Crows screamed murder as I walked through the dark winter morning. Fresh white splotches of excrement lined the sidewalk and I didn’t dare look up for fear of getting an eyeful.
It was 20 minutes to the office, and they would be with me the entire way. They never moved from tree to tree, their ranks were swollen enough they could afford to have eyes everywhere.
It didn’t matter the path I took. They lined all the roads and walkways their calls beating away at my ears.
I would look around at my fellow commuters and they seemed oblivious, hooked into their cell phones and the dreary monotony of the morning. No one ever looked up as the din echoed off the concrete walls of the office buildings they trudged towards. Perhaps they had grown accustomed to the watching?
They never flew down to pick at carrion or scavenge the sidewalks, but instead stayed away up in their naked branches with clear sightlines of those below. It was as though they were waiting for something.
The walk through the park was inevitable. It was impossible to avoid and the worst part of the journey. Its walkways were covered in shadow, so one had a sense of foreboding even without the crows screaming. It didn’t stop them.
I refused to run, but my heart begged me to. This day would be no different, I was not going to give fear any purchase within my mind, so I put my head down and walked, looking neither up nor back despite the deafening cries.
The crows screamed after me as I entered my building, one final piercing cry that struck at my soul and lodged there causing a shiver to run the length of my spine.
As the door shut behind me I knew: they knew.
