There once lived a policeman who stayed in an old abandoned office in the countryside. The policeman was bored of staying in a boring office so he went out side and as loud as he could, he shouted ” I QUIT! ” As he strolled of a bunch of crows started to fly towards him, pushing him back in his office. The crows just stood on an electric cable and then even more crows came on the same cable. The policeman slowly opened the door and ran out but the crows flew off the cable and pushed him in again. It was starting to get cloudy and the policeman decided to call his friend to help him out but then the crows suddenly got electrocuted from the electrical cable when he rang the phone so the policeman was FREE!
It happened last week. My best friend Daniel and I witnessed something no human should every go through, it was unutterable. This is how it goes:
We were promenading along the stony soiled path when we saw a black figure parched on the electric cables. Suddenly it flew away. What was it? Where was it going?
We began to follow blindly, it was like we had been hypnotised. It took us to a russet-brown door. The door had a message written in blood red it said, “warning!” Without hesitation, Danny threw his arms out and slammed opened the door. At first we thought it was nothing,when in the corner of my eye, I saw a glimpse of a shiny lever. I bolted over to the lever and pulled the leaver. It was silent. There was a sudden breeze and it tickled my face. Suddenly dark clouds came and rain splattered everywhere. Winds began to howl and lighting went bang. The wind stirred our hair and screamed like a boiling kettle. Thunder rumbled ominously and crashed and howled over head. An immense guillotine blade of lightning streaked across the horizon and illuminated it with a stark blue whiteness. My ears were ripping and my patience was slowly but surely running out. It was as if the heavens were being torn apart by the jagged spears of lighting- the wind howling their pain.
I gradually made my way to the lever and pulled it…everything stopped. Everything. I was as giddy as a school girl for being alive but I won’t forget the time I was nearly killed.
Yesterday I was strolling along the desolate, stone path with wires dangling lifelessly on precariously balanced, decrepit pylons that had rusted so much, they looked more like wood. On the wires were huge flocks of blackbirds that were gathering rapidly by the hundred! Greyish-black clouds rolled across the once empty sky. Thunder rumbled ominously and crashed overhead. A guillotine blade of lightning streaked across the horizon and illuminated it with a stark blue whiteness. My ears were throbbing and the sky was being torn to a million pieces, the wind howling its pain. The plant life bending as if it were begging for mercy.
After what seemed years, the storm finally cleared off and went to make my trepidations someone else’s. I sauntered, traumatised, back to my cosy little bungalow, here, in the middle of nowhere, yes, but a lot better than the city. I was exhausted, I had really had enough. Back in my home, in the shower, torrents of hot water washed away my tiredness, replacing it with fresh energy. Sitting on the luxurious sofa with a toasty warm cup of tea and a sapid biscuit, writing my diary, I couldn’t feel happier.
Everyday, those night-
black crows fly around in circles as if they’re very dizzy. Their feathery wings move and flap like a wavy rollercoaster track going up then down then up then down. They are shadows in the light and camouflaged in the darkness.
They sing like wind and fly like planes. They could stand in your garden that’s smaller then grassy plains. Caa Caa! they shout, Caa Caa
Black silhouettes lining the sky you see in the modern world are nothing but birds. Crows (and blackbirds), nothing more than that. Birds die every minute, leaving for bird heaven up, up in the sky, where they fly. Birds die on: Electric wires, cars ramming into them, being hunted by animals and being shot down in midair. Birds are sometimes considered as pests, but, they are actually signs of nature.
Birds, birds, birds,
I just don’t think there are enough words
To describe their beautiful nature
That has never been a failure.
With feathers and wings,
They can do wonderful things.
So many types there are,
Most come from far;
Once a year,
So that they are not late.
Regal are the eagles,
Squawking are the seagulls,
Shiny are the ravens,
And they look for safer havens,
Imagine them in a tux.
Birds, they always make me happy,
Even on days when I am feeling scrappy.
There they were, the proud-looking ravens with their black shiny feathers glistening in the morning sun. Their wings were stretched out, gliding in the frosty air. Fog was around, causing an ominous look around the dull graveyard. The ravens were like black arrowheads shooting through the sky. The sun behind the clouds was shining less today, with an unhappy look etched on his face.
They were leaving the graveyard as they saw me edging closer and closer to sketch them in my notebook. My notebook was a guardian for my thoughts, keeping them safe from any other human eye. I could feel the sense of disappointment in my mind as I walked away; that was the first time they feared me.
Then I saw something amid the gravestones. It was like an old man, but it was not…
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