‘Wings and Eyes’ by Amelia Bye

They’re going to kill me.

A flourish of feathers tells me that it has landed in front of me. A red eye stares into my soul. It’s
much larger than it should be, according to my mother. Its sharp, curved beach and long, curling
talons are covered in blood. They look like knives from a murder scene, which is what it’s about
to be. They’re going to kill me. Oh crow, oh crow, oh crow. They’re going to kill me.

“Uuuuukiiiiii!” it calls out, all elongated and unnatural and strange. It doesn’t feel like my name at
all anymore. If birds can grin, then that’s what it’s doing.

Don’t trust an animal who can talk, my mother says. That’s good advice, since I wouldn’t ever
trust the crows anyway. She says that people did trust them, when they first started to talk. Big

I don’t see how people did trust them anyway. You can’t trust anyone these days let alone them.
My mother says that, when she was a little girl, crows talking wasn’t natural, but instead they
were trained to say specific words and such. When all the crows started talking they were
amazed. They all wanted to get their hands on one of those special things. On the basis that
they were just birds. Angry. That’s what it made them. Really angry. And that’s why and when
they took over. They all flew into the air and became one and demanded satisfaction.

Nobody really knows what happened. The history books say that the humans – that we – just
submitted. But then again, they also say that for as long as time the crows are the ones who
ruled and the humans were inferior slaves. That we should be happy at the state of our lives
now because they liberated us. And yet, we’re still held at a lower place than them. It’s not true,
though. Because I’m not inferior. I don’t dare say it though. Because if I do then they’ll kill me.
They’re going to kill me.

I suppose that means crows and humans are the same, in a way. It doesn’t matter who rules,
they’re always corrupt. Murderous. Powerful. Hungry.

“Nowhere to run now, Uki.” And it’s right, because when I turn around I see ten, fifty maybe
more crows in front of me all with that same look in their eyes. Murderous. Powerful. Hungry.

Please. I have to live for her. They start to come closer. Please. Beaks gleaming. Please. I don’t
have anything to live for. Please. I don’t want to die. Please. Oh crow, oh crow, oh crow.

They’re going to kill me.