The crows gathered on the roof of the house. A hundred of them or more, all in a row, a cacophony of caws as they jostled for position amongst the crowd. On observing this event, many of the wisest sages and scholars from the town pondered the exact meaning of such an occurrence.
“Look at all the crows!” said Ethel. “I wonder what they’re all doing up there?” “I bet they’re hungry,” said Tina. “And now they’re looking for food.” “Crows eat eyeballs,” Daniel said seriously. “Dead eyeballs.” That was all he knew about crows. “Our house must smell of rotting meat then,” Claire said. “We must live in a house of dead flesh!”
“A gathering of crows like that means there’s going to be a storm,” Agnes called out to the children as they played on the swing. “You better all come inside before you get wet. I’ll make some hot chocolate and we can watch the lightning through the window.”
“An ominous warning,” the witch said, as she watched through her telescope from afar, in the comfort of her cottage, in the safety of the woods. “A portent for the horrors to come.” She cackled so gleefully the dolls covered their ears.
Back at the house, the crows, unaware of the speculation over the purpose of their existence, slid one by one down the icy gutter as if it was a slide, then joined the back of the queue to wait for another go.
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Notes:
1. Written between May 12th, 2021 and May 21st, 2021
2. I love crows
3. And wish of course to be one