An eerie silence loomed over the darkness of the dying meadow. In the center stood a lone tree, barren of its leaves, and under it, a single headstone.
No one dared disturb the place but for a young man. His once handsome face had aged greatly in only a few days, and as he trudged through the meadow, a single tear made its escape.
Now in the tree was perched a raven, a dastardly, mean old bird, eyeing the stranger. When the young man reached the stone, he placed upon it a single scarlet rose, glowing brightly in the sea of gray.
But this was all for naught, as the bird swooped down and stole the scarlet token and flew away with the stem between its beak, a smug air about the bird.
The man could take no more and began to weep, for in a flurry of black feathers, his gift had been stolen. The final gift to his fallen love.
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Short Stories and Poems for the Impatient Reader
Short StoryA collection of short stories and poems, many of which I have written in English class or for my friend. All of the stories can be expanded upon, and I may do so and rewrite them later. If you are a reader that cannot dedicate themselves to a long f...
