A Song of Crows and Stars

Ballads of the darkest bird floated through the air that night. Rhymes and rhythms came squeaking out and traveled swiftly, softly.

Brightest stars and all those dimmer, shining silent but loud. All the creatures of the earth fell to knees in reverent respect.

What happened that night, only one knows well, but all felt the sorrow and grief. The crows with their voices sang and cried, and the stars shone down their tears.

A man, fresh but old, with his wife and children young found their way through the forest, the thicket, the streams, in search of a home for the owners.

Never has mankind seen the beauty before them, that gleamed in the florescent moonlight. A clearing in the wood stood a white, lovely deer, antlers aloft and new.

It stared back at them, for they smiled in delight at the forest's one beauty, one grace. Not the earth had seemed to have touched him, nor the mud nor the water or the rains. The rejects of dirt bowed in awe and in fright when the icy blue eyes did they stare.

The man, with his wife and two children, they all felt as if they would never sum up to the beauty possessed in this face.

Whatever happened from this moment onward, the man felt like no trouble would come. But little did he know, that after winter and snow, would come harsh, terrible happenings unimaginable to mankind.

Seconds later, a noise startled the beautiful deer. It scampered off into the woods, again not to be seen.

Two years and a half went by before the house was complete, not one of the family had sighted the buck.

The father drew close to his daughters and wife, which will happen when living secluded, and they lived in community, with no one to harm them.

In the nearest town, the Village of Highgarde, a rather large group of bandits invaded. They were armed with many weapons, which varied in size.

They caught wind there had been a family of the forest, and decided they had something hidden inside.

The great band of men wandered through the whole forest, but none found the house.

When they returned to their spoils, their thievery, and riches, they all agreed on one thing. Every corner they turned, every tree looked around, there stood a pearl-made deer.

They all said it guarded, but none knew what, and none could figure either. 'Till the youngest of the bandits spoke up and remarked, This family must be of importance.

So the bandits all tried, without finding the house. And many gave up on their search. But the diligent few, who knew better than most, they made way and succeeded triumphant.

The father had gone to the stream by the house to fetch clean water and wood. The wife was cooking for dinner, and the children played in the loft.

So the thieves broke in and beheaded the three in the house, thinking it would earn some gold. When really the family, though secluded from sight, was quite poor.

The thieves left, bringing only the heads, the heads with frozen faces. Faces of terror, pain, and surprise, left behind from their body, their home.

Minutes away, the father did not hear a scream, a crunch, or a splat. But when he came back, and he found what he found, his cry and his yell would be heard.

The stars above and the crows in the trees mourned with the man and cried. The crows saw the house go up in flames, as the man stood torch in hand. For he wanted to burn all memory.

After the smoke had gone and the crows had watched, the stars could see the burial. He dug three big holes where the house had been, and buried the bodies within.

The bandits, meanwhile, after finding no value, tossed the heads into a stream. The bandits felt bad, but they couldn't have known there was a man who had loved the family so.

Days later, the father was at the stream again, when the heads went bobbing by. Then again he screamed, for the feeling inside was not to bear.

The crows flew away and spread the sad news, to their neighbors and friends and family. And that night all the stars in their glorious loft, shone brightly to let the world know.

That a man had been broken, a man had been beaten, by the ways of the world and of loss. A loss which no other man could comprehend, and a loss known only to crows and to stars aloft.