Crow Night

It was supposed to be a great sunset. The golden sky held promise. I climbed up the twelve flights of stairs and perched precariously upon the ledge gazing west.

A solid mass of clouds hid the horizon and I waited till the sun disappeared. Towards east, the moon had risen and hung above the grey haze that marked the city at dusk. The eastern sky was still blue. And it was changing its color before me. Every blink of my eyes made the sky darker, and the moon brighter.

The sun had now officially set.

With a chorus of many cries, thousands upon thousands of crows took to the air. They kept emerging from the vast sea of leaves under me till the sky was darkened by their wings and the air stirred by their cries. Caw. Caw. Caw. Their cries were jubilant, a victorious army’s march into the vanquished city. They weren’t going anywhere though, as far as my eye could see east, they circled the air. They were going to make it night.