Rainbow Crows Novels & Stories

Finches added their high-pitched trills, while blackbirds, with their distinctive calls, added depth and richness to the composition. With each note that filled the air, the birds seemed to dance, their wings fluttering in rhythm as they soared and glided through the sky. Their feathers, a kaleidoscope of colors, created a stunning display against the backdrop of the azure heavens. The iridescent blues of blue jays, the fiery oranges of orioles, and the vibrant yellows of canaries intertwined, forming a living tapestry of vibrant hues.

I could have mistaken it for any other crow, but it looked the same as the one in my dream. “Oh, these crows again.” Ana shook her head in annoyance and turned to me, “Can you please excuse me for a minute, miss? I would be right back.” “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.” I said with a smile and she dashed away to get someone to help get rid of the crows. There were like a group of crows swarming the area now, that was why Ana was concerned. Crows were the symbolic animal of Wilfair and they represented a different kinds of omens. Crows in groups meant bad luck.

Dozens of them hung from the branches on both sides of the road, tied by their feet with thin silver thread. Their black wings turned slowly in the rain. Like ornaments. Like warnings. At the center of the road, painted in blood across the asphalt, was the same crown-and-claw symbol. Damien stopped the truck. The engine idled. The trees leaned close. Then every dead crow opened its eyes.

Beyond the glass, balanced on the ledge with the casual arrogance of something that knew it could not be touched, was a crow. Not the kind of crow that scavenged kitchen scraps or fought with sparrows over fallen bread. This one was too large, too still, its feathers so black they seemed to have swallowed a hole in the afternoon light. Its head was cocked, one eye fixed on the room with an attention that felt personal. The eye was purple. It was not a trick of the light. Purple, like something that had no business sitting in the skull of a bird. "That's not a normal crow," Naya said.

Zoran and Naelis immediately followed her gaze, their primordial instincts on high alert. Perched on a low branch was a large, jet black crow. Its eyes weren't the usual bead-like birds' eyes, they were cold, obsidian voids that seemed to be absorbing in everything they were saying. The bird sat perfectly still, its head tilted in a way that looked disturbingly human. The moment it realized it had been spotted, the crow let out a harsh, mocking caw. It spread its wings and took flight, disappearing into the dark canopy of the surrounding forest before Zoran could even think of shifting.

The river behind her rose, full of teeth and wedding music. Ava held the paper rooster like she could not believe this was her life. "If that thing crows," she said, "I am retiring." The rooster opened one paper eye. "Please don't antagonize our emergency chicken," I choked. Then dawn tore through the river. It crowed once, a sound so bright it cut the river-dark. Dawn flashed across the dock. Every Below-Prayer hand recoiled. The bride screamed, loosening her sleeve. "Name!" I shouted.

The trio started walking to the middle of the bridge. “Why is it called the rainbow river?” Ruby asked curiously, not giving the thought of the bridge being what the name implied, a chance. “It has all colours of the rainbow in a straight, never ending pattern.” Rose answered with pride dancing around her face. “Wow, really? All colours of the... Rainbow...” The word hung in her mouth as she saw the truth in what Rose had said. She was stunned by the wonder below her. The water below her was red, Orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, they flowed calmly without falling over each other.

Her arms loaded down with bags that she had refused to let Annie carry. With a sigh, Annie sat down, her hands coming to her lower back as she tried to soothe the tense muscles. The sound of a bird’s wing flapping in the quiet night air pulled her attention away from her aching muscles as she studied the large black crow. Its blue black wings settled into place. She had always loved the colors that crows seemed to have. It landed on one of the streetlights that lit the sidewalks. She couldn’t help but notice that it was much larger than most crows she had seen.

The elk took up flanking positions around us and ran along side the dogs who seemed keep to chase the elk instead of continuing to the lakes. “Hike! Leave them boys. Hike!” More large black wolves started to pour down the slopes. As they did I began to see a flock of crows in the moon light wing low to the ground. The battle crows formed a mass and drove their beaks into the on coming wave of wolves, eliciting yips and yowls as the wolves turned away. As the sled began to cross the land bridge large gray and red wolves lines the edge of the bridge, closing off the path behind us, allowing none to follow us.

“Yup.” And indeed not many days later I am back on the bench by the lake. Could there really be a wormhole here? Winter is past its peak, and temperatures have become much more bearable. This time I take more time to travel exactly to a point where I want to be. Several attempts failed, I couldn't get the right images of it. Apparently it doesn't work if those moments have little meaning for me. I didn't plan to travel to such a heavily loaded moment, but it's the easiest way. Hopefully I'll get the chance to do something else there too. The rainbow colours are already coming. The Past