Feathers

6. A Message

The crow was standing close enough that he should have been able to feel it's breath on the back of his neck. He always thought that if he was thrust into a life and death situation he would be heroic. But now, faced with an immediate and terrifying threat to his wellbeing, all Michael could do was freeze, as if by staying as still as possible, not even breathing, that the thing might not see him, might just leave him alone.

Michael held his breath and pushed himself as hard as he could into the sink in front of him. He could feel the cold porcelain digging into his belly. But still the light touch of feathers played on the back of his legs.

He could no longer hear any of the usual hubbub from the bar area through the door. Moments earlier he'd been able to hear the background noise of people laughing, pool balls clinking, a drunk man yelling outside, music playing through the crackly old sound system. Now all he could hear was his own breath as he failed to hold it in any longer and gulped in a lungful of air.

He looked behind him in the mirror, past the black shape that was standing almost as still as him, watching. All three of the stall doors behind him were open, no one was at the urinal, he was alone.

And then a harsh scraping noise pierced the silence. Micheal watched in horror as thin pen scratch grooves appeared in the mirror in front of him. It looked like they were being carved into the glass by an invisible instrument. The sound was excruciating. The invisible hand moved quickly and the words were scratched out in a few seconds as Michael watched, frozen in horror:

THE GIRL IS MINE

Michael's eyes were starting to blur and his heart pumping blood through his veins so loudly that it drowned out the sound of his breathing. The eerie silence in the bathroom seemed to be getting louder as well, as if the whole world had been sealed in a fishbowl and pushed deep into the ocean, where the pressure was threatening to crack the glass and drown everyone. The weight of the world was pushing against the room, against Michal's head. He had to get out of there. He had to find Kobie to make sure she was safe.

Finally, Michael counted to three in his head. Trying not to think about what he was doing. Not looking behind him, trying not to think about anything apart from where his body needed to move, he took one big step left, the farthest his legs could stretch, opened the door with one hand and leapt back out into the pub.

As he swung open the door the world came unpaused. The green neon sign over the beer fridge flickered across the polished concrete bar, the tradies at the pool table were insulting each other, the warm fuzz of the electronic music playing through the sound system was drowned out by the football-watching men, now sitting together at the same table and animatedly discussing the game. Kobie waved at him from their booth.

Michael turned and looked back through the frosted glass window inset in the toilet door. There was no dark shape in the bathroom anymore. It was empty.