CONTRIBUTION: A Bench with Poe

One crow, two crow, three black crows

Four crow, five crow, six black crows

Seven crow, eight crow, nine black crows

Ten crow, ten crow, ten whole crows

“Kids make songs about anything, don’t they?”

I was snapped away from the children laughing while skipping rope on the cool evening, where orange shown through the setting sun and through the dying leaves. I looked towards the voice and on the opposite end of the bench I sat on was an old man. He wore a thin, black, sweater, no gloves, no ear muffs, in fact still wore sandals. His cheeks were gaunt and his eyes beady back in their sunken crevice that I suppose were sockets enough.

“They do, but it’s cute to hear and see that even the black birds around them can be so exciting.” I offered an awkward chuckle as I gave a nod towards the children. I felt my toes going numb despite the fact I wore three layers of sock beneath my sturdiest boots. Despite my hood covering my cheeks, nose, and ears, despite the heavy coat and mittens stuffed with hand warmers. “Are you not cold, sir?”

“The cold no longer bothers me.” He mused as he looked at the children, a skew smile on his thin, pale lips, if you could call the thin, protruding lines lips. “How is Dorothea?”

“…You know my grandmother?”

“Yes, yes. She feeds the crows all the time here. I thought that was why you came? You were filling in for her.”

“I didn’t know she did that. She passed away three nights ago. I guess the cigarettes got to her.”

“No, no. She had good lungs. Something else.”

“Something else?” I looked to face the old man again instead of the kids skipping rope and he was gone. A crow sat in his place, beady eyes looking at me. I stood and spun around, how did he get past and away so fast? I went to look back at the kids, but on cue the light posts came on and the kids scurried home for dinner on the cold evening.

I shook my head and pulled my coat closer to myself, this must be my cue to leave too; the only thing left in this park was myself and some crows the kids were no longer singing about. I exited and headed back to my late grandmother’s. I was the nearest relative and had the honor of getting the funeral ready, and packing the house and getting ready to sell it. Ten lamp posts then a left and her house would be the third on the left, I had to remind myself. I counted each post I passed and once I hit ten I turned left and thick fog greeted me.

“Fantastic.” I muttered, pulling out my phone, wasn’t 6:39 a little too early in the evening for such heaviness? I turned on the flashlight and headed into the fog, walking as close to the left of the sidewalk to ensure I could at least count to three mailboxes. One, two…three? I couldn’t have passed it, but my hand, sides, self never hit it. I turned right back around to find the last two mailboxes I had touched to no longer be able to touch those either.

My heart beat was getting louder it felt, louder and louder that surely someone around could hear and offer me some help…a better light? I paused and took a deep breath, the street in which my grandmother’s house was on did not have enough lamp posts, but if I keep walking straight I should hit the main road again and start over. I took another breath and continued back the way I came. Or so it seemed. I kept walking and as I checked the time saw the minutes ticking away, but no street coming into sight.

“What on earth is happening?” I breathed out, the clock in my hand now reading dimly at 8:08, battery saving mode on, and 11 percent to my name. I turned again to look back, I could feel the sidewalk beneath my feet and that’s when I noticed a faint light behind me. “Maybe someone there could help me.” I whispered, watching as the new alert on my screen bore a reminder to charge my phone as it how hit red and 10 percent. I went to the light where a deep red door greeted me. “Not grandma’s that’s for sure.” I muttered as I recalled her white painted and peeling door that greeted me that morning. I knocked on the door and waited. Knocked again and waited. No answer and seeing no doorbell knocked for a third time and this time the door handle jangled loosely and screeched open.

“Oh! Sir? You left so quickly earlier! I seemed to have gotten lost in the fog, would it be alright to wait here until the fog cleared? Maybe charge my phone?”

“Stay? Sure, I’m afraid the electricity is out here though.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Thank you so much.” I gave a weak smile as I stepped past him through the door he had barely allowed to open anymore.

“Feel free to take your shoes off and hang your coat there.” He told me, nodding at a nearby rack and closing the door behind us.

“Thank you.” I said quietly as he took a lantern and walked into the house with it. I took the heavy coat off, but with no electricity the house was as frigid inside as it was outside. I decided to leave the two thin jacket and three layers of socks on as I treaded in towards the light the man had lit on an old looking lamp.

“Pardon the dust, I don’t get many visitors. It’s been many years since company has come over.”

“Weren’t you friends with my grandmother? Surely she would have come?” I asked as I glanced around.

The wallpaper plastered on was peeling away revealing crude paint underneath, the paintings, not pictures, of about eight people were even more dated and seemed to peer at me, as if questioning why I was sitting on a musty old chair. The smell inside however, despite the dust and awfully outdated décor, did not match the environment. I let out a cough trying to hide my nose scrunching from the scent. It smelled…rotten…but fresh too despite the dusty air.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? I don’t have much but surely something small to nibble and pass the time?”

