Gone in the Morning

Chapter 2: The Crows

The inside of the house wasn't much better than the outside. What made my parents choose this place? Was it the floors that creaked when you stepped on them? Maybe it was how all the sinks in the house ran slow. Maybe it could have been how cold it was inside. Perhaps it was the view of the dying cornfield in front of us. I had no idea.

When you walk straight into the house, not so far ahead is the kitchen. The downstairs consisted of a small living room, round and pretty spacious. One bedroom upstairs and one downstairs. The one upstairs was going to be my room according to my father.

The rest of the house was messy and sad, but my room was pretty nice. I mean, it was big and spacious. The ceiling was low, but I loved how the sun shined on the wooden floor and wall, making my room look like an old attic. I couldn't wait to get my desk set up. There was something about the atmosphere of this room that made it aspiring to write and draw, which I loved doing.

There was a knock at the door, even though it was open. It was the second U-haul along with the workers' dad had hired with the rails to my bed. "Where do you want this, kid?" One guy asked.

Kid. Was that really necessary?

I pointed to the space in the corner away from the window. While they put my mattress down, I looked out the window. From above, I was able to see beyond the cornfield. Weird enough, behind the tall corn stalks there were trees that kind of drifted off into a whole new part of the area. I was even able to see a few houses miles away and another dirt road.

"What made you folks want to move out here?" One of the workers set down pieces to my desk.

I crossed my arms. "The city was getting too expensive for my parents."

He rubbed his stub of a beard. "I see. I wouldn't say here is the right place."

I nodded my head. "Heh, I agree. This place is a home for rodents."

"No not that," he said quickly. "You're living in Lilith Lambert's old home. Did you hear the story yet, kid?"

I wished he would stop calling me kid. Before I could tell him no, Kane walked in holding his belt like he was auditioning for some cowboy entrance scene. He chuckled, frowning at the room. "Make sure you get this stuff up today, Dante. Today. I don't want a mess lingering around the house."

I watched as he let his hands fall to his side then walk out. The U-haul men followed behind. I was about to ask the man to continue the story, but I didn't think it mattered much.

***

Since I didn't have much stuff, putting everything together was easy. Kane didn't like for people to help him, so he put up everything himself. Chairs, dressers, mirrors, pictures, almost everything was up and put away. While my mom finished off in the kitchen, I sat in my room and stared out of the window.

It was pitch black outside and somewhere in the distance I heard crows actually cawing. Sitting at my desk, I drew a circle in the middle of my paper and began planning out my outline for a short story I called Shivers. So far, I had planned that he was a hog with no eyes, evil, and wanted to eat humans. Planning a horror story was easy, ending it was hard. I didn't want to bore anyone with the first chapter, so I had to introduce something interesting. No one liked a dull start.

As I was in the middle of making Travis my main character and sending him and his brother out to the woods, the crows outside my window went from cawing to squawking really loud. More than one. More than two. More than ten squawking crows. The sound made me feel deeply uncomfortable, for I was not a fan of loud noises. It made me panic inside.

Lifting my window, I stuck my head out into the cold air and looked at the cornfield. I couldn't see anything, so I grabbed my flashlight. The beam of light showed me a few stalks of corn, swaying with the wind. I tried to locate the crows, but I couldn't. They sounded real close too. After a minute, a crow flew into the beam of the light. I smiled at how it stared at me, cawing along with its friends.

"What's wrong, little guy?" I whispered. "Someone hunting you."

As if the little bird understood me, it nodded its head up then down very slowly about two times. I shot away for a second then squinched my eyes at it. "What's hunting you?" I asked, feeling a bit crazy and uneasy.

Still cawing, the crow lifted his right wing and started waving it out. I slowly moved to the beam away from the bird, following the direction it pointed in. I expected to see something. The fact that anything could have walked out, crouched down, or just stand there somewhere in the stalks frightened me. I liked that. I liked having that sense of fear inside. It helped me explain how my characters felt in a story of mine. I pointed the beam back at the crow, but he flew away, cawing as it went.

I turned off the flashlight and closed the window. It was late, and I was tired from the long day and drive. My bed wasn't put together because one of the rails were bent. Mom told me we would buy a new one this week before getting me registered for school. I laid on the mattress after turning off the lights. It was pitch dark. For a horror writer, I was afraid of the dark. Still, I got more ideas in the dark. It was a chance to let my mind wander. However, I didn't know whether the cries I heard sometime in the late night coming from outside were from a dream or just me being paranoid.