“CROWS FEET! Look at them!” I ignored the loaded sentence that held only wrong answers. She knew damn well she looked fine.
I was standing in the patio, observing actual crows in the garden. The smartest birds on the planet, all death black feathers offset by the gun metal beak. What was the collective name again? A murder of crows? Pretty cool by all accounts. The murder were hopping around on the grass, pecking each other, stopping sporadically to cock their heads, observing all around them in stop motion.
I heard what sounded like a pebble hitting the paving stones outside. I peered out, my face pressed against the glass. There were dozens of shattered snails on the paving, and two crows were pecking at the soft insides, shaking off the shells. How clever!
My wife came through, still trying to attach one of her earrings. Peeling away from the window, I tried to avoid saying it but couldn’t, noticing her crows feet were much more prominent. “You look great!”
“You’re just saying that..”
Five minutes of reassurance later she raised the issue of the windscreen. “Get it fixed! It’s not safe to drive.” With a peck on the cheek, she left to meet a friend.
I was reluctant to pay two hundred pounds for a small crack. I turned to look at the crows, momentarily angry. One of them had hit my windscreen on the drive home, rolling off on to the side of the road, flapping, as I’d watched in the wing mirror.
Eager for fresh air, I unlocked the frosted patio door and sat on the steps, enjoying the calm, as sparrows and finches fluttered in the hedges, while the murder loitered, staring at me.
From behind the shed, a crow with a broken wing hopped awkwardly, reaching the middle of the garden, then continuing, hopped straight towards me. How strange! It kept coming. On the approach I could see its beak was broken in the middle, barely hanging on. It stopped two feet away and looked me straight in the eye.
Smash!
What happened? I’d blacked out. Still on the patio steps, I felt an agonising pain. My face felt as if it had been hit by a truck, and I couldn’t move my right arm. Barely able to open my eyes I squinted, and put my good hand up to feel my face. Blood was pouring out of my nose and mouth. I could taste it, as my tongue found a new gap in my teeth. I clutched my arm, grimmacing at the shooting pains.
On the lawn before me, the crow was dead. How clever.
LionAroundWriting 
Damn. That ending! I really enjoyed reading this.
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Thank you, really appreciate your feedback 🙂👍
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How… clever 😉
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Thank you 🙂
Cheers for dropping by.
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Hi, please have a look at my blog ! If you like it then do follow!
https://themidnightweaver.wordpress.com/2018/09/02/annie/
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My my! That’s some clever crow. I am sure I am going to be more careful now, when they are hovering above my head. Thanks for giving me a new fear! 😛
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Oh yeah watch out for them, very clever 🙂😲
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Clever idea for a story! Like it!
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Thank you kindly 🙂
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Birds make excellent literary characters because they are extremely smart but also jealous, defiant, and definitely hold a grudge. Take this from someone who’s owned birds for years. Your portrayal is accurate. 🙂
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Haha much appreciated insight.
I liked the idea of a seemingly innocuous event of injuring a bird coming back to haunt someone…and their wife 👍
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very unique piece of thinking..
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That’s the aim 🙂
Thank you for visiting.
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Ouch… is this a tit for tat from those clever crows maybe?… is the wife involved or just collateral? So many questions … and I do love it.
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You got it in a oner 😉
Thanks for your thoughts on it.
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Did the crow fly into him……..?
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Kinda open to interpretation
But I was going for a kinda of supernatural idea, one look able to cause the damage that had happened to it.
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Nice ok I see that! I wasn’t sure if I was missing something but i got it now haha
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Cheers for reading anyway 🙂 it’s nice to hear how a story is interpeted.
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Love the reference to the crows’ feet at the beginning. A creepy, cleverly crafted tale.
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Thanks for noticing that bit.
Much appreciated maga 🙂
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A pleasure, Fionn.
Please call me Mags. 🙂
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I forgot lol. Mags 😉
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No worries, Fionn. 🙂
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‘while the murder loitered, staring at me’ Really love this sentence, out of context, I mean. Lovely post, and the scene with the snails was greatly vivid! Looking forward to more!
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Great feedback, thanking you 🙂
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No worries ^^
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I love crow stuff. An exceptional piece. Loved it.
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Thanks Anita 🙂
I’ll get back to Brigitte part 2 2moro Sunday is becoming my reading day 👍
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Ok, nice.
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Great piece. I easn’t sure where you were going with it.
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Thanks man, always appreciate your input.
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Just found this. Love crows, love this. I wrote a story (called The Great Question, which is a bit of a rubbish title) about a young jackdaw that got hit by a van – it’s nothing like this but made both my partner and her mum cry, which is an achievement of sorts.
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Thanks once more, and if you can create that sort of emotion thats when you know you have something special ☺
On a side note I thought I had retired this story as I am trying to get it published.
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It came up as related reading for East Wing
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Yeah, I meant to take it down, will do it later.
If you have the link to your story paste it in.
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https://unauthoredtext.wordpress.com/2016/07/09/the-great-question/
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This is brilliant!
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Thanks! Glad you liked it 🙂
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This is a “clever” story. I love the word play with the crow’s feet. It would be a good one to submit somewhere.
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Thank you, I like it more now than I did at the time I finished it. I might think about a submission 🙂
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Oh wow! This is an extraordinary piece. Really liked it!!!
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Thank you! 🙂
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Nice work.
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Thanks Don.
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Sorry, that comment was meant to be from me, not anonymous.
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I really liked this. It made me think and somehow reminded me of something by Alan Garner.
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I quickly google alan garner!
Thanks for dropping by and reading 🙂
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oh yes! VERY CLEVER INDEED!
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Thanking you kindly for reading! I love a comment 🙂
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