Snake & Raven

A raven perched on an ivy covered headstone while a snake burrowed into the loam of an adjacent grave. 

Robert laid prone on a moss patch next to his grandfather’s monument of the Archangel Michael and cocked his revolver. He aimed at the raven.

“Why is there only one raven, don’t they hunt in pairs?” Chase peeked above the plinth.

“Keep your head down,” Robert whispered. “You’ll scare it off.” 

The raven cawed and ruffled its feathers. 

Robert applied pressure to the trigger. It clicked, the cylinder rotated a position. 

“What in the world?” He spun the empty cylinder. “Am I losing it? Where did the bullet go?” He scrambled to retrieve another cartridge from his pocket and reloaded quickly.

“Where did those people come from?” Chase asked. 

A man in a three-piece suit stood where the snake had previously burrowed, and a woman, cloaked in black mist, crouched on the headstone. 

As Chase repositioned for a better view, his foot slipped on the moist ground. The man spun their direction. Robert raised the gun. 

‘We need to go,’ the man said, walking towards the road.

‘Why are you avoiding my questions?’ The woman trailed him.

‘Catherine, can we speak on this another time?’

‘No Brent, we can’t--’

The clap of gunfire halted conversation. 

A breeze rushed past Robert, ripping the air from his lungs. He coughed violently to catch his breath. When he looked up, the people were gone. 

‘Did you see where they went?’ Robert whirled around, but Chase had disappeared too.

Robert pressed himself against the monument, ducking into the shadow of the archangels wings. He clutched the revolver against his chest and prayed.

***

Also published on my Substack

Image credit Jens Aber on Unsplash