The Crow

Contributor: Amin Hosseinioun

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Her blanket slipped down as she raised herself from the bed. He was outside again; sitting on a branch on the old oak; staring at her through the window. He was the Crow. She cried out and covered her nakedness. They stared at each other for several minutes. "What of it" she thought, "it is only a crow". Throwing off her blankets she walked from the room naked, under the crow's fixed gaze which she felt even through the walls. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural.

In the classroom, words on the blackboard were out of focus. She could feel his eyes roaming over her body. Glancing outside she screamed in surprise: he was there again, sitting in an oak tree, staring at her.

From that day on, things grew more different by day. Now she walked with her hair around her neck and her high heels giving her a sexier shape. Finally on a day like any other, as she was removing her blouse to take her shower, she saw him again, his face covering an entire wall, his eyes as big as her head. She backed away, her hands faltering as they reached for the door.

For a while she resisted, finally she shed her blouse with shaking hands, naked legs propelling her under the dashing warmth of falling water, and the crow observing her fingers as they worked her neck and chest.

Without drying herself she made her way to her room, head lowered. He was waiting in the window frame. Opening the window, she knelt down and shut her eyes and kissed his beak. Bones in her fingers stood out, her lips were merging into his black beak. As she pulled back, her lips stretched out. She struck at him in fright, but her arms now were covered with feathers, spreading into wings. Soon she perched in the window frame, a small crow.

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I am a published writer in Farsi, in Iran, I have published two gothic novellas and many essays on literature and other narrative forms. you can read my other publication here:
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