He would sit for hours in his chair by the window staring out into the world in which he was no longer an active part of. He would dream, often while wide awake, of hitting baseballs into the deep green grass of the outfield at Turner park, the crowd would cheer him as he rounded the bases headed for home, and he would wave at them. He would give anything to experience the thrill of just running another 90 feet between those bases. But now, the roar of the crowd has grown still and silent, and the disease that eats at his body slowly, is all that there is now he thinks. What he would give just to run free one more time. The young man enters the room and slowly sits down beside of Bobby Westhoven. But the man sitting beside of the window stares emotionless out at the drizzling rain, and barely acknowledges that he is no longer alone.
Charlie Westhoven puts his hand on his older brothers shoulder.
“Bobby? They’re saying that they have to fight you to take your medicine, Bobby.. Please bro you have to-”
He slowly turns to face him his eyes beginning to water.
“Have to what Charlie? Take their medicine so I can live another second, minute or day? Look at me Charlie.. Just look at me for once.. This cancer is eating me alive. Does this look like I’m living to you? Bro. I’m not living, I’m existing.”

Charles Westhoven looks away from his brother, he can feel the tears welling up in his own eyes.
“Charlie look at me man. And this time for the love of whatever God you pray to at night, this time, don’t just look at me Charlie, see me for once. Just see me.”
He turns to him.
“Bobby I don’t want you to die.”
“I’m already dead.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Charlie man, I was a professional baseball player , for three years running, I was the fastest guy in the Majors, nobody ever threw me out, nobody ever caught me. That was living man. This? This shit here? Now I can barely walk across the room without one of these nurses telling me to sit down. This shit here? This ain‘t living bro.. this is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
They both sit in silence for a time staring out at the gathering rain clouds, many minute’s have passed when Bobby Westhoven turns to face his brother again.
“Charlie, we have to face it, I only have a few more days left, I know it, the doctors know it, hell everybody knows it, even if nobody wants to admit it. I’m going to be dead in a couple of days or so.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Charlie?”
“What Bobby?”
“Bro.. do you want me to die happy? With a little peace?
“What do you want me to do?” The younger brother asks.

He turns the study the nurse’s. the look of regret and disdain growing slowly like a slow burning fire in his eyes.
“I miss it. You know? Running I mean. The freedom, the feeling, that nothing on earth could ever catch me, Charlie?”
He kneels down in front of his Brother.
“Yeah?”
“Promise me something. Promise me that you’ll get me out of here before I die, don’t let me die in here bro. please?”
“And go where Bobby?”
“Anywhere that I can run just one more time bud, let me feel that just one more time.”
“There isn’t a baseball diamond around for miles, where would we go?”
“Anywhere but here Charlie.. Anywhere but here.”



He returns two days later to the nursing home where his brother is waiting for his last days, he checks in and asks the head nurse of the whereabouts of Bobby Westhoven. She nods towards the community room.
“He’s in there young man.” The older woman tells him. Her cold eyes never leaving her magazine.
“Ma’am? Would it be alright if I take my brother outside for some fresh air?”
She silently nods without looking, giving him a slight wave. At this point he is certain that his brother is correct in not wanting to stay here, they don’t seem to care. He warmly greets Bobby Westhoven and begins to push the wheel chair to the back sliding double doors that lead out onto the main patio. There is no one there but the two of them. Charlie Westhoven waits for five whole minutes to see if anyone will come out and check on them, when no one does he pushes the wheel chair along the sides of the home until he and his brother are out in front of the building. He stops at the side of his car and loads his brother into the passenger seat, still no one is coming. He sits down in the drivers seat and drives away in haste. He looks over at Bobby Westhoven who is now smiling for the first time in months.
“So Charlie.. Where are we going?.”
“Just hang on Bobby.. I found a place.. Out on Crows Crossing Road.”
He shot a nervous glance at him.
“How long do you think it will be before they notice that you are gone?”
“I don’t know.. What time is it?”
“5:35 pm.”
“They are probably calling the cops right now. You’d better hurry Charlie.”

