Ichor
folder
1 through F › Crow, The
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
933
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Crow, The
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
933
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Crow, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Ichor
A bird in flight, wings dipped in ichor. The wind rendered around it in passage from there to here. A soul caught in the tail feathers trails in the breeze. A bird, an agent onto itself, deciding on the fates of many.
One soul, a victim.
Four killers to come.
But only on the birds judgment.
To decide the soul must be placed on The Scales against one of the bird’s own feathers. This will be far from the first he will give to The Deciding. The Scale is tarnished by the stain of revenge and could never shine as it is. The soul ripped by violence cannot stand the light for a time. The light was not there to save them. It is on the dark they know and understand. The ichor souls are much weighted by hate at times.
So The Scale.
If the spirit proves heavier then, like a feather, it can’t ascend. The ichor falls in streams off this one and the bird knows the outcome as the soul and feather are placed. The soul falls and must be sent back.
To set the wrong things right.
The crow, long ago, used to be a dove, bearing souls from one world to another. One day though a little girl was beaten, raped and left to die, alone. Then the ichor came. The soul was coated in it as the dove bore it but the soul proved to heavy to carry because of this ichor. It spread over the white feathers, making the snowy bird black, bigger, more deadly. A killer in its own right.
After a time it was decided that with this new ichor an allowance must be made. The soul was sent back to earth but because of the ichor became something else. It found its killers and laid them all to waster. With each body the ichor slowly flowed away until a dove could take it hence.
The black bird was charged with finding others that had died of violence, but the violence spread and other doves were touched by the ichor, creating the race of crows, judges of the wronged.
The crow flew back o earth and placed the black drenched soul in its body. The same ichor that coated the soul seeped through the veins, changing everything to fit one purpose. Vengeance.
In an alley, behind a dumpster, a girl of seven awoke in a pool of her own blood and screamed for her daddy.
One soul, a victim.
Four killers to come.
But only on the birds judgment.
To decide the soul must be placed on The Scales against one of the bird’s own feathers. This will be far from the first he will give to The Deciding. The Scale is tarnished by the stain of revenge and could never shine as it is. The soul ripped by violence cannot stand the light for a time. The light was not there to save them. It is on the dark they know and understand. The ichor souls are much weighted by hate at times.
So The Scale.
If the spirit proves heavier then, like a feather, it can’t ascend. The ichor falls in streams off this one and the bird knows the outcome as the soul and feather are placed. The soul falls and must be sent back.
To set the wrong things right.
The crow, long ago, used to be a dove, bearing souls from one world to another. One day though a little girl was beaten, raped and left to die, alone. Then the ichor came. The soul was coated in it as the dove bore it but the soul proved to heavy to carry because of this ichor. It spread over the white feathers, making the snowy bird black, bigger, more deadly. A killer in its own right.
After a time it was decided that with this new ichor an allowance must be made. The soul was sent back to earth but because of the ichor became something else. It found its killers and laid them all to waster. With each body the ichor slowly flowed away until a dove could take it hence.
The black bird was charged with finding others that had died of violence, but the violence spread and other doves were touched by the ichor, creating the race of crows, judges of the wronged.
The crow flew back o earth and placed the black drenched soul in its body. The same ichor that coated the soul seeped through the veins, changing everything to fit one purpose. Vengeance.
In an alley, behind a dumpster, a girl of seven awoke in a pool of her own blood and screamed for her daddy.