About a month ago, I started going on walks around town to enjoy the warmer weather. Almost every Saturday, I would set off down the street, passively soaking in the warmth of the sun before inevitably landing in my favorite local coffee shop.
As much as I would enjoy spending the afternoon in the air-conditioned sanctity of the café, I was determined to make the most of the beautiful weather the day had been graced with. I hastily grabbed my order and left, turning down the street toward the park.
I definitely made the right decision. Sun filtered through the trees, casting the ground around me in a shade of deep emerald green, speckled with patches of vibrant gold. The sun was warm, but not sweltering, being kept in check by the occasional breeze that pushed silently through the canopy, like the gentle footsteps of some unseen giant.
I found an empty bench resting in the shade of a pear tree. I made myself comfortable before taking a sip of my coffee. I pulled out my bagel from the takeout bag, and as I did I noticed a crow had swooped down from the treetops onto the gravel in front of me. It stared at me, just a few feet away, and tilted its head curiously, almost like a dog.
So feeling generous, I tore off a small corner of the bagel and tossed it towards the crow. Surprisingly, it caught the entire chunk in its mouth before it could even hit the ground, devouring it in a manner that reminded me of a pelican. I chuckled slightly, watching it peck at the ground, picking up any scraps of bread it could find.
I was surprised at how close the crow was, as I’ve only ever seen them at a distance before. Cautiously, I held out another piece of my bagel, and to my surprise it quickly tore it out of my hands, but did not retreat as I would expect. Pushing my luck, I slowly extended a hand out, at which the crow pressed itself against my palm, like a cat that wanted attention. I was delighted.
As soon as I had polished off the last of my bagel, the crow flew off, startled by someone walking their dog along the path. I had never much cared for birds prior to this encounter, but the minute I got back to my apartment I found myself dancing between Wikipedia articles detailing various types of crows and ravens, trying to identify the species of the friend I had made that day.
I’m no ornithologist by any means, but thanks to the infinite wealth of knowledge afforded by the internet, I had a solid guess that the bird I had seen that day was a Corvus brachyrhynchos specimen. Based on the size, I estimated that he was a male. I named him Sebastian.
Much of the magic of my encounter with Sebastian had worn off by the time the sun had fully set over the horizon. By nightfall, the warmth of the day turned to oppressive humidity, so I flung open the window near my bed to let in some fresh air. I poked my head out, allowing the night’s chill to wash over me. I saw dark shadows briefly flicker over the moon overhead. Without a second thought, I climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep.
I woke up at the crack of dawn, much to my own displeasure, and began getting ready for work. As I dragged myself across the room to close the window however, I noticed something strange. Two metal coins, shimmering in the early morning sun, were sitting on the windowsill. I picked them up curiously. They were two quarters, completely unremarkable in every aspect aside from their location. I didn’t remember leaving anything there the night before, hell I don’t keep change anywhere besides an old jar in my kitchen. I live alone on the third floor of an apartment complex, no chance anybody but me could put those coins there.
Suddenly, my alarm went off. I hastily grabbed my phone to check the time. I was running late for work. So thinking nothing of it I grabbed my bag and jogged down the street to my office. By the time I got home that evening, I had forgotten all about the coins, completely exhausted from the daily grind.
And so, life went on as usual. That was, until the next weekend when I decided to take another walk down to the park, bagel in hand. It was colder that day, with a patchwork of clouds obscuring the brilliant cerulean of the midday sky. I retraced my steps down the rough gravel path, finding myself at the same mossy bench I met Sebastian at the prior week.
Polishing off the rest of my coffee, I took my bagel out of the bag, holding a sizable chunk of it outstretched in my palm. I waited there for a moment, praying nobody was around to see how ridiculous I looked. Just as I began to think about how stupid this was, I heard the leathery flap of winds, and in a flash of obsidian, Sebastian had gently perched himself on my wrist, pecking idly at the bagel resting on my palm.
I was in awe, trying my best not to move too suddenly or risk scaring him off. I knew this was the same bird as the previous visit as I began to admire him more closely. He gripped my arm tightly, but with a gentleness that betrayed how sharp and powerful his talons were. His feathers gleamed with a purple iridescence, cloaking him in an otherworldly beauty. As I turned to examine his face more closely, I noticed a sliver of pink tissue on his face. A scar the shape of a crescent, underlining his eye.
I was enamored.
Once more I returned home, and once more sleep overtook me, lapping at my ankles like the tide before consuming me completely. When I awoke I found another treasure sitting at my window sill. A cheap aluminum button with the words “I VOTED” inscribed across the face.
