Cawsal Pane
by Victorya
Bert and Ernie, two sleek black crows, purple in the rays of the sun, sat on a telephone wire swaying in the breeze. The sky was a cerulean blanket with only slight puffs of marshmallow clouds. Across from them and in their line of sight was a row of quiet suburban houses. Each identical palace of human life rose two stories out of perfectly manicured green lawns broken only by the gray of driveways running from black asphalt to off-white ribbed garage doors.
"Remember when—" Bert cawed.
"What?" Ernie said.
"Remember when—"
"What?"
"Remember when you let me finish a sentence?" Bert blurted out, pecking Ernie on the head with the side of his beak. He plucked out a feather and watched it fall to the ground.
"No," Ernie said. "But I remember when we found that really shiny object last week, remember that?"
"Yeah. Shiny is good," Bert said. "But that's not the remember I was thinking of."
"Really?" Ernie said. "There are other remembers?"
"Remember when we spoke to Raven?" Bert asked.
"Raven the creator or Raven who hangs outside 1D?" Ernie asked.
"Remember when we spoke to Raven about Raven?"
"I want to see Raven," Ernie cawed, suddenly despondent.
They gazed at the suburban home across the street. Windows glistened clear, showing the bucolic breakfast occurring inside. Mom and dad read the newspaper, little girl in pig tails ate her breakfast, occasionally raising her spoon and using it to pull down one of her parent's reading material. Concave up, she bobbed her silver spoon above the paper before pulling it down in a slashing motion. She alternated between the two. When shooed away enough, she giggled and turned to the window and watched the birds watching her.
"Remember when there were more?" Bert asked.
"More what?" cawed Ernie.
"More remembers," Bert replied.
Ernie nodded in what he thought was a solemn way. He looked at the little girl. She was waving to the two birds on the wire.
"I got an idea, Bert," he said. He let go of the wire and fell straight down, opening his wings only a moment before impact. He soared up and toward the little girl. He saw her drop her spoon into the bowl, her eyes widening as he flew toward her. As Bert came closer to the window, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue—Bert used it as a target. He flew straight and true into the window that separated himself from the pink of her tongue.
First there was the crash of bird against glass, followed by the snap of Bert's neck and the scream of the little girl. Then came the rustle of the newspaper as her parents' put them on the table and ran to their daughter. They got to her just as Ernie slammed into the window, his limp body falling to join that of his friend.
This was an always remember for the little girl.
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