The day of Emily’s funeral was meant to be a time for mourning, but it became something far stranger. As the village stood in sorrow, a crow—dark as midnight—landed on her coffin. Its unusual violet eyes locked onto the crowd, freezing everyone in place. Some whispered prayers; others held their breath. Crows are often seen as omens, and this one felt different. Then, in a voice that didn’t seem its own, it spoke: “The forest. The cabin. The truth.”
Emily’s grandmother, Margaret, knew the old stories. “She’s trying to tell us something,” she said. That night, Emily’s parents rushed to their abandoned cabin, their hearts pounding. There, hidden under a floorboard, was Emily’s diary. The pages revealed a nightmare—her uncle and the village doctor had been poisoning her. Worse, they had done the same to other children.
The police uncovered a twisted scheme of illegal experiments. At the trial, the crow appeared again, watching from the rafters as the guilty were sentenced. Afterward, it disappeared, as if satisfied. Now, a linden tree stands over Emily’s grave, and every year, a raven visits—proof that some truths can’t stay buried forever.