And so it became routine. Each weekend, rain or shine, I would grab a coffee and some form of bread product before heading down to the park to see my friend. After about a month of trial and error, I found that Sebastian wasn’t a picky eater, but his favorite food by far was that of a sesame bagel, toasted. Each night after I visited, I would leave my window open, finding a shining treasure on it come morning.
That all changed last night.
Generally, I reserve my visits for the weekends or holidays, as my job often has me working late into the evening and I would prefer not to wander around town at night, given it’s not exactly the safest area. I broke my own rule after a particularly disastrous day of work. My client was a nightmare, my boss screamed at me for formatting a document wrong, and worst of all I shattered one of my favorite mugs falling down the stairs.
Point is, I needed a break from it all, so I went to the park. The amber glow of the fading sun stretched over the horizon. When I found myself at my usual spot, I noticed how eerie it felt to be here in the dim light of the evening. The setting sun was thrown against the trees, casting long shadows that weaved into a blanket of twilight.
I ignored the creeping shadows as I plucked a small package of crackers out of my bag. I held one outward, waving it toward the dark canopy that stretched out overhead, like the deepest recesses of an ocean, no light broke through. I held it there, and waited. Seconds stretched on into minutes. Tears began to well up behind my eyes as I sat there, holding my arm up to the sky until I could bear the weight no longer.
Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.
By the time I collected myself, the sun had been plucked from the horizon, leaving nothing but a starless sky in its wake. And so I left, walking back to my apartment under the cover of night, dejected, embarrassed, and frustrated. I hurried through the long stretches of darkness, punctured by the sparse streetlights, casting a beacon of fluorescent yellow onto the pavement below. I was barely paying attention to my surroundings, drowning under the weight of the day’s burden.
But even still, I heard it. A second set of footsteps echoed along the empty street, heavy and uneven. I turned around but saw nothing. I hurried along with a quickened pace, the sounds became faster, louder, and more uneven. They were right behind me now. I turned and saw it. A silhouette cut across the streetlight, tall and thin, wearing a long coat that obscured the body.
The figure shifted, reaching an arm down to its hip. I saw a flash of exposed wrist. The flesh was greasy and shiny, gleaming with an iridescence that reminded me of a puddle of oil on a rainy day. Whatever it was made of, it definitely wasn’t skin. It drew something outwards, brandishing it without ceremony. I caught glimpses of it shining in the darkness, it was a gun.
Wordlessly, the figure lifted it, pointing it at my head with calculated precision. This must have been a robbery or something, I thought to myself. My hands shot up in reflex, opened palms turned outwards. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a choked rattle that sounded more like a frightened bird than a human.
I tried to speak once more but before the words had even been formed in my mouth, a bolt of darkness cut across the streetlight, grazing the figure and sending them staggering backwards. They clutched their arm as a dark liquid dripped from the open wound. Then I heard it, the caw of a crow, piercing the night.
Once more, like a stroke of black ink across a stark white canvas, then another, and another. Each blow was accompanied by the telltale cry of a crow. First tens, now hundreds of them were swarming around the figure until the light itself was obscured under a torrent of frenzied birds.
A shot cried out, like a flash of lighting in a storm, then two more. The meager light was effortlessly drowned out in the sea of obsidian wings. Three shots in total, then silence.
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me to my apartment. Right as I was about to round the corner, mere yards away from safety, I looked back.
I wish I didn’t.
I’ve seen nature documentaries before, I’m no stranger to how ferocious birds can be. Even still, nothing could have prepared me for seeing flesh being picked from the bone. I can say with confidence now that the figure was not human. I was lucky that I could only make out brief flashes of oily carrion being torn from its still living owner through the sparse rifts in the torrent of crows.
The shrill cries of crows mingling with the tearing of flesh and inhuman screams of pain echoed through my head well after I collapsed behind the door of my apartment. I clutched my chest, trying to steady my breath. All the thoughts swarming in my head fought over one another until nothing filled my mind but background noise. It was then that I found myself in my bed.
No sleep found me that night. I glanced forward out the window, staring at the pale moon overhead, bearing down at me. Often I would see a shadow flicker across its surface, eclipsing the meager light with dark wings.
I laid there until well in the morning, the sun’s harsh light burned me out of my stupor. Finally, I forced myself to stand up to prepare for the day. I silently pushed through my routine, trying to shake off whatever happened last night.
That’s when I saw it.
Sitting on the windowsill, was another gift from Sebastian. Three gleaming brass bullet casings.
They were still warm.