A MURDER OF CROWS
(an exerpt)
by
Henry Snider
To Be Published in 2010?s
“FEAROLOGY 2: BEWARE ALL ANIMALS GREAT AND SMALL“
by the Library of Horror Press
August winds pushed through the procession of oak trees lining state Highway 217. This year’s heat wave struck the nation from coast to coast. Even the leaves had taken on a tinge of brown during the summer’s drought. A murder of crows watched the intruder shift a rucksack from one shoulder to the other.
Karen Ellefson stared back at her avian audience. They were the first sign of life seen in the two hours since her last ride, “Davis, the Hormonal,” parted ways back at the intersection.
“Let me tell you about Davis,” she said, grateful for anything to interact with along this dusty stretch of backwoods country. “He picked me up in Detroit day before yesterday thinking I’d trade being a mattress for a ride.” A flick of her wrist released the last cheese twist from its bag. A crow flew down and retrieved the prize, scarfing it down before a kinsman had the chance to steal it for themself.
“Tarnation,” she looked at the agitation caused from a single snack. “Guess this drought has made everything hard to come by, huh?” Nothing moved, even the bugs were scarce.
She stopped, suddenly feeling foolish for talking to her ebony onlookers. The sharp contrast of an ongoing sunburn scorched her skin, edges of the red burn told of shirts longer than her current, “Miss Kitty, Take 2″ tank top. Absentmindedly, both hands reached up to cover the sunburnt flesh. Contact from her palms sent a biting cramp down both arms.
“Christ . . . sun must be getting to me.” A clear blue sky ensured that, before the day was over, temperatures would easily exceed a hundred degrees. Tears of sweat ran down her brow, body salt stinging both eyes. Karen wiped her forehead with the back of one hand, coming away streaked with mud. “That’s just great.”
“C-caw.”
A crow, significantly larger than the rest, drifted to her side of the road and perched itself on a low-lying branch about twenty feet ahead. It eyed her for a second, then set about the task of cleaning the feathers under one wing.
“Oh, you want to hear more?”
The crow didn’t respond, but a second glided into her field of vision, joining the first.
She looked around, expecting someone to suddenly pop out and catch this crazy redhead talking to birds. Only woods and pastureland across the empty highway met her gaze. A rumble reverberated behind her, rolling throughout the countryside. An over-the-shoulder glance offered forth a mountainous thunderhead bearing down on her part of the county.
“Guess the dry spell’s finally over, huh?”
The two birds chattered as if in agreement.
“Anyway,” Karen continued, resigning herself to the fact that the forthcoming torrent was unavoidable, “Davis treats me okay for the first night, not really wanting anything more than a poke and a tickle.”
Three more birds settled in as she passed under the branch. The largest shifted its position, continuing to watch her.
—————– end of exerpt —————–
For the rest of “A Murder of Crows” and other nightmarish plant tales, purchase “FEAROLOGY 2: BEWARE ALL ANIMALS GREAT AND SMALL” by the Library of Horror Press. Available on Amazon later in 2011.
