A Raven

A palpable enemy, the unseasonal heat dominated every day, every activity, the sun overhead an unwelcome prophet of wildfire to come. Even his lightest cotton T-shirt stuck to his skin, a sheen of sweat circled where the cloth met his neck. Hoping for a cooling morning breeze, he left his college studies, leaving the house. Even crows sheltered, unwilling to expose themselves to the grueling temperature.

A few houses away, on a sidewalk shaded by a large oak, two boys fiddled with something that looked like a dead black cat, its carcass bloated, their interest a reminder of his not-long-ago adolescence. He wandered toward them, too hot to focus on anything other than the tree’s shade, the tree still green despite the coming fall, the heat.  Then a nauseating smell stunned his senses. “Hey. What is that thing?”

One of the boys grinned, gestured. “Halloween is coming, right? This here should frighten just about anybody, don’t you think? My buddy and I are just trying to figure out how to make the dead thing last, given the heat and all.” 

The dead green eyes of the battered roadkill next to the boy seemed to follow him as he stared at it. He felt pity, though the creature was far beyond the need for that. It jerked grotesquely, surprising them. They inched away, but not too far, unwilling to relinquish this prize, this guarantee of horror.

“You could put it in a freezer for a while. Wrap it in dark plastic so it isn’t visible. Take it out the day before Halloween to get flexibility, to revive the smell and the ooze?”

He wasn’t going to offer his freezer. The idea was enough, the whole thing their problem, but somehow the heat had included him as comrade for this project. Maybe they could sneak it into the community center refrigerator, or perhaps the one in Scout Hall, if they knew any Scouts. However, they might have to keep moving the creature, hard frozen, if any event before Halloween required the use of a freezer, and this weather practically guaranteed it. “How about if we just find a large container, buy lots of ice to put over our find, and just replace the ice every day. We could keep the container in someone’s crawl space where it won’t be noticed.”They decided on the crawl space under the house of one of the boys.

By this time, the flesh under the fur had begun to liquify, the stench deepening as the ooze began to collect under the carcass. No more time to waste, so they gathered what money they had on them. One stayed to guard the now precious object while the other two went in search of picnic cooler, ice and dark trash bag. When they returned, they used old cardboard from a nearby dumpster to shovel the critter into the bag, packed the corpse into the cooler, poured ice on top and shut the box.

Sweaty, grimy, he left them, moved on with his life, or so he thought.

A couple of days later, he found a note partially shoved under the mat in front of his door. The boys had found him and needed him help again. Where could they defrost the cat? How about his place? They couldn’t risk discovery if the stench came back, even though they were hoping it would. And then, how were they going to locate the dead animal in a very visible place without being caught once it was defrosted? At first, he thought, why me, but then the whole idea of a true Halloween prank appealed. Being an adult had been boring.

Why defrost, and then move? He wondered, if the weather cooled, how long would they need for the defrosting process? A frozen animal dangling over a pathway scary but not as much as an odiferous decomposing one would be.

Why not locate the frozen carcass in its intended place and somehow disguise it during the reincarnation process, if that word applied to a return to a grotesque decomposing corpse? How about rigging up a nest in a tree along the main path of trick-or-treaters, with a net around the cat to prevent its dissolution and a trap door so it could just dangle at the end of a rope, its horrid appearance and rank smell a true Halloween experience? To devise this, keep it secret until the last moment?

They reconnoitered, went searching for the best tree, near a frequented path, large enough to hide the carcass until it was time for release. A large oak next to the street in front of his place seemed perfect, controllable. They bought fish net to wrap around the dead cat and a rope to wrap around its neck. Once the net was cut, the hanged corpse would swing stinking above the sidewalk, a great Halloween caper.

Two days before Halloween, the three met after dark, unpacked the frozen corpse, wrapped it in the netting, placed the rope around its neck, then lodged it just above still hanging leaves in the oak. They left, triumphant, planning to meet at twilight on Halloween, to cut the netting, to release the stinking decomposing corpse. They would hide in nearby shrubbery so they could enjoy the horror of passing trick-or-treaters.

At twilight on October 31, the three met under the tree, barely noticing the huge black raven perched in the upper branches. The bird cawed loudly, they laughed nervously, looked around. One boy reached up, a knife held just below the netting, preparing to cut the dead cat free. Just then there was a loud explosive noise, a great exhaust of stench, the odor seeming visible in the cool night air. The corpse flew from the tree, landing on the boy’s head, drenching him in the liquid of the decompensating corpse.

The raven, netting dangling from its beak, slowly twisted upward from the tree, cawing for companions. A flock flew by, the noise befitting the holiday. The first trick-or-treaters, partnered by parents, glanced down the sidewalk, then chose another route.