The Crow Man

“I am the Crow Man,” the tall man said with a top hat on his head and a cane in his hand. He wore a suit like Mr. Darcy might wear from Pride and Prejudice. Only Mr. Darcy's face wasn't severely mis-shapen. He continued, “Every day I walk in the corn fields and scare the crows. I work better than any other scare crow in the whole county. I didn't used to like the way I look; my face frightened even me. But I was born this way for a reason, and now I know what that reason is. Most people don't think being a human scare crow is a very noble possession, but I like it. I love walking through the yellow fields, feeling the grass tickle me as I walk past. I love the smell of earth and the wind on my face. And no one stares at me in horror. Even the crows, when frightened, look upon me with a kinder look than most people.”

The little girl who he was talking to looked up with interest, her eyes wide with admiration. She said, “Why do you dress funny?”

The Crow Man laughed, “I like history. I wear authentic nineteenth century clothes because it makes me feel like a real gentleman. When I wear these clothes I feel like the top of society, instead of the bottom. When I walk through the fields in my clothes, I imagine all the leaves of wheat grass blowing in the wind are people bowing to me.”

“That's like when I wear my special dress. I become like Cinderella at the ball and I get to marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after.”

The Crow Man put his hand on the girl's shoulder, “Exactly. I can live happily ever after in the fields with my clothes.”

A voice called from down the street, “Anna Leigh, time for dinner.”

The girl hopped down from where she had been sitting on a wooden fence, “I'm sorry Mr. Crow Man, I have to go to dinner now. I'll see you tomorrow.” Before running off, Anna Leigh hugged the crow man tightly across the stomach.

The Crow Man smiled as she went home. A little tear trickled out of the corner of his mutated eye. It was the first time he'd ever been hugged. It was the first time he'd ever felt loved.

As Anna Leigh got home, she turned one last time to see the Crow Man. He was walking off through the field just as the moon was rising, crows cawing into the sky around him. Anna Leigh felt peace and friendship as she watched him. She couldn't wait to talk to him again tomorrow.

Ozymandias (Based on the Sonnet by Percy Bysshe Shelley)

My sand cruiser settled down at a port in a tiny oasis. There was nothing there but a little pub and gas station for desert travelers. I hated the desert. I thought its mystifying beauty would be enough to continue with my quest to find the Lost Oasis. It was a sunken city that was once the cradle of civilization. Now it was hidden under the hot sun and brutally coarse sand. I found sand in every crack and crevice of my body, my clothes, and even my books. Why did I think being a desert treasure hunter was a good idea? I know why, Lara Croft. I played the video game from when I was eleven until I was fifteen. She was hot! And she was adventurous going to extreme places like Egypt and Siberia. I thought if I did that too I would meet a woman like her. The only problem is that I'm not all that extreme. I hate heat. I hate cold. I hate doing much of anything, to be honest. But I like looking for lost things in order to find hot women like Lara Croft. Too bad I only meet other stinky men.

I walked into the desert bar while my guide topped the tank of our desert hover craft. He didn't speak any English and conversing with him was always perfectly ridiculous. I would raise my voice and gesture a lot with my hands saying things such as, “Take...me...to...this...spot.” While saying this I would gesture first at the hover craft, then to myself, then to the map. I had gathered that his name was Akbar and he had four sons, but most of our traveling was spent in uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable mostly because of the heat and sand flying in our faces. I used to think aviator goggles were wicked, but now they leave imprints on my face that don't come off for hours.

The bar was more of a shack than anything back in London. It had a tiny fan, some dirty tables, and only a handful of patrons. I went up to the owner and gestured for water, but he gave me a bottle of whisky. I was so thirsty I didn't care. I took my whisky and a dirty shot glass to an empty table and poured myself a stiff drink. I had only sat there for a few minutes when a man in a full black dress came and sat opposite me. He was so covered in fabric, I could only make out two small, beady, black eyes. The stranger spoke in a strange accent I had never heard before, “Are you looking for the Lost Oasis?” He asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. How did you know?”

