I grab the note. It's damp, and folded into a triangle, like my dad does with crisp packets, and it's wedged in there pretty well. I pull it inside the room, and unfold it. It's folded way too well for me not to tear just a tiny bit.
The paper is pretty waterproof, surprisingly, and smells like feathers, and expensive ink. This must be a prank of some kind, but I finish unfolding it, and I try to flatten it out to make it readable.
It's written in white ink, or paint of some kind, and the handwriting is actually brilliant, very neat, but with way too many unnecessary loops and twirls. The note is really weird, and it reads as so;
Dear Death's Daughter.
Something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it. We need your help when the time comes. As we are the same, I think you will understand when it happens. We could be allies.
The Apprentice.
I shake my head. Most definitely a joke. Who would believe this rubbish? Shakespeare maybe, but even he could write things less cryptically. I poke my head back out the window again, scoffing in my mind, feeling embarrassed just being associated with it.
"HOW ABOUT NO!" I yell, slamming the window shut and drawing the curtains. Did they think I was an idiot? It was insulting how foolish they think I am.
Was this because of what happened at school today? I kick myself. I grab my phone, to take a picture but there is no-one there. I text Layla. Some-one left a note on my window! I attach a picture of the note. I'm about to hit send, but something tells me not to.
But, if this is a prank, why not get them caught? I grab a slip of paper and write something down quickly. What terrible thing could possibly happen while death is guarding the world? I check the window again. The figure is still standing there, staring up into my window. I wave the note at them like a threat. I tuck it into the bracket of the drainpipe by the window, so no wind could blow it away.
That'll show them, and it will prove the joke, and whoever complains about it will be who did it. I'm glad I go to a private school, where they take more of the stuff seriously. I'm just upset and tired now. I'm going to sleep. Then I can remove that note, and get rid of all of this.
I pull the duvet over my head, so glad it's a Friday. I close my eyes, the tiredness for the cherry blossom seeping into my limbs. I slip off into a dreamless sleep.
I wake up to nearly rolling off the bed in my sleep. It's 8:50. I think about texting Layla. That's probably a good idea, she'll be up by 9 anyway, so that gives me enough time to have breakfast.
I slump downstairs. There's a note on the table from mum. Hana, I need to visit the Cherry Grove for today, and I won't be back for a while. I know how mum gets time off. Death must be in many places at once, so there are many copies of mum currently working, otherwise she wouldn't get any sleep, but those aren't the real mum, just copies who do her work, and have no need to eat, sleep or drink.
So it's strange that she took a day off today. I put some toast on, spreading it with peanut butter as I eat breakfast. She usually only takes a day a month, and she took hers last week. I guess it must be to check on the Cherry Gate or something.
I open my phone, and start texting Layla. I have the whole day to do something. Why not hang out with her? Hey! I take a bite of toast. I need to put a notice on the board to remind my dad to buy smooth peanut butter, not this chunky organic one.
My phone jingles. It's Layla. How are you using ! at 9? Way too early girl. I type a response. Look what you just did. I smile into my phone screen, trying not to choke on peanut buttered crumbs. I need water.
I fish through through the cupboard. I grab a glass and fill it up, staring out the window. The angles of our house are weird. The whole thing forms an 'L' shape, with the bottom backwards, so you can see the bottom of my bedroom window on the second floor from the kitchen window. You get a nice view of the apricot blossoms in spring, but you can't see over the fence at ground level, but I do get an encouraging view of the pride flag in my neighbor opposite's upstairs window.
You're a bad influence. I reply with: I know. :P. I only know a few of the punctuation faces, but I've gotten better at using them like a normal person, even though I'd prefer to write out the whole thing in good grammar, but I guess that takes too long to reply properly.
What did you want to talk about then? Layla has sent. I fill up my glass with water, and type something one handedly as I take a big gulp, typing faster. The record will just have to keep up. Hana (me): Max used up your polishes right?
Layla: Yea.
Hana: Wanna go get some new ones?
Layla: Obvs. Which shopping place though?
Hana: The one in Town?
Layla: The Scythe?
Hana: Yeah, that one.
Layla: But the Raven's nicer.
Hana: Too expensive.
Layla: That isn't a problem for you.
Hana: I know. Just makes it feel more 'caszh'.
Layla: Don't use slang. It's not you.
Hana: Thank death, I thought I'd have to have urban dictionary open at the same time.
Layla: There's some weird stuff on there.
Hana: I know. Avoiding it is a skill I picked up.
Layla: Alright, see you there around 11?
Hana: Cool.
Death. I really need a cheering team to get the confidence for this. It's just Layla, but I feel so jumpy, like someone is going to jump out and point yelling the German insult 'azocial!' but I don't think I'm using that right. Or that anyone in Green Hills knows anything but broken french, basic Spanish and English. I don't think they'd do that, but social anxiety I guess.
I'm going to use going to town as an opportunity to tell Layla about the note the mystery figure left, and have a laugh, checking hesitantly for something that was probably an exhausted hallucination. That makes me think about the note. I should check, and when there's nothing there, tell Layla like it's a real life horror movie, if I turned it off midway through.
I put my glass on the side, admiring the almost rainbow cast through the moisture on the sides from the weak morning sunlight. And as I look up between the branches of the cherry tree, I notice something. Wedged in the bracket of the drainpipe, barely visible is a note. But it's not the one I wrote. This one is on black paper. And I get the weird prickly feeling on my spine back.
YOU ARE READING
A Tale of: Ravens, Scythes and Cherry blossoms
General Fiction'All it takes to consult the dead is a pen, some paper, and a secret you've never told anyone else' Hana is the daughter of death, a hereditary position that has existed for as long as mankind has. She lives through each day with the caw of ravens i...
