"Murdered By Crows" by A M Bacon

Murdered By Crows

by A M Bacon

He felt a tugging. 

  A pinch and pull from his right leg. He wanted to kick, but he couldn’t.

  Another from his hand. Another tug, the pain was intense, as he felt the agony of his battered body. The tugging continued from all over his legs and torso. He could barely feel it, but it was a pinching and pulling that was there.

Face down, his body felt like he’d been used like a rag doll by a Rottweiler. 

  He wanted badly just to get up and swat at what or whoever was pinching him. To lash out, and slap the irritating instigator.

  He opened his eyes. Well, he tried. He could feel that they were crusted and swollen.

  What hit me? He thought. He pulled his arm up to his face, causing excruciating pain. But he managed to reach up, causing him to scream. Well, groan out loud. 

  This motion set off a massive amount of fluttering like sheets in a tornado. Screechings of surprise coming from the 

  Extending the three fingers he could feel, touching his face, groaning as he did so.

The kaws as he moved let him know he was not alone. Crows? He thought. He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t move. He felt one leg getting tugged on, but he couldn’t feel the other.

  He felt a heavy weight on his back. He didn’t know if his back was broken, or if he was pinned by something.

  “Dammit, Larry! You said it was dead!” One voice screamed near his head.

  “Duh, I thought it was, George!” Came the reply.

  Pressure against his face below him, he could feel sticks or something that were pushed into and against his face. The three fingers he could feel touched his face, exploring any and all damage. He felt his mouth; it was crusty with something dry. Likely blood or mud. 

  But he didn’t know which.

  Next, he walked the fingers painfully up his face. His mouth was at a strange angle. He moaned in dread as he figured he was in a very bad way. Continuing to probe up to his eyes, feeling the puffiness around them, feeling them slightly slick with his tears of pain, so he worked some of the tears into the crust that had his face sealed. 

  He finally worked the tears into the crust to the point he could open his eyes, 

  Looking back at him, just feet away, were a dozen crows that were strutting back and forth. Confused that the carcass was alive, as if not sure that they should stick around and wait for the inevitable, or fly away with what they had already fed on.

  He tried to think about where he was. What he had been doing. How he wound up here as a feast for the carrion birds.

  The crows approached with caution, picking at the rips and tears in his body. He tried to scream at them, but only managed a low moan.

  “Shit! It IS alive!” He heard. He didn’t quite know where it was coming from.

  All of the crows started jumping around, flapping their wings.

  The kawing and screeching of panic.

  “EW! That’s gross! I don’t eat anything LIVING! Someone! Anyone! Who has seen a puddle? Where can I get the taste out of my mouth?”

“Well, this is just fucking peachy!” One croaked out. “Now, we have a problem. It’s alive, AND it’s likely heard us speaking!”

  Rolling his eyes, he moaned again. Still not remembering anything as he watched the crazy scene unfolding. 

  The twelve kept flapping their wings, arguing amongst themselves,

  “What the hell, Frank? We can’t eat it while it’s alive!”

  “What do you want me to do, Mabel? Kill it?” This crow threw its wings up as a person would throw their arms.

  “Well, someone should so we can eat. Or maybe we should just go sit up on the tree branches and wait for it to die?”

  A smaller ebony avian spoke up.  “Mom, I’m hungry!”

  “I know, but dinner isn’t ready yet.” Mabel replied.

  “How much longer? I’m STARVING!” Another younger crow was eyeing him up hungrily.

  “Why don’t we eat living things, Dad? You would figure the fresher, the better.” If this crow could lick its beak, it probably would. 

  A few of the other crows crept up closer.

  “Is it dead now?” He heard another crow say. “It didn’t taste bad when I tasted it.” Creeping closer, the crow side-eyed him. “I bet you he’s dead and we just saw reflexes!”

  A pathetic movement of his hand, but movement nonetheless, and the birds all jumped like an audience of a horror movie with jump-scares.

  “Run! It’s ALIVE!”  

  “Let’s get out of here! It’s going to kill us!”

  “Mom? I’m scared!” One of the smaller birds cuddled up closer to one of the larger ones.

  “It’s okay, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The crow raised its wing, pulling the smaller one close.

  “That thing damn near gave me a heart attack!”

  “I haven’t seen one look this bad and live in such a long time!”

   “Well la-de-freaking-da, Larry. It didn’t. So, any other bright ideas rattling around in the echo chamber between your eyes?”

  The crows started to bicker amongst themselves.

  “Well, we can’t just leave it here and not be here for its demise. We all need to eat.”

  “It’s not dead yet!” One howled, flying off in a panic.

  They all jumped in fear at the outburst as the human moaned again in pain.

  One crow walked away from the group, mumbling about missed opportunities and road kill rules.

   “I know what to do!” Said one of the strutting crows declared. It looked directly at him and just said. “We smother it!”

  And they all closed in around his head. “Great idea!”, “How long will it take?”, “There’s hope for you yet, Frank.”

  Darkness swallowed him whole.