“Foreigners always stop here on their desperate search for the city. Most never make it back to this tavern, and those who do, are the worst for it. The desert is harsh and the way is hard, if you can even find the way. Most voyagers do not know even where to look.”

“Ahhh, but I have a map, you see.” I said proudly, puffing my chest.

The stranger shook is head, “No, no, no. Maps do not work out here. The desert does not carry a map. The sands are always shifting and turning. Borders are broken by the desert. The only way to find the Oasis is by the stars.”

Defeated, I asked hopefully, “Can you help me get there?”

The stranger nodded and leaned in close to me. I could smell the hookah on his clothes and wondered how he put the pipe under all the fabric. He began, “Follow the hunter until he meets with the dog.”

I knew he was speaking of Orion and Sirius.

The stranger continued, “In the desert there are two vast stones that stand without legs. Near them, in the heart of the desert stands the bust of a statue of the forgotten king. He stands staring out at the desert with a sneer and cold lifeless eyes. Under the head is the sculpter's words; he was the hand that mocked them and the heart that fed. This is where you will find what you seek.”

Without another word the stranger got up and left. I sat at the table mulling over his words while I drank my bitter whisky. I would travel as soon as the stars came out.

I begged Akbar to drive me, even though he didn't trust the desert at night. The sands were too unpredictable and out of nowhere a dust-devil could appear. Finally, he relented when he saw how clear the sky was. A cresent moon shone over the desert making it an eerie blue color. We traveled in the direction of Orion's arrow until we saw the dog star. The way was hard, but I was persistant. There I did indeed see two large blocks of stone that seemed to extend far below the line of sand. I walked out into the middle of the desert where the stranger had told me and saw a large face that had been eroded by the sand and wind. This face was one of the harshest faces I had ever seen. His downturned mouth reminded me of how my grandfather looked when I would disappoint him. It was a powerful, selfish look that made the observer wonder exactly how much power he held.

After examining the head for a long period of time, I noticed a plack under the head that had the words of the sculpter, “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings; Look on my works, ye Mighty, and dispair!”

I looked around the statue and the two stones, however, I could find nothing but sand. Sand that extended into the earth and out onto the horizon forever. This king was once the most powerful ruler the world had ever seen, but he was forgotten. His name had disappeared in the sand along with his city. Nothing remained of his legacy but a decayed sneer in a barren wasteland.

I realized then that there was nothing for me to find in the desert or in another extreme place like Siberia. I belonged in London, where the city was whole and not buried under a mountain of boundless loss. I ran back to Akbar and we sped across the desert, following the stars back to the oasis where we only stopped for gas and to see if the stranger was there. He was not.

I flew into Heathrow a few days later, still pouring sand out of my luggage. When my taxi arrived in the city, however, I saw only the same desolation I had seen in the desert. All around me were people and monuments that would be buried in history. Our powerful empire was no different than Ozymandias's. Buckingham palace would vanish, as would St. Paul's Cathedral, and Big Ben. All that would be left of our legacy would be a few coins with Elizabeth the Seconds face that say “God Save the Queen.”

God save us all.

Sabine and Jasper

Sabine lifted her curtain of black hair away from her face tying it in a loose bun on the top of her head. A few strands fell and framed her face is a seductive yet unapproachable way. Her skin tight tan leather outfit accented her lean body. At her hips was a long wooden stake and a crossbow. She was sitting perched on a balcony of an apartment over an alley. Jasper, her highly trained and deadly Great Pyrenees, sat quietly next to Sabine. He was her most important ally. Sabine quietly removed her stake from its holster and stood up. She could sense her prey coming.

Stumbling into the ally was a buff guy with his arm around a very petite girl. She couldn't have been more than seventeen, but she seemed to be trying to be older. She probably came from the bar around the corner with a fake ID. She was the perfect target. The man with his arm around her was heavily tattooed with his hair jelled and a biker jacket. He was also significantly older. Bingo.

