The Crow

Art by- Ayush Kumar

His hair had grown long and now rested on his shoulders; his face was still sombre (mostly) but his body now bore scars of struggle.

Presently; he sat upright leaning on the waterlogged wall of the castle's prison that bore a long running crack like a bolt

of lightening behind him.

He was feeling some discomfort with the cuffs around his wrists that were bolted to the ground; it didn't reflect on his face.

He had a feeling that the crow will come; he face was calm.

Inside; he was horrified.

There was one window in the prison that opened towards the world; the crow would come any moment now; sit on the window sill and sing.

He slowly lifted his hanging head and turned towards the window; will he scream, again?

He gritted his teeth and started to stomp on the prison floor. The bolted cuffs had now bled through the one filter of patience that he held with dignity.

It was there; the crow.

Now, gasping for breath he looked at the crow; whose one bloodshot eye was fixed on him.

"No! Don't don't sing...not that song...not that one either;" with each word he pulled at his bolted fist with more and more force.

Once his master; a bard; told him he sang like a crow. In frenzy, he had killed him by plunging a knife through his right eye.

Now all he saw was a crow and its bloodshot eye.

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