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It's a crisp morning with a stormy sky. Caitlin is bundled against the chill and sitting on the porch-swing sipping her coffee watching the people pass on the street, following their morning routines.

Several crows call out to tell eachother of the handful of food she's tossed to them, but one arrives, ignores the food and crow chatter and flaps down onto the porch steps, before he falls over dead.

She frowns and sets the mug of coffee down, not taking her eyes off the bird. She crosses the short distance over to the crow and touches it warily, eyeing the state of the corpse which looks dry and long dead, mummified as if by the dry cold weather. There are holes in its wings and she's very careful not to look through them as she nudges at the body.

She pulls her hand back as something in the stomach moves. Pushing up through the feathers and the skin, the skeleton of the bird emerges at twice it's previous size and reforms from the mess.


It caws silently, without vocal cords to make noise, but she hears the message loud and clear.

"Yes. I understand."

It's going to be a long day.. and an even longer night.


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Caitlin Hunt

July 2016

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