Butterflies and Ravens

“Are you sure you want to go back to this moment?”

“I believe the obscene amount of money in your Swiss bank account answers that question.”

“But…it will be the last thing you see.”

“And will I will love every second.”

“And the animal?”

“Stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

Melindra Caine stared out the observation window at the Time Portal. She watched the stunning swirls of energy caught between its circular frame. She knew well how those shades had driven painters mad trying to match them, having subsidized plenty of their quixotic quests. Such a beautiful waste of her first husband’s money. Not as beautiful as husband number three, but few things were. Oh, Javier, she sighed, such a gorgeous monster of a man. At least he died young and taut.

“It’s ready, ma’am.”

Melindra walked down the gantry way in her white robe, right up to the edge of the portal. Thousands before her had crossed that line and traveled back to a moment in time of their choosing. One of happiness, maybe even love. In the process, they transmute themselves into lovely little butterflies or maybe colorful songbirds. A few more corpulent travelers had become hawks. Melindra knew a few that had turned into snakes and rats, but their families paid enough to keep that hush-hush. Based on her size, she knew that what she wanted might be difficult, but such considerations had never held her back before. Men had bent to her will most of her life; time would be no different.

The hypnotic swirling resolved into her chosen moment, the last thing she would ever see. A dark stretch of road deep in the woods, a silver BMW on a direct route with an oak. Stepping across the horizon, Melindra dissipated until all that was left was morbid curiosity and a small raven.

Newly birthed, but with all its natural skills, the raven descended from the upper branches as the BMW squealed and swerved, with the sound of the driver’s screams only catching up once the car was wrapped around the tree. The Melindra raven landed on the crumpled hood and stared into the dying eyes of Gerald Caine. As he breathed his last, did he sense the soul of his wronged wife in the carrion bird before him? Before this final journey, Melindra had imagined this moment every night as she fell asleep. Sometimes during sex with husband number two. So many ways to dream about how this philandering codger who dared think he could divorce her like he had his other wives, and leave her with nothing. She had warned him she was not like those women he had thrown to the side. He was quite happy with more salacious differences but failed to appreciate other nuances. Like her detailed knowledge of how a car works and how best to make a crash look like the accident of a known drunkard. Her only regret in life was that she couldn’t be there to see his final gasp.

Something deep in the bird urged it into the car to pluck out a wandering eye. A trophy, perhaps, or a late night snack. With a quick flick of its wings, the dark raven flew off to live a new life. One without any regrets.

Check out the challenge:

And here’s another story based in the same world, but different emotional center: