Let the Crows Squawk

" Did you hear about young Scrooge and Marley?"

" The Devil's children, them boys are! Lovers of sin!"

" Come, Ebenezer."

The reassuring hand of love firmly on my shoulder, the young Jacob Marley brought some needed courage to the heart that held him captive. I turned to him, the words of those judgemental paupers spinning endlessly around my head. The old woman with the careworn rags and the feckless young adolescent – no older than Marley and I – stood together, hunched over like a couple of crotchety old crows. As their voices faded into this bleak world, they no doubt continued the conversation as they scurried away cackling. Marley smirked, knowing instantly of the thoughts we both shared. None were uttered out loud, but in our hearts, we agreed that the words of those wicked rats were just as ugly as their voices. Because, of course, just as our God made us, we never set out to have such feelings. Our hearts beating, and bleeding, we searched London's entirety for all that we desired. Two petite beauties; my Belle and his Georgina. But no real, true love came of our pursuit of them.

" Ebenezer? Ebenezer, let's go." Marley's voice, in this very moment, mimicked the pouring of honey into a vat of the pure sweetness of his soul.

No. No love came of our pursuit of our women. But of each other.

" Yes," I agreed, " let us."

A grin, brighter than any sun I'd ever seen, spread across Marley's face. He then drew a line across my jaw, and as he reached my lips with a mere fingertip, my darling Jacob Marley kissed me tenderly among all the crows.