Counting Crows
by Cam Joyce
A single crow sat on my shoulder, claws digging into my flesh. I took my seat, a white plastic folding chair that was damp from the rain. I was towards the back, not unwelcome and yet not wanted, either.
The room was filled with quiet murmurs, everyone wanting to be respectful and yet none among them willing to save their gossip for another time. Purple bouquets shrouded the coffin from sight, a sea of black between me and the guest.
I sat for what must have been too long, as the crow began to squawk, and the mourners began to give me strange looks.
I stood, approached the coffin, and waited for the guest to notice me. She was standing next to someone I could only presume to be her mother. She kept trying to hug the older woman, phasing through her each time. The guest was wearing a sequined dress, shining under the sun but not reflecting on anyone.
When she turned around, I found that her makeup was done to match her outfit, unsmeared from uncried tears.
“Hi,” she said, voice barely audible.
“Hello.”
“I was waiting for someone like you to show up.”
“We like waiting for the funeral. So, you can have your goodbyes.” This was not always how it worked, but in cases like hers, we thought it was best to show them what they had left.
The crow left my shoulder, perching on hers.
“What does it matter? They can’t hear me.”
“We like to think it’s enough to see them.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Maybe I won’t go with you,” she said, eyes on her mother. “Maybe I’ll haunt them.”
“Haunting isn’t real. You have to come with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Are you afraid?” My guests usually were a bit fearful before they came with me, it wasn’t an unusual predicament.
“No. I’m not afraid of whatever you’re going to do with me.” She paused. “But then, I was never afraid of dying before I died.”
I smiled down at her - she couldn’t have been much older than fifteen, and if you made me guess, I would say the dress she wore was the one she’d intended to wear to her next school dance.
“It’s not scary. You just need to let time pass.”
“Let time pass. You know, my sister always used to say that.”
“Your sister?”
The guest pointed out a girl in the crowd, wearing the same dress she was in a different shade. “My sister. I wish I could hug her one last time, before I leave. She gives the best hugs.” And though dead people can’t cry, I wouldn’t have been surprised if that little girl managed it.
“I’m going to let you say goodbye. Come to me when you’re ready.” I sat back down, looked up at the blue sky, and waited.
The guest appeared by my side a long while later, once the place had cleared out. Neither of us spoke, but she took the chair next to me.
She leaned on my shoulder, and though her head phased through me, we both acted otherwise.
Two crows sat on my shoulder as I waited for my guest.
The hospital room was white and sterile, yet the sun shone through the small window and made the place feel warmer than it should have. On the bed was an old man, smiling up at the ceiling.
“You know, I outlived almost everyone I knew,” he told me, not looking down.
“I know, sir. That you lived such a long life is admirable.”
“Ah, no, it’s not. Nothing but luck, really.”
“How was it?” I asked.
He looked down at last, a beaming smile further wrinkling his old face. “I just had so much fun. I can’t believe how much fun it all was.”
I smiled back. “Are you ready to go now?”
“Definitely. I have a lot of people waiting for me back there. My eldest friend always used to tell me that if he died first, he’d bake me a big old cake once I got to heaven with him. I’m excited for that. Been a while since I had anyone bake me a cake.”
And when we left, I was happier than I’d been in a while.
Three crows sang around me. I was the only person in attendance, watching the bride and groom share a final kiss. They were awaiting their own inescapable deaths, and I suppose this was the best way they could think to go.
The man held his wife a bit closer before they went, and when it all ended, I could feel nothing in the air but love.
I did not speak to them as we left, and I hardly think they noticed me as we went. It was simply a new beginning for them. That was all any wedding was.
Four crows danced about, back in the sterile hospital. A new life had just begun, and another was over. Too soon, I thought, but no one ever asked for my opinions. I was not to say anything, only welcome them into the sweet nothing we represented.
The woman was waiting for me, letting my crows keep her warm. She stared, watching her baby go on without her.
“I was always scared this would happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I just wish things could’ve gone differently,” she sighed, smiling faintly. “Maybe next time, huh?”