The man pushed and pinned the girl against the opposite brick wall. He kissed her fiercely as he put a hand up her skirt. She wrapped her leg around his torso pulling him closer to her. They hungrily pushed and pulled at each other. It was rough, and passionate. The man pulled the woman up so she straddled his waist. She reached down to unzip his pants.

Sabine watched uncomfortably from her perch. In order to identify a vampire, more often than not, she had to witness public sex. Being a voyeur didn't quite appeal to her, or to Jasper who whined next to her. He wanted action, and she couldn't blame him, waiting for them to finish was quite boring. Vampires were known to fuck-and-suck, it was a necessary part of her job to wait, watch, and hunt.

After an quick tryst, the man put the girl back on her feet and they both adjusted their clothes. Sabine clicked her tongue at Jasper who began trotting down the fire escape. Sabine herself leapt right off the balcony onto a garbage dumpster and sled off the siding onto a low crouch facing the couple. She had on hand out in front of her and the other with the stake stretched out behind her like a cobra poised for the sting. The girl screamed a little, but the man grinned foolishly.

“Aren't you a pretty little thing,” he said to Sabine. “Did you like what you saw? You want seconds.”

Sabine smirked, “If your seconds are anything like your firsts, I'd be better off with my stake here.”

The man growled and attacked Sabine. She used his bulky figure against him and he ran headfirst into the wall. As he crumpled to the floor moaning, Sabine poised her stake to strike him in the heart. Something grabbed her arm from behind. Sabine turned to see the girl barring her sharp teeth. Of course, the vulnerable looking one was the vampire, oldest trick in the book. Sabine and the girl circled each other, Sabine twirling the stake in her hand threateningly. The girl sprung at Sabine like an animal, but Sabine was more than prepared. With just a flick of her wrist, the girl slammed her own heart into the stake. As Sabine pulled the stake out of the girl's heart, the vampire teeth vanished as did the girl in a puff of ash. The one good side of slaying vampires was no clean up.

Sabine dusted herself off and re-holstered her stake. Just as she was about to go back up the fire escape, she was knocked to the ground face-first. The man, who it turned out was also a vampire, had pinned her to the ground and was attempting to bite her neck. “I've always wanted to taste a slayer,” he uttered lowly. Sabine was powerless.

She whistled through her teeth and Jasper came bounding out of the dark and latched his teeth into the vampire's neck. He screamed as Jasper's fur was becoming increasingly stained with red blood. The bloodsucker tried to hurl the Pyrenees off of him, but Jasper was too big and strong. Within a few seconds, Jasper had bitten clean through the vampires neck. Having been decapitated, he burst into a similar puff of ash as his deceased girlfriend.

Jasper came up to Sabine with his tale wagging and blood dripping from his usually pristine white mouth.

“Oh Jasper, you're so gross. Now I have to give you a bath and I just gave you one last night. If it's not mud, it's blood. Alright, come on.”

Sabine and Jasper stalked off into the night, a dynamic vampire slaying duo.

Love and Labradors

At times I felt like I was suffocating. My heart would clench as though a snake was wrapping itself around and constricting it. The pain would be so unbearable I felt sure I was being ripped apart. He had taken my heart and stomped on it until it bled across the floor. He was my first love, the only one I've ever known. I'd like to say that it gets easier with time, but the truth is, the pain just becomes a replacement for the lost companionship.

Everyday I would bike to my favorite coffee shop just to sit and stare at the mountains while thinking about life. Sometimes I would write a poem or a story, other times I would just sip my beverage and wonder what is going to happen next. Occasionally I'd read a book. I did this before the break up, and now that we're through, being there only adds to the fact that he isn't texting me while I ponder.

