The Raven

The raven looked on in silence from his dead tree, unsure what to make of the dark spectacle below him. The rain poured endlessly off the church's roof, splashing and dancing in the mud-bathed graveyard outside it. The clouds were hanging low that night, hugging a certain young woman in their cold embrace. She knelt in front of a newly-placed headstone, freshly engraved with her lover's name. It had not been in place long enough for time to have its effect on the dark, rugged beauty of the simple masonry. 'Sam Devonshire: Beloved friend, brother, uncle and son. R. I. P.'

A single cold tear trickled down the woman's face, but the sad raven could not tell it apart from the rain. Unashamed of mud, and unafraid of wet, the woman could do nothing but kneel. And every time she thought of her now dead lover, a fresh portion of her heart died within her breast. The raven cast his eye on the pistol that lay in the womans hand, and he gave a squawk.

The woman picked it up, and looked at it almost longingly. She raised it up, and held it against the side of her head. She pulled back the hammer, and rested her fingers against the trigger.

There was a loud 'bang' that shattered the steady monotony of the rain. There was a scream, a squawk, a flash of blackness, and a puff of smoke. The sextan gave a start, surprised by the unexpected gunshot. He looked out of a small window in his office, and saw the young woman fall to the ground, and the gun flew out of her lifeless hand.

He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, and ran outside, calling the preacher as he did so. He splashed through the mud and the rain to where the woman lay, and he knelt at her side. He felt her pulse, and saw that it was going strongly. The woman opened her eyes, and looked into his. The sexton noticed a profuse lack of blood, and he closed his eyes in relief.

***

The woman did not know why she had survived her own suicide, and the sexton and the preacher put it down to God's grace. But five years later, the woman and her new husband visited the church to see the place where God had decided to spare her life, and save her from herself in her darkest hour.

As they walked under the raven's dead tree, they heard a squawk, and looked up. The same raven flew down from his perch, and winged around the couple a few times. He finally came to rest on the woman's shoulder, and almost lovingly caressed her neck with his beak.

In that moment, she knew that the Lord had sent the raven. The raven had knocked the pistol from her hand at just the right moment.