Murder- Edited

by summergrl13

Published June 29, 2015

12+ Violence

So I originally wrote this as a poem, and I decided to re-write it as prose and so I'm resubmitting it.  Enjoy :)

As she reaches the top of the steep hill, she can see the tree off in the distance. She is a wretched sight, mud and paint smeared along her face and arms, wearing nothing but a dirty grey sack; marks of the damned. As a shiver runs through her, she’s unsure whether it is the nippy autumn breeze or the sight of the ominous black tree that makes her blood run cold. Step by wooden step, she makes her way forward to the tree, to her fate. From a distance the tree seems to be covered in black leaves that rustle in the wind but as she gets closer she can hear the unmistakable shrieks of the crows.

The great grey oak is covered in thousands of them, bobbing their heads and hopping from branch to branch but never taking their beady little eyes off this young girl. A cold sweat begins to trickle down the back of her neck as she approaches them, and she feels as if they have already made their judgement. They have to know it was an accident, she thinks. Purely an accident, nothing more than a slip of my wrist and it was over. If my arrow had flown a little to the left it never would have hit him…

The shrewd eyes of the crows eerily remind her of the old but equally shrewd eyes of the village elders watching her as she pleaded her case before them. “I didn’t mean to!” she sobbed. “I-I was aiming for-”

“It doesn’t matter who you were aiming for,” a wizened old woman barked. “What matters is who was hit. You murdered your flesh and blood. Your own brother.” She spat on the girl’s feet with contempt. “This is not our decision to make. You fate is in the tree’s hands now girl.”

Rough hands stripped her out of her warm furs and soft deerskin boots and left her nearly naked and barefoot. More hands painted her as she pleaded and sobbed but all she got in return were pinches and slaps. She was chased out of the village by her own family and neighbors, to seek the tree or never return. Standing before it, she begins to doubt whether banishment is a wiser choice.

She walks under the canopy of crows to where the largest bird sits in the hollow maw of the tree. The other crows fall silent as she approaches him, so the only noises are the occasional rustling of inky feathers as they bob their heads at her like old men and the whispery padding of her feet in the swirling dust. The girl and the crow scrutinize each other in the silence. The crow was tall and proud, with his head feathers sticking up in a shadowy crown. She can feel his cruel eyes looking into her soul and she looks down at her feet with a shudder. The gods are judging me. I can only hope they judge me justly…

“Murder.” The verdict comes straight from the beak of the crow, in the soft deep voice of a human. Her head snaps up and her pupils dilate with fear as she realizes what that means.

“Please no,” she chokes out as she takes a step back.

“Murder! MURDER!” he shrieks, stretching his great wings so wide he casts a shadow over her.

The rest of the crows begin to stir and pick up the chant.

“MURDER! MURDER!”

Their wings beat against their breasts and their evil little eyes fix on the girl.

“MURDER! MURDER!”

The birds begin to take flight and encircle the girl, screaming her sin as the dust picks up with the wind and blinds her.

“No! It was an accident!” she sobs, ducking and stumbling as they whiz over her head.

Sharp beaks and feathers hit her as the birds chant and fly around her, seeming to scream the word with delight. A bird weaves between her knees and she stumbles backwards, knocking the wind out of her as she lands on her back. The crowned crow swoops down gracefully from the hollow of the tree and lands on her chest.

“Murder,” he murmurs and gives her forehead a hard peck.

She screams as slick black feathers sprout from the mark on her forehead, quickly covering her face and head. Her body twists and writhes as she shrinks and her skin turns into dark grey scales. As her lips harden and elongate into a beak her scream becomes a scratchy caw. At last a young crow emerges from within the grey sack the girl was wearing.

Her fellow crows hop around her happily, welcoming her. A murder for a murder.

Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
myjaspercat
Review
myjaspercat wrote a review Review · Jun 29, 2015

Hello summergrl13,
Myjaspercat here for a review...

So the first thing I want to say is that you have a really good idea here. I like how you decided to change a poem into a story, but I feel like you need a little help.

Your story seems a little too faced paced, there isn't much room for development of the plot. I get that you want to keep the original plot of the poem, but as a story you have to drag it out a little more. On top of that the description that you have kind of bogs down the plot. It's a little to much in some places and not enough in others.

On a good note though, I didn't really see any spelling/grammatical errors. The ending was also my favorite, I really liked the idea of the girl becoming a crow; if you were able to draw that out a little more, make it more dramatic then I think it would be amazing.

Anyways good luck and continue writing.---Myjaspercat

Thank you, honestly that's helpful :)

User avatar
EccentricRose
Review
EccentricRose wrote a review Review · Jun 29, 2015

Dear summergrl13,

EccentricRose is here to review! =)

" If my arrow had flown a little to the left it never would have hit him…"

I think this part was a different of Point of View than the rest. If it meant to be her thoughts, than italics might help.

This story was very intriguing and a very different plot. I like that!

One suggestion I have, and you don't have to heed my words by any means, I'm only mentioning it in case you'd like to use the idea. When the bird pecks her forehead, it would add further description if you wrote something like, "A searing pain pierced through her head and she felt like it was going to explode." This way, we not only see what happens, but feel what the character felt. Like I mentioned, you don't have to use it if you don't want to. =)

I loved the ending! How cool was that? Very cool! You have a vivid imagination and great potential. I'm glad you turned it into a story!

~Rose

Thank you! Darn, every time I submit the formatting gets messed up haha. That and a couple other parts were meant to be italicized, but they'll be fixed soon.

Hmm, that like is helpful. I'll expand on it, thank you :)

That's okay! I always mess up the formatting too. =)
No problem! Glad I could help.



"You, who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate with a violence impossible to me? Why you are as elemental as fire and wind and wild things..."
— Gone With the Wind