Within minutes they can hear the sirens coming up behind them as Charles Westhoven pulls out onto Crows Crossing Road and steps down harder on the accelerator pedal. The rain begins to fall as the sirens draw closer.
“Just another mile Bobby. Are you sure that you are strong enough for this?”
He pulls over the car sliding off of the shoulder and jumps from the drivers side of the vehicle. They are coming now so he moves quickly to get his brother out of the passenger seat. He points out into an empty field.
“Home plate bro, its 90 feet out, right there in the grass go Bobby its waiting for you!!”
And as his bare feet touch the soft green rain soaked grass, Bobby Westhoven feels a sensation that he hadn’t felt in over a years time. He feels alive, he walks out into the center of the field to where he sees carefully placed sandbags set at 90 feet apart, and when his feet touch home plate, he knows that he is finally where he belongs. He barely hears it coming from the roads edge behind him. As the policemen drag his brother to the ground. The words seem surreal and slowly roll past his ears like distant thunder.
“Runnnn Bobbbbby!”
For a time, for a very short time, it is as if he can hear the crowd cheering him on as he runs for home, his blood coursing, his heart pounding, legs reaching one in front of the next, and as his frail body falls to the ground they are on him trying to save him from fate. He stares up at the pouring rain, as they urge the paramedics into the field. His heart slowing with each passing second, he stares up at the Crow, and there is no more pain. For they may take his body, but his soul shall forever run free, here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch.. A.B.T. copyright © 2008~




^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

There once was a love here, amongst the thorns,
And honeysuckle leaves.
Where my love and I, walked hand in hand,
As we spoke of distant dreams.

Beneath a clouded sky of gray,
As each day became the next,
In the rain soaked grass, I reached for her,
And prayed it not to end.

On our last day here, I made love to her,
But that’s as far as our story goes,
For her husband came, and laid us both to rest,
Here along Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch~ A.B.T. copyright © 2008~

Level headed Blindness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



He listened to the conversation intently coming from the booth next to his in the small building called “City Diner” he came here because it was a strange little place that didn’t seem to mind that a person still smoked a cigarette after breakfast as long as they did it in the smoking section. He exhaled a soft plume of gray smoke as his eyes slowly drifted down to the front page of the Sutterville Times. The headline spread out across the front page: “Missing Tallmadge Girl, Sally Ann Miller, Still Not Found.“ his ears strained against the noise to hear what the two young men behind him were saying. The conversation seemed to flow around the place where the young girl was last seen, and being new to the area Terrence Butler knew nothing about Crows Crossing Road other than there were some of those really annoying birds that lived out there. oh he’d heard the outlandish claims by the locals, the Crows that lived out there were special, no, not your run of the mill birds by any stretch, these Crows were the keepers of the spirit world. He dismissed every account as total bullshit, and had many times offered to prove that they was nothing special about the crows by going out to Crows Crossing to kill one of them, just to bring back the body to show everyone that See? I told you its just a bird.

He finished his coffee before checking his watch, as he reached across the table to stub out the cigarette butt. He could still hear the conversation as the voice's wandered through the fake plastic plants that separated the two booths. “If She’s still out there, the crows will protect her until help comes.. And if anyone has hurt that poor young girl well then.. God help them.” he rose from the booth and headed for the counter to where he paid for his breakfast. He handed the cashier a twenty and she gave him his change as he turned his head to face the rain soaked picture windows in front of City Diner. He turned back towards the waitress, “Does it ALWAYS rain here?” he asked her in an agitated tone. She smiled. “Pretty much.” she studied him for a time before turning her attention towards the other patrons. He stepped out through the front door and headed for the pick up truck, stopping momentarily to ask a young man about to enter the establishment for directions. “What’s the quickest way to Dutton?” the young man turned and looked to the east and raised his fore finger pointing at some trees. “C.C.R. it’s right on the other side of those trees. You could go with state route 12 but it’ll take you at least three hours longer than if you take Crows Crossing.” he nodded silently as he lit another cigarette. He got into the truck and turned the key and headed for Crows Crossing Road.

Lost Along the way
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



The rain wasn’t that heavy at first, as it softly tapped at the windshield of the Ford F-150 pick up truck. His thoughts sifted through the stories that he’d been hearing of this strange place, Ghost stories, stories of life and death, and the strange Birds that flew there. He drove the thoughts out of his head and tried to concentrate on the road. He never believed in shit like that, ghost stories, birds watching over the dead. It was all superstitious baloney, it had to be. He never believed in anything he’d supposed, only what he could see and touch, ever since he was a kid, always with him, there was nothing more than a world in the physical sense. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he felt the Ford’s steering wheel jerk in his hands and the engine slowly began to sputter and die. Angrily, he slammed his hands on the steering wheel as he made his way to the shoulder of the road. He got out in the rain and lifted
The hood to examine the engine looking for any signs of mechanical failure. But it wasn’t until he looked up that he saw the large black shadow circling overhead. He slowly stepped away from the vehicle as the large Black crow landed on the hood and stared at him.

