| page 2 of "The Watcher" by Lisa Colver |
| in the distance. It was a flock of ducks. Ducks rarely flew throught the skies above Marcus's town. He marveled at their distinct sounds and orderly formation. Off in the distance near the rising sun the flock of crows appeared once more. As Marcus glanced at the tiny black dots in the distance, suddenly a horrible sound pierced through the air. It was not the sound of crows or ducks or even Davians. It was the sound of a gun. One of the ducks in the flock overhead made a cry unlike Marcus had ever heard before. It was a squeal that screamed of unfathomable horror. Marcus was not sure if it was his own screaming or the duck's he heard louder, as it turned somersaults in the air and plummeted to the unyielding earth. Marcus sprinted over to aid the creature as it lay dying. A wave of fury swept over Marcus as he heard the shots continuing. Ducks fell to the ground like pouring rain. Two stocky hunters stepped out of the field they were hiding in and began to collect the fallen ducks into a dusty potato sack. Before Marcus could confront the two killers, another sound pierced the air. The crows had arrived for their morning breakfast. Marcus turned his attention away from the landing crows, looked at the two hunters and screamed, "You murderers! You've slaughtered an entire flock of innocent ducks!" One of the hunters gave Marcus a condescending look and said, "It's hunting season." The crows on the ground looked curiously at the three arguing humans and could tell something was awry. Suddenly a shot rang through the air. The second hunter was firing at the crows! Shiny black feathers flew through the air as the flock jumped up and attempted to leave the ground in a hectic frenzy. Crow after crow fell to his demise by the sting of the deadly weapon's bullets. Marcus ran over to the hunter and made a frantic attempt to dislodge the rifle from the killer's arms. In the struggle, the hard wooden handle of the gun struck Marcus sharply in the head. As Marcus fell to the ground his eyes glanced over to see the crow flock leader Jelone on the ground as well. Jelone's eyes no longer shone of mystery and ancient wisdom. The only message the luminous eyes conveyed was that of untimely death. As the world around Marcus slipped into blackness, he stared into those dark eyes, wondering what secrets would die along with Jelone. When Marcus woke up it was significantly later in the day. The sun was high in the sky, and Marcus glanced at his pocket watch to see that it was indeed past noon. As he sat up he felt an intense throbbing pain in his head. Glancing around at the scene of horror that surrounded him, Marcus gasped in utter shock and disbelief. What surrounded Marcus at first seemed like a hallucination, a bad dream that couldn't possibly be true. He began to cry out lamentations as he noticed the dead bodies of his closest friends of the crow flock scattered in the field around him. By what he saw, he judged only a few had escaped. As he mournfully looked at the field he spotted another blood stained area in the distance. Trudging through the tall grassy field, Marcus went toward the red stained niche. What he saw made him turn around in disgust and horror. The bodies of the two hunters lay dead in the field. Marcus gasped and wondered if he may have killed the two men in his rage. Was he knocked out so roughly that he forgot the whole incident? Did he kill them and lose the memory? Was he a murderer? Subsequent thoughts of horrible possibilities raced through his head. He went through his memories of what had happened over and over again. He didn't remember killing them, but still the mangled bodies of the two hunters laid sprawled across the field at his feet. Their blank stares spoke of unmentionable horror. Marcus carefully looked at the two bodies for any clue that would help him to remember what had happened. Suddenly, he saw part of a black feather protruding out from under one of the hunters. Marcus pulled on the feather to see if another one of his crow friends had been killed and was under the body of the hunter. He wrested an enormous black feather out from under the hunter's battered remains. The magnificent glistening feather was adorned with a tip of sparkling gold. Marcus let out a maniacal laugh as he looked to the clouds and saw the enormous unearthly figures of a flock of birds flying towards the highest reaches of the sky. |
| copyright 2002 |
| Lisa Colver's website |
| The End |