The Crows

Her mother had been dead a month now This was her third visit to the grave She had noticed the crows on her first visit Sat at the grave four rows in front of her mum They were back again today There was something ugly about crows, she thought Like death was their home She wondered why they only sat at that grave Was there more than usual today Maybe she was just imagining things It made her uncomfortable though She noticed more crows flying in It was like they were waiting for something Suddenly they began to claw at the grave As if they were trying to get to the body The clawing intensified into a frenzy She could feel the noise pierce right through her Then everything stopped One by one the crows disappeared into the grave She sat petrified, unable to move Like she was in some horror film She waited for the crows to reappear They didn't A strange light caught her attention She could feel herself walking towards the grave Looking inside to what looked like a crypt The stairs beckoned her in Slowly she entered. His father had been dead a month now This was his third visit to the grave He had noticed the crows on his first visit He wondered why they only sat at that grave.