Today, while sitting outside drinking my green tea smoothie, the sun blaring down on me, I felt something wet and rough on my leg. I looked down to see the biggest, brownest eyes I've ever seen. They were attached to a face with a long nose that had tickled me, a somewhat chubby body, four legs, and a tale that wagged so hard it looked like it was about to fall off.

“Hello puppy,” I said, smiling slightly.

The black lab tilted its head and proceeded to open its mouth and a fat pink tongue came lolling out.

I chuckled and scratched the dog behind its ears. “What's your name? Where's your master?”

The dog was tied to a chair at the table next to me, but the person sitting there seemed to not care at all about the dog. He was probably about sixty-five and seemed to be considering how best to reach his brain from his nose. The dog's collar said his name was Eric. Gulp! The same name as my recent ex. This adorable puppy was just another reminder of heartbreak.

The old man removed his finger from his nose and stared at me, his eyes somewhat misty and large behind thick glasses. He said, “My granddaughter thought it would be a good idea for me to have a dog, but the truth is, I don't know what to do. In the last seventy years I've only ever had cats as pets. Eric is three years old, he's really adorable, but he's a rescued dog. He has a lot of issues that I don't know how to handle. This may seem a bit forward, but would you mind helping me out? You're the first person Eric has met and hasn't tried to bite. I don't mean for you to have him because I love having company again, but just go for walks with him. It's hard for me to move since I had my knees done. I don't know if this is something you're interested in, but perhaps you could help me?”

I felt unsure. I had a lot of experience with dogs as it turns out. I was not a professional dog trainer or anything like that, but I have helped with training on friends dogs. I know what they need and how to take care of them. This poor dog probably had a very traumatic experience and needed real guidance. The man's granddaughter probably thought just going to the humane society would be perfect for her grandfather. The truth of the matter is, many of those dogs have concerns that most average dog owners do not understand. Some dogs may be really cute, but if they are smart enough and they do not get the proper training and exercise, they become neurotic and bored. These dogs will act out by doing things their owners do not like, such as eating the couch or peeing inside. Some owners blame the dog and abuse them. Others continue to ignore the dog's natural tenancies until they are out of control. Very few owners know exactly what their dog requires. Most of these neurotic dogs end up back at the humane society after being abandoned. The breeds that best represent this are shepherding dogs, huskies, dalmatians, and yes, labradors.

This old man really did need help. I looked at the dog hoping he could tell me what to do. He licked my hand. Perhaps this dog would be a constant reminder of my heartbreak, but I couldn't abandon a dog in need of guidance. “I would be happy to help,” I told the man.

He beamed at me, “Thank you so much young lady. My name is Thomas. Eric and I come here everyday at 11 am. Maybe you could take him during the day and pick him up and drop him off here. I can be back here at 8 pm, if that works. I can pay you too, if you'd like.”

I nodded. I was on summer vacation from college and due to a two-week vacation, I couldn't get a summer job. Helping this man and his dog would be perfect.

“Simply wonderful!” Thomas exclaimed. “How much would you like to be paid?”

“I am not particular. Just pay me whatever you like. The real payment will be training Eric and spending time with him. My name is Cheryl, here's my number if you want to contact me.” I quickly scribbled down my cell phone number and handed it to him. We agreed to meet back there tomorrow for Eric and I's first date.

Our first date. Human Eric and I never had a first date. I kissed him at a party and after that we just kept hooking up until he was my boyfriend. Maybe dog Eric would have more manners.

The next day, I picked up Eric and walked with him to a park. I didn't realize how much work he would be until he chased after a squirrel dragging me behind, tried to bite a little girl, wouldn't heel, sit, or stay. Whoever had owned him before Thomas never bothered to teach him even the basics. Luckily, I was prepared. I brought a little baggy of treats. The first thing I needed to teach him, was that I was the Alpha. Dogs are descended from wolves making them pack animals. Many owners treat their dogs like other people and then act shocked when their dog doesn't listen to them. By showing Eric that I was leader, he would have an easier time following what I was telling him. To do this, I showed him the dog treats, which of course he wanted to rip out of my hands, but I refused until he stopped. When he sat down, stopped barking, and looked up expectantly, I gave him his reward and said, “Good boy Eric,” while rubbing his face and chest. We practiced this a few more times. When he would do something wrong I would sit him down and say “No” forcefully and show him what he was doing that was wrong.

