You wake up, open the window, and take a look outside while taking in a big gulp of the fresh morning air. You see a bunch of crows over there, on your neighbour's roof. But have you ever thought about their significance? I mean birds are important in cultures, religion, politics (symbolism), science, cuisine (I mean who doesn't love chicken?), geography, and even the military. Now what I'm asking here is nothing uncommon. You may have heard of The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock, which is based on unsettling events. But why crows? Crows have exceptionally incredible memory. We thought dolphins and monkeys were the #1 most intelligent animals. We were damn wrong. Where did I find out about this? Why, on channel 9, on that Nature programming. I can't remember the exact episode but there is one particular episode you should see. It is called "A Murder of Crows". You can also find out about them from the news. So how is this all related? Crow's are magnificent creatures, like Elephants, and should be treated as such. Or would you prefer facing retaliation?

I remember a time when I used to play with birds. Laugh with them. I yearned to fly just so I could be with them. But there are several misdeeds that I did against them that I regret to this day. For example, there was a white geese that seemed to have been adopted by a flock of Canada geese (this was when I was young by the way). I shot at it with a water gun. It fled and it has never returned since this day. I found this peculiar, as it would always visit the apartment complex where I live. So I decided to study birds to find out why this occurred. The more closer I got to them, the more peculiar they became. At first it was just harmless internet research. I remember bookmarking all the articles about birds. I had sticky notes on my walls. Color photos and pictures of birds decorating my closet.

But then I decided to get up close and personal. I remember when I went to this national park and all the birds were friendly and showed no fear. One was a blue jay. It allowed me to get close to it. Heck, it even flew into my car. I encountered another one near the parking area. Didn't show any sign of fear. But it was when I drove into that forest that the encounters grew extraordinary unusual. I found a good spot from which I could get a lot of good footage. I went there, sat at the stone bench, and there it was, that very same bird had come to me. But at the same time, I heard this voice. It was mocking me. It was malicious. It was coming from high up in the tree tops. I had experienced this very same phenomenon (only it was multiple voices intertwined in a deadly chorus) from a murder of crows resting on a tree near the garage roof. What did I do? I retaliated. The following days, I found them everywhere I went, hearing that dreaded noise and a garble of whistles and chirps whenever I was out in the open outdoors. I have since locked myself up in my room, shut the windows, even the door, never having tasted fresh air for what may be decades. I'm sorry, I don't even keep track of time. I can't remember the bloody settings for my computer.

You may have noticed something amiss when I referred to The Birds. It's actually based on a story that was inspired by observation and imagination. If you didn't see the lie I presented then, how did you feel? Was it unsettling? By all means, don't hold back. You must tell me!

This is not madness you see before you. This is not an obsession gone wild. You must tell them how you feel, your darkest innermost desires. You cannot hide it from them. They know. They know what you do day and night. They follow you believe it or not. But whatever you do, you must not retaliate, you must not show any sign of hostility or hatred in their presence. They are preparing, even arranging the so-called accidents and unexplainable deaths and disappearance that befall man. They know their purpose. They are not thieves. They are not inept. They are a society bent on man's suffering and sorrow. I should not be saying this, but I'm safe right? They can't get in here. This is a fortified structure. How can they break through?


I admit, they broke my mind that night. When they rode upon clouds of indiscernible color and looked at me with those pitchblack eyes. I was mesmerized. I may have snapped. They snatched from me, they escaped, and what not. Everything was gone in a flash. Only this room. Yes, this room is my only safehaven. It is dark as night and soft as my mattress and my fluffy white blankets (I have no need for these blankets to keep me warm). The blinds may be a little dark blue (they were once luminescent bright blue), but that's what happens when you use the contrast of human blood pigments as your inspiration. After all, I did it for them. I killed many to secure my security. I retaliated. They embraced me in return, in their red feathers. They came for me and I welcomed them. I joined them.

One thing is certain. You must never retaliate, even if it means allowing them to swallow you into their abysmal doom. Your rebirth is guaranteed if you surrender. You were once a killer, who brought down societies with deceit and delivered a quick strike to mansions and injected poisons into the minds of your people and what not. Basically, an evil minded fool. Now you are a greater killer, a predator who has mastery over the skies and what not. You have only one goal. To eradicate the presence of inferiors and lowlifes and what not. And you have them, all of them, at your side, supporting you wherever you go. They who tore your flesh to pieces with their many [brethren] and their trimmed beaks and feasted on your bones. They are now your allies.

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