The Crows of Fate

Under the blistering sun, two crows are perched on a lamppost as they watch a man with a dark sack cloth over his head escorted to the gallows. The first crow, Screech, leans his head towards the other.

“Oy. Whaddya fink ‘e did?”

The second crow, Hollow, thinks about it. “Don’t know. Could be anyfing.”

The executioners remove the hood off the man; he winces from the harsh sunlight. Screech looks at his face. Missing teeth, a large wart on his nose, bushy eyebrows, and thin greyish-blond hair.

Screech nods approvingly. “Ooh. Murderer. Definitely a murderer.”

Hollow looks closer. “‘Ow can you tell?”

“Oy, just look at ‘im, bruv. Definite murdering type.”

“What does a murdering type look like?”

“Like ‘im.”

“No, forget ‘im and what ‘e looks like. Describe to me what a murdering type looks like.”

Screech bobbed his small head in thought. “Big wart. Missing teef.”

“No, no. Screech, wiffout describin’ ‘im, what physical features do murdering type have in common? C’mon, now. We’ve seen ‘em before, s’not like ‘e’s the first.”

“Right, fair enough.” Screech tried to think up similarities as he watched the executioners walk the man up the wooden steps to stand below a noose.

“I don’t know, Screech, ‘e doesn’t seem like the murdering type,” Hollow voiced.

“Maybe. Yeah, maybe not. Course ‘e could be up there for anyfing, really.” Screech squint his eyes. “Bruv, do you fink ‘e’s guilty?”

Hollow tilted his head to take all things into consideration. After a brief pause, Hollow shook his beak. “Not really, bruv. ‘E just looks like ‘e’s accepted it, even d’ough ‘e probably didn’t do it, whatever it is.”

“You fink the bloke is innocent?” Screech asked.

“I fink likely, yeah,” Hollow replied confidently.

“What does an innocent man look like then?” Screech challenged him half-jokingly.

“Easy,” Hollow began. “It’s all about the way they carry ‘emselves to the noose, see. If they try and run, you can chalk ‘em up right guilty, mate. If a bloke walks up nice an’ easy to the noose, you can bet a fine apple ‘e’s as guilty as they come, ‘cuz ‘e knows it. If they resist, you gotta see in what way. If ‘e’s pleadin’ ‘is innocence over and over, can be tricky, yeah? Some of ‘em know ‘ow to talk their way outta anyfing. But ‘ere’s the easiest way to tell. Fear.”

“Fear?” Screech repeated.

“Fear. If ‘e’s gone up there an’ isn’t doing much, ov’er than standing there, nine times outta ten it’s ’cuz ‘e’s scared stiff and likely didn’t do it. ‘Specially if ‘e cries right.”

“Cries ‘ow?”

“Not too loud, like ‘em blokes who scream they didn’t do it ‘til their necks snap. If ‘e gets just a single tear down ‘is cheek, I tell you, Screech, that man down there didn’t commit whatever crime ‘e’s about to die for.”

The man steps above the trap door and looks straight ahead. An executioner takes the noose and wrings it around his neck. The noose lifts the man’s head up by the chin as the executioner walks towards the lever.

A person with a scroll unveils it and recites laws and punishments based on those laws. His voice drones on and on until he finally concludes with the judgment.

“We hereby acknowledge that the punishment for murder is hanging, for if a man takes a life so shall he lose his. However…”

Screech nudges Hollow. “Told ya, bruv. ‘E’s the murdering type.”

“We here at Port Breckinghamm have our traditions as well,” the scroll person resumed. Screech and Hollow readied themselves, straightening their postures. The scroll person directs his hand towards Screech and Hollow. “The crows shall decide your innocence. If they see your innocence, you will be removed from the gallows and sentenced to prison. If they see your guilt, you will be hanged. If they see your guilt, they will circle over you, symbolizing your impending death. However, if they remain on the lamppost for five minutes, you will be spared.

The man carefully turned his attention to watch the crows decide his fate.

“Pfft, this is a tough one, yeah?” Screech confessed. “Seems like this ol’ bloke won’t give us a read on ‘im.”

“You were right, you cheeky sod,” Hollow admitted. “‘E was a murdering type.”

“That’s crow of ya to admit I was right, and I respect it.”

“Course, ‘e’s also got that fear about ‘im that makes us bof right.”

“True. But I was right first.”

“Well, I’ll tell ya what, mate,” Hollow rationalized. “As I did mention, if ‘e sheds a tear, lets a teardrop roll down ‘is cheek, I fink I’ll spare ‘im.”

“If ‘e doesn’t, then, in five minutes, we go on up and circle over ‘im?”

“Right. Let’s put fate back in ‘is hands, just wiffout ‘im even knowin’ it. ‘E can prove ‘is innocent right now if all ‘e does is let a tear roll down ‘is cheek.”

Screech and Hollow observe the man carefully, noting each detail of the man’s expressions. The man swallows hard, remaining direct eye-contact with the crows. He doesn’t blink. He hardly moves.

“Oy, ‘e’s not givin’ us much, bruv,” Screech whispered to Hollow. “Guarantee you ‘e’s the murdering type.”

“Seems like it, to be honest,” Hollow admitted. “‘E doesn’t resist much, but ‘e also doesn’t look like ‘e’s guilty.”

“Well ‘ow does one look guilty?”

“See the way ‘e’s lookin’ atchya, mate? See how looks at us like ‘e’s expects somefing of us? ‘E doesn’t stare at us like ‘e’s bargaining, ‘e’s just lookin’ at us as if we know ‘e’s innocent.”

“Hollow, I don’t mean to offend but this ‘ere bloke isn’t provin’ much of ‘is innocence. ‘E’s not praying or begging anyone to let ‘im go. At this rate I’ll be sooner dead than watch ‘im shed a tear and go along wiff your feory, bruv.”

Hollow thought about it. Screech was right. The man wasn’t showing any reason to suspect him innocent.

“Guess you’re right then, yeah?” Hollow confessed. “Poor bloke won’t give us much ova reason to stay ‘ere on this ‘ere lamppost. Let’s just give ‘im thirty more seconds to see if ‘e sheds a tear.”

“Fine. But I’ve made up my mind, bruv. ‘E’s a murderer. I can see it.”

The two crows waited another thirty seconds. The man simply stared up at them. The thirty seconds had passed and Screech looked at Hollow.

“Fink ‘e’s a dead man.” Screech flapped his wings and began circling above the man. Hollow followed suit and they both circled above the man, symbolizing his death to the person with the scroll. The person with the scroll pointed to the executioner and he pulled the lever. The man dropped down as the rope snapped his neck, dangling above the trap door.

Screech and Hollow returned to the lamppost as the executioner collected the man’s body.

“Oy, I don’t know if we just couldn’t read ‘is tell or not,” Hollow worried.

“Well, based on your feory, mate,” Screech explained, “if ‘e was truly innocent, ‘e would’ve shed a teardrop down ‘is cheek, yeah? But nofing. No screamin’ or cryin’ or confessing anyfing at all. And just like you said, sometimes they go up to the noose knowin’ they did it and know they’re going to die.”

“That’s true.” Hollow saw the executioner wheel the man’s body away from the gallows, leaving him and Screech by themselves. “I suppose we’ll never know. I suppose sometimes a bloke like ‘im’ll depend too much on fate and not speak up. If ‘e said just anyfing, mate, anyfing at all, I would’ve let ‘im go, stayed right ‘ere on this ‘ere lamppost.”

“I know, bruv,” Screech consoled. “I know you would’ve.”

Screech and Hollow left the gallows to scavenge for food before they would have to return for the next hanging, hoping the next one would defend their innocence.