Murder of Crows [ One-Shot ]

* ~ Murder of Crows ~ *

Strange, it is so strange. Strange, that my mind can’t stretch beyond the limits of logic. It is so weird that I can’t fathom the depths of why and how it happened. Some people will call me crazy, insane or anything that means of an unsound mind, but believe me when I tell you that I came across the path of the perfect murderer.

            It was a sunny summer of May, 20--. My colleagues and I went out for a trip to the mountains to spend our vacation. We usually don’t do this, but this might be the last time we could.

            After the bus brought us to the nearest small town here, we started our own mini Calvary. We are now hiking up the rocky slope of the mountain with Mr. Seasons, our old professor to his villa at the top.

            “Cage,” said Seal, my tall, buff and cool friend, “What do you want to do at the villa when we get there?”

            “Sleep,” I sleepily answered.

            “Hey, want to go trekking?” asked Ada, our tomboyish, short haired friend.

            “He’s not interested, Ada,” said Work, the class clown, “You know him. He’s not really in to outdoor activities.”

            I am Cage. They know me as the serious and cold-blooded student of the class. In reality, I’m just a thinker, searching for truths and knowledge to satisfy my curiosity. They just misinterpret my silence to anti-social behavior.

            “Want to play a game, Cage?” asked Work, “To ease your boredom.”

            “What kind of game?” I asked.

            “Something in your line?” he answered with a shrug, “Thinking game I think.”

At the back of the line, we heard a slap. It was Gaia, our beautiful class muse and her boyfriend Parsons.

            “That doesn’t sound good,” said Ada.

            “Seems interesting,” said Work.

            “What did I do?” asked Parsons, holding his slapped face.

            “You infidel,” muttered Gaia, showing him his phone, “Who is this girl texting you?”

            “She’s my friend, sweetheart, I swear.”

            He tried to take his phone back but she eluded it away.

            “I am so fed up with your lies, Parsons. I don’t want to be with you at the villa when we get there.”

            “But–”

            “No more buts,” she said, giving him his phone, “Give me some space.”

            After their scene, Parsons went forward to us. Work, who is the most approachable among us, entertained him.

            “So what gives?” asked Work.

            “I think she is going to dump me sooner or later,” answered Parsons, massaging his slapped face.

            “Well, that’s life. No one will stay beside you forever.”

            “If only you did not keep the text of that girl, whoever she is to you,” I said, “she shouldn’t have seen it then. Next time, if I were you, I’ll keep my secrets hidden very well.”