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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Eye to eye with a great big crow.

Submitted: August 07, 2016

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Submitted: August 07, 2016




You sit there across from me and give me an appraising look from that cold, cruel eye. It's not going to get to me. I'm just going to stare right back.

You're not unnerved at all though, are you? You move closer with your strange gait to stop pretty near to me. I'll not deny that you are making me uncomfortable. But I will fight against my impulse to put a bit more distance between us.

You turn your head from side to side, inspecting me first with your left eye then with your right. I know you want to give me a good view of that beak of yours. Don't bother! I know what it looks like, what it can do. I am well aware that it is made for ripping and devouring.

But I am not dead yet. I could beat you off. Your eyes, your beak, and those knife-like talons are not enough of a threat to drive me away. It is almost like we are playing 'chicken' -- a human and a crow. Who is going to concede defeat and be the first to go?

Cawing now, are you? Is that a ploy to try and scare me or are you summoning back-up, calling for reinforcements. That rasping sound so many dread -- I've heard it so many times before and, you know, I'm not quaking in my shoes. You have not terrified me with it if that was your intent.

And still you approach. You are maybe 18 inches away from me now. If I kicked out my leg I would make contact. I guess you are telling me that you are not scared either.

We've reached a sort of stalemate. Neither of us is going to give ground, to give the other the satisfaction of the win. We stare steadily into each others eyes and I think we come to an agreement.

As if on cue you flap your wings and I clap my hands. We move away together. No winner, no loser, just an impasse brought to a conclusion.

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