By D. Lamb
There he is.
The blue crow perched like God overlooking creation. His talons dig into the branch. His face is regal, terrifying; his head crowned with red and orange leaves.
I crawl toward the window. I want to scream and hide, but I must close the curtains before he sees me. Before he gets me.
Does he know?
He can’t. Unless he does. He’s always there. Watching. Waiting. His yellow eye sees all, doesn’t it?
It’s okay, I chant inside my head. As long as the all-seeing eye never falls on me.