"Ahhh…now you see…much to do…" the bird hops back up to the bed.

Bianca crawls back over to the box on the floor and dives into the
box. She grabs out a pair of black leather pants and a black knit
shirt. She strips off the burial rags and stands naked in the
moonlight. The shine of the moon’s glow glints off the scars left by
the knife plunged into her. The pale skin shines like the light of a
ghost in the window if anyone cared to look in. She tugs the pants
up buttoning the buttons carefully. Then, the shirt is shrugged
into. Next, into the closet again to find a pair of black boots, she
feels a purpose as she dons these clothes. They don’t recall any
memories. Maybe they weren’t hers, but they fit like they were made
for her. She drops back to box and begins rummaging deeper into the
box. She pulls out a tin of old cake make-up and some black
lipstick. She stands striding purposefully toward the old vanity.
She drops the make-up open on the vanity. She digs both her hands
into the white cake paint smearing it around and then rubbing it over
her face covering it. She crouches into the mirror and grabs the
black lipstick. First, she lines her mouth in black pulling out the
smile wide onto her cheeks. Then to finish she paints her eyes
covered in black all dressed up like a theater mask and death’s role
to play.

"Yes, you have it now."

She turns birdlike to regard the crow. There is a new dark light
shining in her eyes. Yes, there was definitely much to do and very
little time. The need to hurry could be felt deep into her own
bones. Something was pushing her and now she knew the deeds she must
complete in order to rest…to rest with Maggie. She walks to the
bedroom door and turns stalking down the stairs. She stands in the
open doorway. She doesn’t know which way to go, but that won’t be a
problem as she feels her guide, her companion in this journey, The
Crow, alight on her shoulder. The steady weight and slight pain from
its claws let her know it’s all-real. Car lights shine onto the
porch grazing over the pair had the driver been looking he would have
seen a frightening visage fit only for those about to die.

"Much to do…" the broken voice comes.

"And very little time…" comes the raspy sound of her unused voice as
she steps off the porch into the cold night.