The Blood of a Sparrow

Since the beginning of time, there has been a balance between life and death. Everything that starts must come to an end in one way or another. Everything can bend and break with enough pressure. For Sparrow, it all started with cheap rock music and a fork in the road. It was a late Friday afternoon. Autumn leaves were at their peak at this time of year. Radiantly decaying as God made them to be. Colorful and strange, but damned all the same. Sparrow drove along the country road in his small blue pickup truck, which he inherited from his old man before he made a name for himself. By becoming a lumberjack, that is, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all. As of now, he was hauling a fine-looking pine tree that was strapped to the bed of the truck. All he had to do was drop it off at Mindy's place and call it a night. It was one of the easier jobs that he'd done this week and nothing could stop him from getting the tree to her so he could go home and watch whatever was good on cable. Perhaps he could catch The Andy Griffith Show or I Love Lucy if he was fast enough with this order.

Sparrow scratched his dark scruffy mess of a beard as he made his way through the peaceful countryside. A lot can happen out in the country at this time. Most people avoid traveling this way for some reason, which means that the man wouldn't have to worry about heavy traffic. A quaint little restaurant in Cointose was just around the corner. With the tree over at Mindy's, they would be able to set it up after Thanksgiving to get some more customers in during the holidays. How someone could get lost here amazed him, but he did his best to keep his eyes on the road for any trouble. Breaking his concentration when one of his favorite songs comes on the radio. Allowing his big fingers to drum along to the beat and sing along to it like he would if it came up at a bar or restaurant. Even if the band itself was labeled overrated to most of his age, he still thought it was a good listen. Currently, Sparrow drove ten miles over the speed limit and passed by a few signs on the way. Some of them he should have checked twice before he made those turns.

One of the signs in particular was different from the other street signs. It was triangular and fully dressed with black duct tape. On the tape there was something spray painted there it read; "They're watching you." in red lettering. The handiwork made it look like it was some punk teenager's doing in an attempt to make themselves edgy. Sparrow paid no attention to the warning and went on with his trip. Then, after a minute or so, he saw a dead-end sign up ahead and slowed down. Snapping out of his tune, he realized that he didn't recognize anything. The surrounding woods were ominous, and a fog settled upon the darkened land. From the looks of it, he must've made a wrong turn somewhere.

One of the things the lumberjack dreaded was to stop and ask for directions. He groaned at the thought of it, but he knew it had to be done. No one was close enough to where he was, so he decided to make a U-turn. What he failed to notice was that there was a rusted steak fork lying on the edge of the road. So he went to make the turn. The tire caught the instrument and lodged itself in the tire. A pop of sorts came from the tire and it made Sparrow break. and looked back to see what happened. Seeing the handle sticking out the side of his back tire, he was surprised and a bit irritated at the fact he managed to run over a steak fork of all things. 

"Awh shoot!" The man cursed.

After glancing at what the fork did he pulled the truck into park and shut off the engine. By then he could already feel the tire sinking in on itself. The man cursed his luck while climbing out of the truck to see the damage up close. There he saw the thing lodged in there pretty good. The tire hissed out at him in agony, if it was alive it would probably be screaming at him to get it out. Never in his 35 years has he seen a fork of all things be the reason for all that damage. He should've been paying more attention to his surroundings. Above him, the sky was darkening by the minute beneath all of the thick shrubbery that was left. A storm was brewing and the last thing he needed was to get himself and the customer's soon-to-be Christmas tree wet. Before he did anything he grabbed some tarp to cover the bed of his truck to keep the tree as dry as it can be. It was hard for him to believe that it would rain but seeing thunderous clouds gather to darken the sky proved him otherwise. Once the tarp was secure he heard something. The lumberjack looked over at the dead-end sign and saw a small crow perched there. Watching his every move with an empty look in its eyes.