Of All Things I Became A Crow Novels & Stories

Just the crow, sitting exactly where it had been, black and still on top of my wrecked car, and I could have sworn on everything I had ever known that it was staring directly at me. Not in the direction of me. At me. Intently. As if it was trying to read me. “I do not care what kind of game this is,” I called out, my voice hard despite the pain splitting through my skull. “Come out now or you will regret what will happen when I find—“ “Oh.” The voice cut me off. “You are a violent one, I see.” And the shocking realization slammed. It came from the crow. Not from behind the crow. Not from the direction of the crow. From its beak. Which had opened and closed around the words the way a beak sho

"Did you ever come close to introducing yourself to me. In all those years." Catalina looked down at her teacup. "Once. The afternoon Iris died. You sat on a bench outside the hospital. You were sixteen. You did not cry. You sat and you stared at the parking lot for two hours. I sat across the parking lot in a car and I had my hand on the door handle for an hour and twenty minutes. I could not make myself open it." "Why." "Because I had promised. And because I was afraid that the version of you I had imagined for sixteen years would not survive meeting the actual woman you were going to be. I have thought about that afternoon every day since."

Two days ago she had been someone else entirely, and now she wasn’t sure she recognized the person she had become. Damien listened without interrupting, his face open in a way that surprised her. When she finished, he said the first kill always did that. It changed how you saw yourself and the world around you, stripped away illusions you didn’t even realize you had. He said it got easier over time, though easier didn’t mean better. It just meant different.

I stood before she could say anything, the floor cold beneath my bare feet. “Now,” I continued, voice shaking but unbroken, “I’m choosing to become the monster who didn’t give anyone a chance.” I met her gaze fully then. “So I can be their chance.” The silence that followed felt alive. Heavy. Dangerous. Mae sucked in a breath. Rowan’s head snapped toward me, eyes sharp—but he said nothing. The Ancient One studied me for a long time. Not my face—my bones. My scars. The place where fear had once lived and been replaced by something harder.

As her fingers closed over the metal, a voice echoed—deep, resonant, unmistakable: “Bearer of the hidden crown… you have chosen well. But the world outside has not yet seen your strength.” Aera’s chest tightened. She understood. The crown had accepted her—but the war had only just begun.

Seeing it lifted the gloom from me. Jonathan bought it, saying pets heal the heart; when I felt down, I should hold it and let it warm me. Of course, if it warmed me, I must care for it properly—plump it up, keep its fur glossy. So I bought cat food, a bed, cans of pâté—an entire haul. On the way home, the sky opened. A gray stray cowered under an awning, soaking wet. The shopkeeper kicked it away, and the cat slunk out into the downpour to seek shelter. I thought of myself—an orphan, drifting, always without a home, always looked down on.

It was beautiful, and a bit sad, how easily things were lost to time. The crow cocked its head and I cupped a few Craisins, daring it to draw closer. Bold, it hopped over, defiantly plucking the food from my hand. I reached out and stroked its blue-black wing. It jolted back, hopped into the air and flew away through the darkness.

Not very intimidating, I suppose, but it’ll work for now. It appears my timing was off by a stretch. “EWWWWWWW- what the hell?” I screech, beating off the heavy thing that just plopped onto my chest. I took too long thinking about what to do. “Bitch, do you want to die?” I look before me and no ones’ there. I slowly turn my head towards the ground, realizing the thing I just whacked was an irritated looking- “-... crow.”

No one was! My crows finally come in my vision, circling around above. My lips turn into a nasty smile as their eyes turn red. "Go." I whispered, snapping my head back to the clearing. They let out a caw as they flew towards the clearing. I chant louder as I walk forward. As soon as the crows near the clearing, they began to drop dead one after the other. Furious and beyond enraged, I chant louder, cursing the damn witch who continues to mock me even in death.

"No 'what-ifs'. Fate has it that you belong to me. Even if you weren't standing in for another at the altar, I'd still reclaim you." I could not help but laugh. That was just so like him. Off in the distance, the sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the meadow, edging everything in a gilded light. Those who had wounded me were then just decaying memories in the muck. As for me? I was standing on cloud nine. That was all I needed. Life was but a stage, after all. Given a lousy script, I'd rip it to shreds and pen my own finale.