with consolation in her eyes. Emotion overwhelmed her like a tidal wave crashing on a beach. She crumbled into his arms, holding and hugging. There had been so many questions for most of the day. “Did your partner have any enemies?” “When did you see him last?” “Did you have an argument before he left?” They clutched each other for seconds, the man the first to release and wander over to a sideboard with a crystal decanter and tumblers sitting redundant. He poured himself a whisky and breathed in. They both decided to sit on the striped settee in the middle of the room.

“So what happens now?" The woman asked. Her voice was silken with a low, casual aspect that made her even more endearing. Her eyes widened as she sat up straight awaiting an answer.

“We do what we said we would do. John is dead, nobody knows about us, we bury your partner and set the wheels in motion to resolve the will. This is what you wanted.”

The woman looks chastened with guilt pumping through her. This is what they had discussed but now the day had arrived she felt conflicted, emotions running riot inside. 

“You are so clinical. It’s chilling” She scolded.

At this the man winced. He considered the accusation and reflected on the fact that they had both dreamt up this scheme up many months ago. They had met at their local gym. Innocuous enough at first, snatched conversations whilst waiting to use machines had turned into a coffee date and, eventually, a fully-fledged tryst. They had been careful to only meet in places where they were unlikely to bump into anyone they knew. Janey couldn’t bring herself to leave John. He was going places and she wanted to go with him. However, that need waned and sinister alternatives had been born out of those illicit dates. It was like something from a black and white Hitchcock movie.

“I know. I did it for us, though. We can be together and live the kind of life you deserve. Trust me.”

They fell into each other’s arms again. The man thought about his job tending bar at “Sweet Afton”. As much as he liked serving the good and the great, he longed for an easier life where he had options; options that meant he didn’t have to pour beer into glasses and smile at jokes he didn’t find funny.

****

John had heard the entire conversation even if it sounded like it was coming from under water. So it looked like he had been pushed after all. He wondered what the man in the next room looked like. As he gathered his thoughts, the bedroom door was pushed open and his fiancé and the interloper came through. He looked down and drunk in the sight of Janey. She looked wonderful yet sad. A pencil, black skirt and a designer, white t-shirt with the word “Madonna” written in sequins across the chest in bright colours made Janey look a million dollars. He wasn’t so enamoured with them toppling onto the bed together, entwined and with amorous intentions. The voyeur closed his eyes, unable to watch what was unfolding below him. He heard the groans and fumbling and wished he was far away from this place. This felt like a punishment. He didn’t understand why they hadn’t seen him. He was there, hovering, looking down. John opened his eyes and looked at the mirror on the sideboard. He glimpsed flesh and closed his eyes just as quickly, not wanting to take in what was going on. After a while, there was no longer any noise, just the sounds of sleep. John’s consciousness faded away, once more, into a dreamless void.

****

Morning came. This day was a bright one with the sun holding sway in a largely, cloudless sky. Rays pierced the bedroom blinds. Janey’s eyes fluttered open, her partner lying beside her. She edged across her side of the bed to check the time on the radio alarm – 08:33. No work commitments on a Saturday but there were still plenty of things to do. She pulled the duvet back as she slid the rest of her body across the bed. It was then that Janey looked up and screamed. It was a piercing, shrill cry of fear as she pushed her hand into her partner’s back with a loud cry of “GARY! THERE’S SOMETHING ON THE CEILING!” At the same time, John came out of his dreamless state and dropped to the floor like a huge spider abseiling down its thread and landing on a bedroom rug. 

Part three at https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/black-crow-purgatory-part-3-3

Image free to use via WikiCommons at https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:NYC_Jackson_Heights_3.jpg