The Crows

Her mother had been dead a month now

This was her third visit to the grave

She had noticed the crows on her first visit

Sat at the grave four rows in front of her mum

They were back again today

There was something ugly about crows, she thought

Like death was their home

She wondered why they only sat at that grave

Was there more than usual today

Maybe she was just imagining things

It made her uncomfortable though

She noticed more crows flying in

It was like they were waiting for something

Suddenly they began to claw at the grave

As if they were trying to get to the body

The clawing intensified into a frenzy

She could feel the noise pierce right through her

Then everything stopped

One by one, the crows disappeared into the grave

She sat petrified, unable to move

Like she was in some horror film

She waited for the crows to reappear

They didn't

A strange light caught her attention

She could feel herself walking towards the grave

Looking inside to what looked like a crypt

The stairs beckoned her in

Slowly she entered.

His father had been dead a month now

This was his third visit to the grave

He had noticed the crows on his first visit

He wondered why they only sat at that grave.