Prologue
284 Words
Prologue
CrowsThere are crows for as far as an eye can see, perched upon every high branch, they jostle and preen, discarded black feathers twirl lazily groundward, their guttural calls echo around the clearing. Some have taken to the air, riding the thermals in easy circles, their large black wings held wide, ragged wing tips spread like fingers gently caressing the air that holds them aloft.
In the centre of the clearing stands Velha son of Velhan, naked and smeared with the blood of the sheep he has just ritually slaughtered. He is talking in tongues, a skill he had learnt from his long dead father, a skill passed down the generations by fathers to sons. Perched upon the sheep’s carcass, a bead of entrail hanging from his jet black beak, stands the largest of all the crows, his beady eye alert to any nearby dangers.
Velha’s chant grows faster and faster and louder and louder until all the words merge into one long wail, and then in a sudden moment of complete unity, silence falls upon the clearing. Not a sound can be heard. Slowly the breeze begins to rustle in the trees and the cicadas start to chirp, the howl of a lone wolf calls from far away as if sending a message for the crows to resume their cacophony of chatter. Velha holds his arms aloft and one by one the crows take to the skies until the sky darkens as the mass swoops and swirls. The large black crow gulps down the hanging entrail and then he too spreads his massive wings and lumbers skyward.
The spell has been cast. What has been done can no longer be undone.
It begins.
- Writer
