Poetry for a Murder of Crows.

In honor and respect for Edgar Allan Poe

Content Warning: Suicide and Murder

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It was a dark and stormy night in Baltimore when the murder occurred. A woman had been brutally stabbed 18 times in her own home, and the police were at a loss as to who could have done such a terrible thing. The streets were quiet, except for the occasional cry of a mourning relative, and the eerie cawing of a raven in the distance.

The crows had been a constant presence in the city ever since the tragic death of a random scholar, who had taken his own life under the shadow of this mythical bird. It happened inside the chambers of this scholar while one of these eerie yet breathtaking creatures was perched on a bust of Pallas. 

His soul had become bound to this world, and now the raven had come to demand something of him. The scholar was to solve the murders of 231 different innocent women so that 77 murders of crows could take their souls to heaven, or he would never meet his lost love again. He ended his life to meet his love once more in the plutonic beyond. 

The scholar had no choice but to accept the raven's demand, and he set out to solve the murders with the help of the raven's guidance. After the police had left, the scholar stepped into the woman's apartment, trying to connect the dots and find any evidence that could lead to the killer. 

The scholar had a weird habit of saying poetry out loud whenever he made a deduction or encountered an important clue about the situation. As things transpired in the night, he started chanting to order his thoughts and understand what was happening. 

The room was silent, save for the occasional creaking of the floorboards. The furniture was overturned, and there were blood stains on the walls and carpet. 

"Once the police had left the crime scene, 

I, the poet, stepped in to intervene. 

The room was silent, save for the floor's creaks, 

As I began to ponder and think.

The furniture was overturned, in disarray, 

Blood stains on the walls, where the victim lay. 

I searched for clues to piece together, 

To find the killer and stop this terror."

As he walked around, he noticed a small feather on the windowsill. He picked it up and examined it closely. It was a black feather, just like the ones the Raven had. Suddenly, a murder of crows flew in through the window, surrounding the scholar with black feathers and shadows. It was as if they were leading him to something.

He followed the crows deeper into the apartment, checking every nook and cranny for any clues. He noticed that the victim's jewelry box had been emptied, and her phone was missing. He made a mental note to check with the phone company for any recent calls.

As he continued investigating, he noticed something odd about the knife wounds on the victim's body. They were deep and precise as if the killer had been experienced with a blade. He looked around for any sign of a weapon and found a hunting knife in the kitchen sink. It was covered in blood, and the blade was stained with rust.

The scholar knew that the knife was the key to solving the case. He needed to find out where it came from and who had used it to kill the victim. He remembered a popular armory in Baltimore that sold hunting knives like the one he had found. He decided to investigate the place, hoping to find some answers.

"The knife wounds were deep and precise, 

A sign that the killer was experienced with a device. 

The blade was rusted and covered in blood, 

A weapon of choice, for the cruel and the crud.

The knife was the key to solving this case, 

I had to find its origin and its face. 

I remembered a popular armory, 

Where they sold hunting knives like this, for glory."

He transported himself to the armory in the dead of night, where he pored over the customer profiles. After hours of reading, he finally found a customer who had a peculiar tendency of engraving his knives with initial letters. The letter on the knife matched the initial letter of the victim's name.

Furthermore, he discovered that this customer had a long history of buying multiple knives sporadically. The scholar began to suspect that this customer was a serial killer. He made a mental note to investigate further and report his findings to the police. The scholar knew that he had to act fast to catch the killer before he could claim any more victims.

"The letter on the knife matched the victim's name, 

It was not a coincidence, but a clear sign of blame. 

This customer had a long history, 

Of buying multiple knives, sporadically.

My mind raced, as I deduced, 

That this customer was a killer, accused. 

I knew I had to act fast, 

To catch the killer, and end the past. 

For the sake of the innocent, and their fate, 

I had to act before it was too late."

The scholar traced the customer's address to a remote lodge, hidden in the wilderness. He knew he had to act fast, before the killer's next victim, breathed her last.

As he arrived, he saw the hunter, with an innocent woman, he had taken asunder. She was bound and gagged, with fear in her eyes, as the hunter chuckled, with evil in his guise.

The scholar knew he had to act, but he was not alone. The murder crows had followed him, their dark feathers ruffling in the wind. They cawed and croaked, a chorus of menace that made the hunter shudder.

With a wave of his hand, the scholar signaled the crows to attack. They swooped down, their beaks and talons tearing at the hunter's flesh. The woman screamed, but the scholar knew he had to act fast. He cut her bonds with a knife he had brought and helped her to her feet.

Together, they watched as the crows continued their assault. The hunter cried out in pain, but the crows showed no mercy. They dove and pecked, until finally, the hunter fell to the ground. The scholar and the woman fled the scene, but the crows remained, their work done.

As they walked away, the scholar could hear the crows cawing behind them. They were pleased with their work, but the scholar knew there were still more victims out there. He had to continue his search, to save the souls of innocent women, so he could one day meet his lost love again.

The scholar led the woman to the streets and towards a police station while he rapidly disappeared without her noticing. As the day was breaking, he could see the murder of crows flying towards the skies carrying the souls of the women that were victims to this hunter towards heaven. 

The scholar walked silently in a black cloak made with black feathers reciting one last poem for the day:

"From the depths of sorrow, I rise,

My heart shattered, but still, I prize 

The memory of my Lenore, so fair, 

With raven hair and skin so rare.

I swear by the stars above, 

And the mysteries of the dove, 

That I will find her once again, 

And we will be together, free from pain.

I roam the streets, my mind ablaze,

Searching for her for endless days, 

But though the journey be long and hard,

I will not falter, nor be scared.

For my love, my sweet Lenore, 

Is worth the trials that lie before, 

And I will not rest, till she is found, 

And we are reunited, forever bound.

So hear me now, oh spirits of the night,

Grant me the strength to win this fight, 

And I will journey on, through light and dark, 

Till I am once again, with my love, 

Lenore..."