dark omens

It was a sunny day. The birds had been chirping rather cheerfully in the morning. It was unusually windy, but not too windy, not too chilly. Just the right mixture of wind and sun. The air tasted fresh, and smelled of roses and honeysuckle. The cottage stood tall and proud, its red brick walls gleaming happily under the glow of the sun. Inside, a kettle whistled. Steam made its way out the open windows. A woman sat on a chair in the kitchen, a smile on her weary face. In front of her was a letter. Inside her, her heart leapt with joy. Her husband was coming back soon. He had been gone for far too long. They let him visit occasionally but this time, it was done. He was coming back home for good. She placed a motherly hand on her stomach. She could not wait to tell him the good news. She imagined the joy on his face, how he would hug her, and lift her, and twirl her all around. The kettle whistled. She groaned as she got up. There were pains in her feet these days. She took the water out and poured herself a cup of tea.

A caw. She turned around and saw a crow, black as the night, glistening black under the sun outside staring inside, head cocked to one side. It seemed to be looking at her stomach. She shivered. She wasn’t a superstitious person but she had heard the stories from her mother who had heard them from her mother before her. “Shoo”. The crow turned its head to the other side and opened its mouth. Its caw sounded like laughter to her. “Shoo”, she said angrily. Louder. It opened its mouth as if yawning. She looked down and found that both hands were on her stomach as if protecting it from the gaze of the crow.

She went to the closet where the broom lay and came back in the kitchen. The crow was on the windowsill no longer. She looked around and smiled. Ill omens no more. Caw. She looked up and perched on one of the wings of the fan was the little devil. Looking at her with gleaming eyes, head cocked infuriatingly to one side. She walked over slowly to where the switch was, not wanting to scare it off before. And she flicked it. With an indignant caw, the crow took flight as the wings began to spin. Caw, caw, caw. Angry. Complaining. Annoying. She started trying to swat it with the broom. A loud smack and it hit the wall. She did not notice the specks of red that it left there. The crow made a sound, almost as if it were laughing with glee. A few feathers fell off it. She waved the broom in the air. Darn. She had almost had it. It had hit the table and missed the crow. She did not notice the specks of crimson, shining, ripples forming as the fan grew faster.