He paused to try to lit another cigarette shaking his head all the while. “You can’t be too damn bright if your flying around in this kind of weather” he had barely gotten the words out when the crow flew straight at him forcing him to duck and lose his footing sending him sprawling on the wet shoulder of the asphalt. Angry he began to yell at it as he rose to his knees, “Go on! Get outta here damn ya!” he threw a rock at it and the bird circled high into the sky and came again flying straight down at him. He ducked and rolled as it barely missed him, finally it came to rest on a stump just at the edge of the tree line. Time and time again he threw rocks at it, almost hitting it several times but it remained unmoved. Now, he was beginning to get a headache, as he slowly calmed down, he began to wonder. “So.. Why are you just sitting there? Damn it, I almost hit you like six times.” he went to the cab of the Ford and pulled out the flashlight from under the seat and slowly walked towards the crow. He was a mere two feet from it when it flew through the trees and landed another ten feet away, Terrence Butler and the crow repeated the entire performance three more times before the cynical young man realized that the strange bird was trying to get him to follow it.

Finale.
~~~~~~~~~



Some seventy yards into the woods the game abruptly ended as the crow now had refused any further retreat from Terrence Butler. It simply sat up on a tree branch, its feathers ruffled against the softly falling rain. He shined the light around in circles several times before shining it back up at the unmoving Crow which was now looking directly down at him. He leaned back against a tree and tried to light another cigarette.
“So now what big boy? Are we just going to sit here all night?.”
He’d just barely gotten the words out when the muffled sounds of something stirring at the bottom of the ravine and a disturbing thought had both simultaneously crossed through his mind. A chill began to tug at him as he quickly looked back up at the Crow, and then finally towards the ravine.
“No way this can happen.” he thought to himself. And yet when he made his way down into the ravine, the flashlight began to illuminate the small form of a young child.

Frantically he tried to remember the name from the papers headline. “Sally Ann Miller?” he softly called out. He climbed down into the ravine and there she lay, muddy and bruised but very much alive. She whimpered softly as he picked her up and looked up at the Crow. “Ok. I believe you now. Please show me how to get us out of here.” the crow began to make its way back out of the woods towards the road with an eager Terrence Butler in tow. When he’d finally made it back to the truck he gotten out the cell phone and began to dial 911 and related the location to the operator. He wrapped the child in his coat and together he, the crow and Sally Ann Miller, all three waited for aid to arrive. They sat in silence as Terry Butler became lost for a time in his thoughts. Finally, through the soft rapping of the rain came the first distant wails of sirens cutting through the dark afternoon sky. Once again he looked up at the crow. “You know they’re never gonna believe this.” he watched in silence as the bird returned to the sky, circling several times before disappearing. he would tell them the story several times without wavering, about the girl, about the crow. Somehow they had believed him, without question, for everyone knows as the crow knows that nothing is ever as it seems here on Crows Crossing Road.

Scratch A.B.T copyright © 2008.

He nervously awaits for his partner to return from the woods, Lewis Hiller has known Clay Canton for most of his life, and he has also known him to always be of the criminal sort. In and out of jail his whole life, and Canton’s latest venture has had them on the run from the law for the past two months now. They had found themselves here at Crows Crossing Road only three short hours ago. Only three short hours for Clay Canton to make the biggest mistake of his worthless life. Lewis had watched stunned as Canton has carried the cold limp body of the beautiful young girl they had picked up only 90 minutes ago, into the woods. He still hasn’t returned yet and it is nearing nightfall. He tries to light a cigarette as the rain begins to fall, and finally Clay Canton appears from out of the woods, he gives him a dirty look as he appears to be smiling from ear to ear.
“Geezus Clay! Are you crazy?? Raping a girl is one thing.. But strangling her in the back seat afterwards? What are you trying to get us the death penalty?”
He pushes past Lewis Hiller and lowers himself into the drivers seat, motioning for his accomplice to get in as he lights a cigarette of his own. they pull back onto Crows Crossing Road and begin to head east.
“She could’ve Identified both of us Lewis. And besides she shouldn’t have been hitch hiking on Crows Crossing that close to nightfall anyways.”
“We didn’t have to stop Clay.. Damn it man we could’ve kept on driving!!”
He stops the car and turns to face Lewis Hiller.
“Number one.. I was horny.. Number two.. She was cute.. Number three end of story.. Got it?? Look. We have to ditch this car before we hit Cantorville. The cops are probably looking for it right now, after that store we hit in Pleasantville. Now.. You know this place better than me. So where’s the safest place to stop and get something to eat before we boost a new set of wheels?”
Lewis Hiller stares straight ahead.
“Junction 31.. Three mile ahead.”