“Maybe next time,” I echoed, though the better part of me knew there would not be a next time. This was it. This was the end of the road. Still, it would be cruel to say such things to the guests.
She took my hand when I offered it, and I kept her in front of me, so she didn’t look back. It was better that way.
Five crows fluttered through the sky, guiding me to the guest. We stopped underneath a great cliff, where the young man stood. He was too young to be dead. Too young. Always too young.
“What happened?” I asked. Not because I did not know, but because sometimes I found it was best for the guests to speak of it.
“It was a silly competition. My friend and I wanted to see who could climb the highest.” He pointed to another boy, who stood shell shocked beneath the cliff.
“He always wins our competitions. We play all the same sports, and I always get second place. He wins every time. I wanted to win, just once.”
The guest went quiet, contemplating. “Guess I won something. Died first. Got him.”
I looked down at him. “You don’t seem all that sad.”
“Aw, I am. It’s just weird. Didn’t see it coming. Like, one moment I could almost reach the sky, and the next… Here I am. Dead.”
“Here you are,” I agreed.
“Tell me the truth, will ya?”
I blinked, waiting for him to continue.
“There’s nothing waiting for me on the other side, is there?”
“No. There was only ever this.”
“Hm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Let’s get going, huh? You’ve got other places to be.”
Years later, when six crows took me to a guest, I asked the elderly man if he remembered his old friend. He told me that he did, and that not a day went by that he didn’t miss the guy.
Apparently, his friend was the best friend he ever could have asked for, and since he’d gone on, the guest had been terribly lonely.
Seven crows hovered above a pool of water. The guest stood inside of it, soaked through. She didn’t notice me as I came by, watching another woman by the shore.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in lieu of a greeting.
The guest looked over at me. “I’m sorry, too.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“All of it, I guess. I never told her I loved her,” the woman admitted. An eighth crow joined the crowd. “I wish I could tell her I love her.”
We stood there for a long while, watching the woman on the sand. She had not realized yet that the guest was gone, absorbed in her own troubles.
When we climbed to the shore, a ninth crow joined us. The guest took the other woman’s hand, squeezed it, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. The woman turned around.
We left.
Ten crows and I watched a middle-aged woman as the monitor flatlined. It was over, and yet there were ten of us. Something was amiss.
She only noticed me for a moment before her eyes widened. “There are ten of them,” she said.
“Yes,” I agreed. She smiled, letting her head fall back.
I left alone.
Eleven crows bounced around the room as we walked, the guest smiling as we went.
“You seem terribly happy for a dead man,” I joked. He grinned back at me.
“I am happy. Well, not happy, so to speak, but something of the sort.”
“Hopeful,” I supplied.
“Yes, just that. I’m hopeful.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been doing this for a long while, you know? And everything’s changed so much from the way it used to be. My daughters, too, they’re wonderful, they’re going to do something great. I have hope in what the world is becoming.”
“That’s a nice way to look at it.”
“Optimism is healthy.”
“Healthy, huh?”
“Yeah. I tried to have a healthy view on it all. I got to see sunsets, you know? I got to be alive. What else is there?”
We left through the backdoor, so he could see one more sunset. Who was I to take his hope?
Twelve crows were spread across the shoulders of the guests’ family members. She had gone peacefully, surrounded by her family. They were crying for her, and yet she had a serene smile on her face.
The house was small, barely big enough to fit her family.
“I know it’s not much,” she told me, noticing my confusion, “but it was enough. And you should see it during Christmas! Feels like the happiest place on Earth. It doesn’t seem like much, but it is.”
I smiled at her. “You all love each other very much.”
“Yes, we most certainly do. Family’s the most important thing at the end, isn’t it? And I hit the jackpot with mine.”
“Yes ma’am, you did.”
She smiled the whole way down.
All thirteen of my crows surrounded me once the day was over, and as we prepared for the next, I considered it.
I said goodbye to all of my guests, and as they went on, I was jealous of each of them for all they had experienced.
When the first crow woke me, I went along with it with a smile on my face.
