Not really a Thanksgiving quote
Nov. 25th, 2010 01:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janradderSo I have this irrational fear/superstition about crows.
I've always felt like they are somehow ominous portents of doom and I've always chased them from our yard and trees when I see them because of this. The one time I decided to get over this and just leave the damn things alone was a couple weeks ago. The result? My dad wound up in the hospital with an irregular heartbeat at the beginning of the week and I ended it by having PTSD flashbacks of being bullied in school (real stomach-churning, tremor-inducing flashbacks). Okay, so maybe it wasn't the crows that caused it, but the fact that those things happened has done nothing to assuage my feelings about them.
Now today I went over to our friends' house to take care of their cats. In the trees, on the yards, and overhead were about thirty crows -- cawing, circling, hopping, and generally looking like that last scene in The Birds where they walk out to the car. Not good. But when I came back outside, there was something far worse. All the crows were gone, save one: a dead crow, its neck twisted unnaturally to the side, laying right next to the front steps of my friends' house. Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
I've always felt like they are somehow ominous portents of doom and I've always chased them from our yard and trees when I see them because of this. The one time I decided to get over this and just leave the damn things alone was a couple weeks ago. The result? My dad wound up in the hospital with an irregular heartbeat at the beginning of the week and I ended it by having PTSD flashbacks of being bullied in school (real stomach-churning, tremor-inducing flashbacks). Okay, so maybe it wasn't the crows that caused it, but the fact that those things happened has done nothing to assuage my feelings about them.
Now today I went over to our friends' house to take care of their cats. In the trees, on the yards, and overhead were about thirty crows -- cawing, circling, hopping, and generally looking like that last scene in The Birds where they walk out to the car. Not good. But when I came back outside, there was something far worse. All the crows were gone, save one: a dead crow, its neck twisted unnaturally to the side, laying right next to the front steps of my friends' house. Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