It is almost seven pm when they enter the roadside diner, and right away Clay Canton is scoping out the locals. There is only the cook and the waitress as they take their seats at the counter. The older gray hair woman with the warm smile takes their orders and hustles over to the cook to place it. Clay Canton becomes startled when he looks to his left and sees the old Indian looking gentleman seated right next to him. He hadn’t heard him enter or even sit down, as he begins to take notes on his appearance, he isn’t a particularly large man, but has these dark cold crystal like eyes, and in his long jet black hair hangs a single red feather.



Clay Canton tries to shake off the vibes that he seems to be getting from the elder Indian, who is sitting calmly next to him drinking a hot dark liquid that Canton takes to be black coffee. Out of the blue the old Indian strikes up a conversation.
“You know.. In the olden times, the law and justice were much closer to one another than now. And when you trespassed upon the dignity and humanity of another human being, you often paid for such intrusions with your own life. But now. There is a great distance between law and true justice, now the law would like to understand why such trespasses are committed, and justice has become blinded to the truth. In the olden times such crimes as rape and murder were dealt with severely, most times the guilty were punished for their crimes accordingly.”
Clay Canton tries desperately to ignore the old Indian but the coincidence of his statement is too much for him to ignore for long. The Indian has turned to face Clay Canton.
“You see. You are in a very special place now. And here there is true justice, the land sees all here, knows all here, and it’s justice here, you will never escape.
Tread your path with great caution here young one. Justice is watching you now.”
He gets up and walks out the door, leaving behind him a pale looking Clay Canton who is urging Lewis to return to the vehicle. They turn the vehicle around and head west the way they came, as he nervously shares his suspicions with Lewis Hiller.
“I don’t know how Lewis.. But he knows what we did.. He knows about the girl. That creepy old fuck knows everything. And we have to catch up with him. Keep your eyes open!”
Through the rain soaked windshield they can make out the form of the old Indian making his way across the grassy field moving towards the woods. Clay Canton removes the snub nosed .38 caliber pistol from under the seat and pulls the car to the side of the shoulder of Crows Crossing. The two men jump out and begin to follow him into the woods, as the headlights of their vehicle have attracted the attention of two highway patrolman, who are now examining the abandoned car.
“I’ll run the plates.. You take the spotlight and check by those trees, but don’t get too close.” The senior patrolman tells his rookie partner. He gets thirty feet from the edge of the woods when he makes out a couple of strange shapes. He cautiously moves in for a closer look when he realizes that what he is seeing are two pairs of feet swinging just below the tree line. He yells through the rain for his partner to come.
“Call for Medical transport! we have two bodies hanging from the trees!!”
As they push their way through the woods they soon find themselves looking up into the lifeless stares of Clay Canton and Lewis Hiller.” the senior Patrolman sees that it is too late and cancels the emergency.
“Take your time.” he tells the dispatcher. “The dead are in no hurry.”



It is the first time in his ten years of patrolling the beautiful landscape of Crows Crossing Road that officer Jonathon Cline has found himself alone in his cruiser. He has always loved the peace here and has learned to trust his instincts where the land and nature here are concerned.
Something this rainy night pulls him eastward, he cannot explain it to himself and doesn’t begin to try, he just drives, and when the silent black streak flashes out across the front of his headlights he calmly pulls to the shoulder of Crows Crossing Road, and calmly steps out of the vehicle. He shines his light out into the field and an image slowly takes shape somewhere out at the very edge of his view. He walks slowly towards the vision through the rainy night and comes upon the sight of a single black crow perched on a broken fence post, it does not move as he draws closer it is then that he notices the odd red streak across its head.
“Well hello there little fella.. Why am I not surprised to see You here?”
He shines the light across the landscape, and the light travels across the form of a shivering young woman who lye naked in the wet grass. He hurriedly sees to her immediate aid before requesting an ambulance of his own. She has been severely beaten and more than likely raped but she’s alive. He wraps his coat around her and carry’s her to his cruiser, he lays her down in the seat, and when he looks up he finds himself staring into the eyes of the crow with the peculiar red streak traveling along the top of its head.
“So.. How do you guys always seem to know?”
As the comforting sound of sirens begin to pierce the night time skyline, the Crow once again returns to the air, leaving mortal men on this earth to wonder what justice has been served this night here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch A.B.T. copyright © 2008.~

Hurried Life.
+++++++++++++++++++



