Raven
©2003 Elizabeth L. Clark

She was dressed impeccably, from head to toe, not a hair out of place or a single wrinkle too bad it was for this.

She smoothed her hair and picked up her purse. Sunlight caught the ring on her finger and she had to lean against the wall for support.

The ride was long and eerily silent. Everyone was so kind, so free with their words of comfort.

She stood there silently. Her face a mask. It wasn't until the casket was being lowered that a keening wail of grief escaped her lips.

In all her centuries she had never loved as she had loved this one. She had known this day would come... but it did not lessen the pain.

As her beloved was lowered into the cold ground, her mortal life over, the immortal wept. She sank to her knees and pounded the dark rich soil, begging the powers that be to make this all a nightmare.

All left, unable to watch her grief any longer. All but one that is. She stood behind the grieving woman and waited. When the tear stained face turned and red-rimmed eyes met hers she pulled a sword from her coat.

The blade sang through the air and light danced along its deadly length. In seconds it was over. The men stopped working and carefully brought the coffin back up and opened it. They gently placed the still warm body in with her lover.

They were being paid well for this and for their silence. When the ground covered the lovers the other immortal slowly walked away. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she shifted and soared into the air.

Some say they heard the haunting cries of a raven that day. Some say it comes to the grave once a year and sits on the headstone, crying out in anguish.