One For The Blackbird One For The Crow Novels & Stories

said this man who then jumped from a high place. He airs and turns into a crow again. This black crow began to fly towards a palace with dead plants around it.

A little too well-timed to have come from the sky. Grace Marks had said the morning clouds looked like angels hanging their laundry. And by then I was feeling a little like Grace Marks myself, because what woman on this good earth had ever gone madder? The rain was a little like they were marching. Carrying a coffin in a funeral parade. And I didn’t have the thought that it was my coffin until a dark crow landed to preen on the hood of Damon’s car. A good omen. Except a stout magpie landed by its side. Because father used to sing to me: one for sorrow, two for mirth. Three for a funeral, four for a birth. And this perfect pair of life and death opened their beaks in the spots of clear glass

Surprisingly, when he rushed into the bar I had gotten loosened, it broke free. It clattered onto the ground with more noise than I had hoped for. Although, it must have worked since I heard a loud screech just moments before I saw a large black bird fly from the fog, perhaps as large as Desmond was. Shortly after I saw there was a swarm of them following close behind. When they got closer, I saw they were crows, which I had always heard were known to go hand in hand with witches. Or maybe it was ravens, but I couldn’t be sure at the moment. Trying to figure out what it was, wasn’t my concern right now.

My conversation with Jordan plays in my mind. Is this how it feels when all your hopes are crushed? You should've never hoped for something like that, a voice says in my mind, sounding dangerously like my grandma's. I hear a caw, and the same crow I had shushed away flies back and flees in an instant, flapping its black wings, the bit of burger gripped firmly in its beak.

He stood out as he flapped his multi-colored wings around and it shone under the bright light of the sun. The god of fowls and other feathered creatures saw him and he instantly decided to name the crow as king. After hearing the decision of the god, the crow was ecstatic that he flew and flew to show everyone how beautiful he was. Little that he knew, every flapped of his wings, two or three of his unowned feathers were coming off. And he only noticed it when he was back from being black. What he read upset him, so quickly, he turned to the last page of the book. But before he could learn what happened to the crow, the door of his room flew opened. It creaked so loud that it startled him.

In a rush of adrenaline, I grabbed a knife placed on a nearby table, and held it against my stomach. "Come on then!" I threatened. "If anyone takes one step closer, I'll make sure I can't ever give birth!" Tony and the others didn't dare to move, and I glanced at the clock once more. Ten minutes left. Another ten minutes, and I'd win this war of attrition. Winnie was quick to notice the time they had left, and her shouts became frantic. "Get her! She wouldn't dare to actually stab herself! Are you going to take responsibility if Joey's sperm becomes inactive?!"

Elise followed Lucian, entered the den and found him still staring blankly at the miscarriage report. Lucian was silent for a long time before nodding. He put the miscarriage report in a delicate photo frame and then he engraved it with the words "Beloved Pup of Lucian and Alice." He held the box and touched the words on it. "Sorry, I am so sorry." Elise stood aside, her wolf eyes full of disgust and impatience, but when Lucian looked over, she quickly put on a grief-stricken expression, "The pup is so poor."

Something silly. We gathered brushes, colors, and blank canvases, and sat beneath the blooming arbor in the garden. The grass was cool beneath our feet, the sky vast and clear above. Birds chirped, and the scent of fresh earth and lavender swirled in the air. I painted a crown. Not just any crown, but the one I had seen resting upon Zevarion’s head when he was a god. My brushstrokes were clumsy, uneven, but it didn’t matter. There was love in every color, meaning in every line.

I'd just repeated what he told me not long ago when he was about to care for Katelyn. The food arrived, and the waiter quickly retreated when he sensed the tension at our table. I handed Adrian the cutlery and casually remarked, "They've changed the recipe for the buffalo wings at this place. Try them and see if they still taste how they used to." He didn't move, so I fed him a bite. I asked, "How is it?" "Bitter." "How can that be? I think it tastes quite nice." He grabbed my hand. "What I mean is, don't go."

“Not that interesting in all honesty. My ancestor got bitten by a wolf, the wolf was cursed. Hey presto, first shapeshifter.” “Oh… I heard a winged beast cursed some siblings.” “Not ever heard of that,” Christopher grunted as he picked up a larger carved boulder. “Was probably a lie, what stories do you know?” she probed, trying a heavier boulder. “Nothing that interesting, I suppose Daniel the Diabolical is kind of fun, but of course you’ll know about him.” Klara frowned, “No, never heard of him.” “Oh…” Christopher looked confused, “Erm…” his confusion turned to discomfort. “It’s not actually that fun… or interesting.”