As the first drops of rain begin to hit the wind shield, he looks down at the speedometer of the BMW. He’s only doing sixty five miles per hour, and the road conditions had only slightly worsened in the past twenty minutes or so, so he pushes his speed up to seventy five. The morning commute was bad enough driving all of the way from Sutton to Cantorville, almost all the way on Crow Crossing Road. this morning though it was the worst, he’d had a flat tire almost three quarters of the way there, and it caused him to fall behind on his tight schedule. He’d had to stay at the office an extra two hours to make up for lost time and it put his shift at a tough thirteen hours total. He had to put fifty miles behind him quickly to get home in time for dinner and to be in bed by nine pm, and it was already seventy thirty. He thinks that he isn’t going to make it, so he pushes harder on the accelerator petal pushing his speed up to eighty miles per hour. The next thing he remembers is the right front tire begins to shake violently, and as he over compensates by yanking hard on the steering wheel the car veers sharply sideways and begins to roll over several times. The next thing he knows is he is laying down in the wet grass looking up at the rain clouds. He pulls himself up and is now on his hands and knees. Through the dark rainy night he can see the car laying on its side. One wheel is still turning, and the night draws eerily quiet. That is when he first hears the soft almost raspy voice coming to him through the rain.
“Go on Charlie. Look at it. Look hard at what you’ve done. And then ask yourself. Is this really worth it?”
He tries to stand but his legs are completely numb and he falls down on his side. He answers the voice without questioning it.
“I don’t know what to think right now.”
“I know what your thinking Charlie. You’re thinking the same thing that everyone is thinking when they find themselves in this very position. Do I deserve to die?”
He blinks almost involuntarily.
“I don’t recall asking that . But I suppose it is a good question. So do I? deserve to die I mean?”
He can feel the moisture of the rain as it begins to seep through his clothes, but the voice is all that he can hear now.
“I would think that a better question to ask yourself is do I really deserve to live?”
“I have a life. A wife. Two beautiful kids.. A big house. Cars.”
“No Charlie. That isn’t your life. that’s your existence. Your work that’s your life isn’t it?”
He looks up at the rain unable to answer. The cold water splashes across his face . Too many things that he REALLY did want to do, but never had quite enough time in his daily schedule. He wanted to take his son fishing. Be there when his daughter scored the winning goal in her soccer game. To look into the eyes of his beautiful wife to tell her how much he really did love her.
“ Funny isn’t it Charlie? How so many people- no. too many people spend the most important part of their lives trying to make a living . Too busy to actually do any living.”

Epiphany.
++++++++++++



Now he can’t hear anything. More rain comes. The numbness, the emptiness returns, filling him, he lays there waiting for the voice to return. He certain that he will not survive beyond this night.
“Emma.. I wish you were here baby. I’m so cold without you. Hug the kids. Tell them to pray for daddy.”
“So. that’s it then? Ready to give up are you?. Hmmm. Charlie. Is that what you really want to do? Give up?. But there’s a catch there too Charlie. You’re not just giving up on you, you’re giving up on them too.”
“ But. If I’m going to die? .. How can I . stop it? I have no control over-”
“Charles Hatcher.. I am about to do you a great service. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Oh its not a huge secret.. In fact there are people in the world who have always known it. You see, Charlie think about. Life isn’t about control. The wealthy think that their money gives them complete control over their destiny, with it they fight with age, they fool themselves into thinking that life is forever, and they can buy their way out of anything. But control Charlie. It’s merely an illusion. No one is in control. No one knows what fate holds in store for them. Life isn’t about control Charlie, it’s all about-.”
He hears them in the distance roaring over the beating rain, sirens. Sweet beautiful sirens. And as the ambulance pulls up to the over turned vehicle he knows they will find him. The voices seem distant, but are distinct.
“C’mon Joey. Find him. She said that he was laying in the tall grass.”
And as suddenly as the world had turned upside down they were on him, picking him up, putting him on the stretcher.
“You’re not a ghost Charlie.. Not yet anyway.”
“His blood pressure is normal.. Heart rate normal. He has a few minor cuts but that’s about it. We’ll have to check him for broken bones though, lets get him to Mercy Hospital.”
They’re loading him now, and as they pick up the stretcher and carry it to the ambulance, he sees in the rain the Crow that has landed on the top of the back of the ambulance staring down at him.
“No control Charlie. Only what is and what isn’t. oh you will survive life.
But the living part. that’s up to you.”
No one was there to see. No one saw. And yet the woman on the phone that had identified herself as Emma Hatcher knew that her husband had an accident, and knew exactly where the accident took had taken place. The ambulance driver closes the door and pauses to look up at the Crow sitting on the top of the carriage. He smiles at his partner nodding towards the Crow. .
“Maybe he told her where the accident was.”
They laugh nervously at the beautiful bird. And return to the front of the ambulance. And the crow returns to the air. For he knows that there are enough restless spirits here tonight already, roaming their world, searching endlessly for unreachable answers here on Crows Crossing Road.

~Scratch A.B.T. Copyright © 2008.~