In the middle of a dissonant melody the raindrops fall into the void, in the middle of a colorless day, gray takes over everything that is in sight, in the middle of that gloomy day two women, mother and daughter, meet facing a hole in the ground. In the air a symphony rises, the tears are confused with opaque and melancholic drops, they roll one by one, in pitchers, down her cheeks, and fall to the ground. The moment they stepped on the ground within that terrain they knew that no one was prepared for this, their hearts boiled, their heartbeats made their skin vibrate and their hands trembled at their impotence. Once they had everything, and now they had nothing. The stormy breeze simulated a dark and pagan laughter, somewhere a profane and sadistic god laughed at the misfortunes of these two women, and in them there were only shattered desires and autonomous carcasses without motive and reason to live. However, in the noise of the storm was hidden something more than the despicable destiny of the man, and in it, that woman distinguished a sound that she could never forget: a song and the sound of a bird that seemed to understand her pain.
Time slipped between a darkened sky and the pale skin of what had once been two human beings. Happiness and enjoyment were already tricks from a past memory, an irrepressible burden that was present at all times, making their bodies bend over in pain. A fleeting reminiscence of what had been before was the only thing left after a miserable future. The beating of a heart irradiated with love now lay mute and devoid of energy. A man who had loved with all his being was the true nature of those vestiges of flesh deposited in the coffin. A huge hole was gradually covered by the earth, some bells rang in the distance showing their compassion for those two souls who now walked by force on the face of the earth. A raven perched on top of the cross that served as a tombstone; his eyes, surprisingly human, looked tirelessly at the sorrow that twisted the spirit of women. How cruel is the world in which humans live, and even more cruel is the karma that it holds for all of them. At the moment that girl lifted her head, her eyes met the raven's gaze and were lost in the midst of its glare. That moment would be the last time that a tear would roll from her face, that moment would be the last time that she walked the path that her destiny had carved out for her. In a world without rules or gods, the will of men quickly twists the most iron threads of destiny. The girl heard the sinister melody again and like a ship immersed in the high seas, her consciousness wandered through the ocean of darkness never to return; she would not be the same as before, the world would not be the same as before.
She looked at the headstone again, and on it she could only see a reminder of her own frustration. She was to blame for that result, even if that wasn't true, and she had to pay for her sins, just as others had to. Her reluctance to act on her own, her abstention in moments of crisis, those were the culprits of three homicides: that of that man, that of herself, and that of the other woman. Even if the two women were still alive, they would never be the same again. Even if that sky dissipated, once the sun returned their scars would become evident. Still, hopelessly broken, they would turn the page; that day, she would turn the page. Someday, faced with another crisis, she would prove to herself that she deserved to live, the crisis, yet to come, would be a test for her strength, her devotion, her will. She would never allow another disaster to repeat itself, not in her presence. The raven could only see her face and let out a pleased caw. If she accepted the path that lay ahead of her then the future still awaited that mother and that daughter of hers.
The sky felt the determination of the girl and tears of compassion stopped flowing from it. A mother and a daughter hugged each other tightly and promised to carry on, in memory of him, in memory of a father and a husband. In his name a new life would be built for each one of them, however in his last name only oblivion could grant them freedom. They would disappear from this world, as they should. They would die that day together with their loved one, and would be reborn in other clothes and in other places. That was the promise they made in the name of their love.
The girl said goodbye to the other woman, who was lifted by her in a car and entered the cemetery that kept in itself the secrets of their ancestors. The raven represented to her the beginning of her new self. And like that flock that follows their shepherd, that girl followed the raven, which flew from side to side between tombs and mausoleums. Where she would end up was the result of many coincidences, or perhaps the intervention of some blasphemous god. In the center of the cemetery an imposing tomb stood soberly, in the middle of a wooden door with golden details that girl saw the raven get lost and quickly descended into the catacombs. At the end of an endless journey she found another coffin, and a circular room where the cold chilled the bones and the light had no place. The raven, motionless, waited on the worn marble lid that covered the coffin.
The girl approached cautiously, in the middle of the darkness her senses were lost like stars in space. Her steps, slow and measured, echoed on the walls of what seemed to be an ancient tomb. When the girl looked for an inscription, she alone could notice that what had previously been engraved was now lost due to the erosion of the stone. As soon as she was lost inside her thoughts, a rhythmic sound brought her back: the raven pecked from time to time at the marble surface that separated the contents of the coffin and the outside. When the raven and the girl exchanged glances, she was able to understand the message that the bird seemed to be transmitting to her: open it.
Her delicate hands slid the lid off the coffin, and although it took some initial effort, the goal was accomplished. Only surprise and bewilderment occupied the girl's face, only an engraved wooden box, with a letter that she would distinguish from a thousand, was inside the empty tomb that lay in front of her. That was the handwriting of the man who had once dedicated all her love to her, that was the handwriting of the father and husband that the two women had been watching over.
The natural impulse of the woman was to open the box, and in the midst of her emotion she took a letter in her hands and began to read it. Her head felt numb, her tears, a mixture of sadness and joy, fell from time to time on the letter and the contents of the box. That letter had her name, that letter contained the last will of the man. The box was a gift, his gift, and the manifestation of the only wish that man, now dead, had. On that day fortune had acted as an intermediary, and that day that yellow-eyed raven had interceded in the world of men.
In that box a beautiful brown jasper shone, part of a golden bracelet that was difficult to distinguish in the absence of light. The shine of that precious stone overshadowed the interior of the box, which was blurred in the shadows. And for that girl that box kept the memory of that man. At that moment, she closed the box with her hands and hugged it, at that moment, with her legs, she danced to the sound of a mysterious song and the cawing of a bird that rejoiced at having fulfilled its task. At that moment the girl understood that only in her was the will to move forward, and in that crypt she understood that she would live, for her own good and that of the other woman, because that was the last will of the man. And in a matter of hours she would be another day, and that day would be the brightest of all. In that dark and dilapidated catacomb, an unbreakable will was born and prepared to face the unstable future that threatened her existence. That night without stars was the birth of the solution to a problem with no way out, and an unprecedented crisis. The day her will would be tested had begun her countdown.
In the immensity of the abyss, the eyes of a rampant beast rested on its next prey, and the echo echoed in a trance the laughter of a sinner.