Another mistake many dog owners make is saying the dog's name when they misbehave. By saying their name, the dog will think they have done something good and will continue to do whatever it was that was wrong. Instead, owners should use a signal like a finger or hand that means bad and show them what they did. This teaches them that they were wrong without being beaten. Signals are very important with teaching dogs. Dogs don't understand English; our talking to them is the same as them barking to us. They do understand commands, but these commands have to be followed generally by a signal. If you say “Heel” and pat your leg, it's the pat they understand best. If you say “Lay down” and put your hand on the floor, it's the same thing. Which is exactly what I was doing with Eric. I taught him the basics but he needed to practice them everyday or else he would just forget. Over time, Eric would do what I asked without needing a treat.

Eric loved learning these commands. He was using his very intelligent brain for the first real time, and I found that after only a few weeks, he had moved past the very basics. We were onto tricks like speak, play dead, and shake. Every now and then, though, I would notice him regress and misbehave. It was only then that I would be reminded once again of human Eric. He was always rather kind to me and would listen to me, same as dog Eric, but occasionally he would ignore me for long periods of time and even go after other girls. Dog Eric would do this too. He would ignore my commands and chase after something like another animal, or even another person. It hurt that two Erics in my life could be so hot and cold. But dog Eric seemed to love me more than human Eric ever had, and while it makes me sad to think about, dog Eric is much more loyal.

Having the labrador in my life made me begin to forget about my broken heart. We would walk and play. I taught him to play catch and to swim. Giving him back to Thomas at the end of the day was becoming increasingly difficult. My heartbreak from human Eric was being trumped with my heartbreak of dog Eric not being mine. I wished I could tell Thomas this, but I knew that he needed the companionship more than I did.

I realized in just a week I would be heading off to school for my senior year in college only a month after Eric had touched my leg with his nose. I would no longer have him in my life. Thomas would be without his dog trainer and without me, Eric might regress. I didn't know what to do. I wished I could take Eric with me, but how could I do that to Thomas? Eric had healed my broken heart. When I think of Eric now, it isn't a lame ex-boyfriend who just wasn't good enough for me, it is a smart and energetic black labrador who loves to run while I bike and will sit by my side with a cocked head while I talk about my life.

“I'm sorry to tell you this Thomas, but I'm leaving for California in a few days to go back to school,” I told him after dropping Eric off one day.

Thomas's eyes looked even wider than they normally did. He took his wallet out of his back pocket and removed five hundred dollars. “I'll miss you Cheryl,” was all he said.

I looked at the money, “I can't take your money. Eric was my friend. Being with him was the best thing that could have happened right now.”

Thomas shook his head, “Please take it. It's the least I can do. You turned my neurotic puppy into a best friend. When I first got him, I didn't know what to do with him. But now, I wake up in the morning and he brings me my slippers and my paper. When I get confused sometimes, he puts his head in my lap like he knows and I come back to reality. I know he will miss you You have given me a great gift by helping Eric become the friend I needed. I hope when you return for vacations, you come check up on us.”

I nodded, tears holding back my voice. I took the money from Thomas's outstretched hand, kissed Eric and laughed when he licked my entire face, and walked away. I was no longer selfish about my desire for Eric in my life. I had done a great thing by helping Thomas and I knew Eric would be happy. In the fall I would volunteer for animal rescue and teach dog training.

The whole time I was training Eric, I thought I was helping him, but the truth is, he was helping me. He helped me learn to love again, he helped me get over my pain, he helped me learn what it is I really want to do with my life. I would go to school and thrive by holding the lessons Eric taught me close to my heart.

Thank you, Eric.