June 8, 2013

As Dark as the Feathers on a Crow

The city was quiet this autumn night as the inhabitants of the city slept peacefully in their beds. A woman dreamt of love, a man dreamt of money, and a child dreamt of exciting adventure. The darkness was silent, but the minds were lit brighter than exploding fireworks. 
   Sitting on top of an old apartment building was an old man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He sat back in a lawn chair and gazed up at the sky, where only the moon could be faintly seen through the thin clouds. The old man took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out a puff of white smoke, and then watched it rise and disappear into the air. 
   "If only everyone could be this quiet during the day," the man said to himself. "I might actually enjoy going for a walk to the park."
   The old man sighed and put the cigarette back in his mouth. He liked coming out late at night to watch the sky, even though there weren't any dancing stars to entertain him. It was just him and the moon, an old friend he's known ever since he could remember. 
   A crow flew down from the sky and landed on the stone railing. It stared at the old man with it's soulless, black eyes and cawed loudly. The man glared at the bird and growled, "Stupid, noisy birds." He puffed out another cloud of white smoke. "What do you want? Shoo, go away. Let me enjoy my peace and quiet."
   The crow ignored the man's request and instead walked along the railing, bobbing its head as it walked. The old man watched as the bird made its way along the railing, and huffed in annoyance. He never did like the black birds. He remembered back when he lived in the country side, when they used to infiltrate his garden and eat the corn which he worked so hard to grow. They would fly in large groups and land on the power lines, staring down on him as he walked along the dirt road, and they were always present at the funerals he attended. 
   A car roared down the street below, pulling the man out of his trance. He yawned loudly and ran his hand through what little grey hair he had on his head. "I'm going to bed," he muttered irritably. 
   The crow, still standing on the railing, watched with dark eyes as the man put out his cigarette, grabbed his cane, and limped into the building. When the door shut, the bird cawed loudly and spread its wings. As it shot into the sky, you could see the glint of red in its soulless eye. It joined a flock of crows that were flying over the building, momentarily blocking the what little light illuminated from the moon.
   The city was quiet this autumn night as everyone slept peacefully in their beds, with their heads full of dreams. All except one man, who's dreams were shrouded in darkness as dark as the feather on a crow. 


David T. Macknet said...

Very well written, Syd. Glad to see you post here again!

tanita davis said...

Wow - this could go either way, to be a springboard for a longer spooky tale, or a contemplative type. You've got a gift for writing a complete narrative in a short piece - looks really great - you've got a very atmospheric piece!

Anonymous said...

Your style is very unique compared to other people I've read stuff from. Many thanks for posting when you've got the opportunity,
Guess I will just bookmark this blog.

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