“Oh, no. I’m not wanting to bother you-“

“Nonsense, just wait a moment. I’ll bring the lantern with me to the kitchen if you don’t mind.” Just like that he upped and walked away, leaving me on the musty seat, in the dark, in that awful stench. At least now I didn’t need to hide my nose scrunching.

A few moments passed, than more, and more, more, and many more.

“Are you alright, sir? Would you like some help?” I called into the pitch black. No response, no light, and a battery at 6 percent. Should I use the flashlight? He’ll be back, he said so. Still, the smell and the feeling of something near me was becoming claustrophobic. It’s the dark, I told myself. It’s the smell and dust that is irritating me. Then I felt it, a breath, someone was breathing right in front of me! I quickly flashed my light and a frail woman with no eyes smiled at me, I screamed and suddenly the man appeared, the woman vanished, and my phone dropped to 4 percent.

“Are you alright, dear? Sorry, I thought I had something already made up, but I ended up quickly scrapping together some sweets instead. Here.” He set a plate with a variety of cookies on it and a mug with a steaming liquid of red in front of me.

“Sorry, I don’t do well in the dark.” I laughed, surely having seen things, “What is the drink.” I sniffed the warm liquid, it was both pungent and a strong smell, but not exactly delectable in scent.

“Oh, that? A little family recipe.” He mused, “Better to try first.” He nodded.

I took a shaky breath and sipped it in three rapid successions to avoid burning the tongue, putrid.

Absolutely and indescribably bad. It being hot and a bright color had led me to think it a tea, or even a homemade ale, thin and maybe musty like the place. It was thick, and sour, and had an awful aftertaste.

“Different, right? It’s said that my ancestors made it to help live longer lives.”

“Really? Might I ask how old you are then?” I laughed, not expecting a reply, more of a oh you know kind of response, but I looked up and his beady eyes were peering at me menacingly. I hadn’t noticed at the park, but the eyes so set in were…almost nonexistent.

“Why would you like to know?”
“Oh? Well…you said your family made it with the intent it helps you…live…more.” “…105. Just a baby.” He smiled, the man looked old and gaunt, but not over 70. “105?”
“Yes, my sister is older…would you like to know how old she is? Meet her? Maybe…”

He paused, smiling at something past me, “You already have.”
“I only arrived this morning, so I doubt it.” I felt my heartbeat becoming quiet, but

moving along faster. I glanced at the window and saw fog still covering it. How long had I even been here? The darkness didn’t help earlier, and the fog was not giving me ideas either. I had been avoiding checking the time on my phone in fear I would lose battery. “Should I know how old she is? Should I have met her sometime while I was out and about today?”

A vibration and look down at my phone, 1 percent. The man was smiling bigger now, his cheeks becoming hollow, and his eyes more sunken.

“Those kids ran off quickly, didn’t they…nine of them…no?”

“I don’t remember how many.” I smiled, or tried too, not surprised if it was more of a grimace. “Does the number matter? They were singing something about there being crows as well. That I remember.” I let out a laugh, at this point more of a breath.

“Nine. You were ten.”

“Ten, hm? Is that number important? Lucky? My grandmother’s house from the park was ten light posts away from the turn and then I got lost, her address is 1010 as well.”

“Lucky?” He laughed, “No, no. She made that mistake too. Asking about the number, why all of sudden I invited her over for a drink…she was the tenth visitor that day. Feeding the crows, minding the children since their parents don’t…she also asked about my sister…why don’t you?”

“Well…” I breathed out, “I don’t like living by other’s mistakes.” I chuckled, feeling as if someone was breathing down my neck now. “I get the sense that upsets you. We’re you close?”

“Ask.”
“Ask what?” I asked the man, feeling my phone vibrate for the last time before dying. “What did you drink? How old is my older sister?”
“What did I drink?” I breathed out after a moment of silence.
He smiled wide, “Our blood. It makes it easier to eat when you have some of us in you.” “Our?”
“Yes, so ask about my sister, you already saw her.”
“No…no I…no…”

“No what?” He laughed, sliding down the seat, slinking and crawling towards me, “Should’ve ignored the call about your grandmother…you fell for it…so will your family.”

“Eyes, no eyes.”

“So you did meet her?!” A sound worse than nails on a chalkboard came from him, “Ask.”

“How old…is she?”
“He opened his mouth, drool dripping, “Tell her.”
“110.” A female rasp said by my ear before two mouth clamped on me, and fog swirled into the room and my vision faded to that putrid red.