The room was filled with quiet murmurs, everyone wanting to be respectful and yet none among them willing to save their gossip for another time. Purple bouquets shrouded the coffin from sight, a sea of black between me and the guest.
I sat for what must have been too long, as the crow began to squawk, and the mourners began to give me strange looks.
I stood, approached the coffin, and waited for the guest to notice me. She was standing next to someone I could only presume to be her mother. She kept trying to hug the older woman, phasing through her each time. The guest was wearing a sequined dress, shining under the sun but not reflecting on anyone.
When she turned around, I found that her makeup was done to match her outfit, unsmeared from uncried tears.
“Hi,” she said, voice barely audible.
“Hello.”
“I was waiting for someone like you to show up.”
“We like waiting for the funeral. So, you can have your goodbyes.” This was not always how it worked, but in cases like hers, we thought it was best to show them what they had left.
The crow left my shoulder, perching on hers.
“What does it matter? They can’t hear me.”
“We like to think it’s enough to see them.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Maybe I won’t go with you,” she said, eyes on her mother. “Maybe I’ll haunt them.”
“Haunting isn’t real. You have to come with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Are you afraid?” My guests usually were a bit fearful before they came with me, it wasn’t an unusual predicament.
“No. I’m not afraid of whatever you’re going to do with me.” She paused. “But then, I was never afraid of dying before I died.”
I smiled down at her - she couldn’t have been much older than fifteen, and if you made me guess, I would say the dress she wore was the one she’d intended to wear to her next school dance.
“It’s not scary. You just need to let time pass.”
“Let time pass. You know, my sister always used to say that.”
“Your sister?”
The guest pointed out a girl in the crowd, wearing the same dress she was in a different shade. “My sister. I wish I could hug her one last time, before I leave. She gives the best hugs.” And though dead people can’t cry, I wouldn’t have been surprised if that little girl managed it.
“I’m going to let you say goodbye. Come to me when you’re ready.” I sat back down, looked up at the blue sky, and waited.
The guest appeared by my side a long while later, once the place had cleared out. Neither of us spoke, but she took the chair next to me.
She leaned on my shoulder, and though her head phased through me, we both acted otherwise.
Two crows sat on my shoulder as I waited for my guest.
The hospital room was white and sterile, yet the sun shone through the small window and made the place feel warmer than it should have. On the bed was an old man, smiling up at the ceiling.
“You know, I outlived almost everyone I knew,” he told me, not looking down.
“I know, sir. That you lived such a long life is admirable.”
“Ah, no, it’s not. Nothing but luck, really.”
“How was it?” I asked.
He looked down at last, a beaming smile further wrinkling his old face. “I just had so much fun. I can’t believe how much fun it all was.”
I smiled back. “Are you ready to go now?”
“Definitely. I have a lot of people waiting for me back there. My eldest friend always used to tell me that if he died first, he’d bake me a big old cake once I got to heaven with him. I’m excited for that. Been a while since I had anyone bake me a cake.”
And when we left, I was happier than I’d been in a while.
Three crows sang around me. I was the only person in attendance, watching the bride and groom share a final kiss. They were awaiting their own inescapable deaths, and I suppose this was the best way they could think to go.
The man held his wife a bit closer before they went, and when it all ended, I could feel nothing in the air but love.
I did not speak to them as we left, and I hardly think they noticed me as we went. It was simply a new beginning for them. That was all any wedding was.
Four crows danced about, back in the sterile hospital. A new life had just begun, and another was over. Too soon, I thought, but no one ever asked for my opinions. I was not to say anything, only welcome them into the sweet nothing we represented.
The woman was waiting for me, letting my crows keep her warm. She stared, watching her baby go on without her.
“I was always scared this would happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I just wish things could’ve gone differently,” she sighed, smiling faintly. “Maybe next time, huh?”
“Maybe next time,” I echoed, though the better part of me knew there would not be a next time. This was it. This was the end of the road. Still, it would be cruel to say such things to the guests.
She took my hand when I offered it, and I kept her in front of me, so she didn’t look back. It was better that way.
Five crows fluttered through the sky, guiding me to the guest. We stopped underneath a great cliff, where the young man stood. He was too young to be dead. Too young. Always too young.
“What happened?” I asked. Not because I did not know, but because sometimes I found it was best for the guests to speak of it.
“It was a silly competition. My friend and I wanted to see who could climb the highest.” He pointed to another boy, who stood shell shocked beneath the cliff.
“He always wins our competitions. We play all the same sports, and I always get second place. He wins every time. I wanted to win, just once.”
The guest went quiet, contemplating. “Guess I won something. Died first. Got him.”
I looked down at him. “You don’t seem all that sad.”
“Aw, I am. It’s just weird. Didn’t see it coming. Like, one moment I could almost reach the sky, and the next… Here I am. Dead.”
“Here you are,” I agreed.
“Tell me the truth, will ya?”
I blinked, waiting for him to continue.
“There’s nothing waiting for me on the other side, is there?”
“No. There was only ever this.”
“Hm.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Let’s get going, huh? You’ve got other places to be.”
Years later, when six crows took me to a guest, I asked the elderly man if he remembered his old friend. He told me that he did, and that not a day went by that he didn’t miss the guy.
Apparently, his friend was the best friend he ever could have asked for, and since he’d gone on, the guest had been terribly lonely.
Seven crows hovered above a pool of water. The guest stood inside of it, soaked through. She didn’t notice me as I came by, watching another woman by the shore.
“I’m sorry,” I said, in lieu of a greeting.
The guest looked over at me. “I’m sorry, too.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“All of it, I guess. I never told her I loved her,” the woman admitted. An eighth crow joined the crowd. “I wish I could tell her I love her.”
We stood there for a long while, watching the woman on the sand. She had not realized yet that the guest was gone, absorbed in her own troubles.
When we climbed to the shore, a ninth crow joined us. The guest took the other woman’s hand, squeezed it, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. The woman turned around.
We left.
Ten crows and I watched a middle-aged woman as the monitor flatlined. It was over, and yet there were ten of us. Something was amiss.
She only noticed me for a moment before her eyes widened. “There are ten of them,” she said.
“Yes,” I agreed. She smiled, letting her head fall back.
I left alone.
Eleven crows bounced around the room as we walked, the guest smiling as we went.
“You seem terribly happy for a dead man,” I joked. He grinned back at me.
“I am happy. Well, not happy, so to speak, but something of the sort.”
“Hopeful,” I supplied.
“Yes, just that. I’m hopeful.”
“What for?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been doing this for a long while, you know? And everything’s changed so much from the way it used to be. My daughters, too, they’re wonderful, they’re going to do something great. I have hope in what the world is becoming.”
“That’s a nice way to look at it.”
“Optimism is healthy.”
“Healthy, huh?”
“Yeah. I tried to have a healthy view on it all. I got to see sunsets, you know? I got to be alive. What else is there?”
We left through the backdoor, so he could see one more sunset. Who was I to take his hope?
Twelve crows were spread across the shoulders of the guests’ family members. She had gone peacefully, surrounded by her family. They were crying for her, and yet she had a serene smile on her face.
The house was small, barely big enough to fit her family.
“I know it’s not much,” she told me, noticing my confusion, “but it was enough. And you should see it during Christmas! Feels like the happiest place on Earth. It doesn’t seem like much, but it is.”
I smiled at her. “You all love each other very much.”
“Yes, we most certainly do. Family’s the most important thing at the end, isn’t it? And I hit the jackpot with mine.”
“Yes ma’am, you did.”
She smiled the whole way down.
All thirteen of my crows surrounded me once the day was over, and as we prepared for the next, I considered it.
I said goodbye to all of my guests, and as they went on, I was jealous of each of them for all they had experienced.
When the first crow woke me, I went along with it with a smile on my face.
Cam Joyce is a fifteen-year-old writer from Chicago, Illinois. She hopes that she can connect with people through her work, especially other teenagers hoping to better understand the world around them. She loves writing as an outlet for creativity and a way to express her fears and passions.