Of the aura, the mystery, the myth that embodies the likeness of the black feathered creature, I know not. Of its keen beak, of its persistence, of its analytical rationalization, of its discontented greed, I assuredly know. As comical as this might be, I have become a sufferer, a victim, to its sharpened beak, to its unforgiving perseverance, to its subtle way of reasoning, and to its never ebbing greed.

It was a bleak December day, when the radiant snow sheltered all things in perception. Ah, how radiant was the region, how bitter the atmosphere, and how enraged my mind, due to complications between my beloved, Camila, and I.

Of our troubles and complications I would rather not discuss, but I will state this. There is no two souls so alike, so similar than Camila and I. These similarities, this likeliness, I cherish but despise. Let me elaborate more on this hatred before I commence with the story of the white eyed crow. The hatred I speak of is this; Camila, which I adore with all my possessions, with all my soul, is so much like myself that the likeliness is intensely unnatural and distressing. It is like being with a soul that has been replicated from my own bosom. In her somber brown orbs I behold myself, my imperfections, my calamity, and let I not disremember my demons. This is the reason for my repulsion, the repulsion for myself, the animosity for my beloved Camila. But, assuredly, my passion for the angel subdues the hatred, the disdain that dwells within my heart.

It was our argument, the effect of an insignificant, an inane motive, which sets forth the remaining of my story. As our tones became more brusque, more maddened, I hastily began gathering my black, full length, wool coat, hat, gloves, wooden pipe and departed our residence. I proceeded for several minutes, packing my tobacco into my pipe and inhaling, without regarding the bitter, the resplendent scenery. It was after my third puff of the tobacco where I upraised my head and beheld the region. Ah, how blinding, how tranquil, how soothing, how desolate, how bitter was the region. Let I quickly decipher the bitterness, the beauty, the desolation of the region. Two prior days to the day I speak of, the heavens cried for several days, and due to our regions bitter climate, the tears quickly transformed into heaven’s white gold.

As it fell, it was rain, but falling it became, heaven’s gold. Quickly it sheltered all things in perception. It snugly overlaid the slumbering lilies, the earth, the timber, and the shivering boulders. It froze, and being frozen it was, a blanket of blinding white, of blinding purity. How the region slumbered and glimmered of gold as the feeble sun reflected and departed into one thousand and one directions. Nothing was in perception, nothing at all, just the humming of the wind and the pulse of my soul, just the pulse of my soul, the humming of the wind, and nothing more.

For several minutes I strolled, until I came upon a grand timber, which stood at an uncommon stretch of twenty or thirty feet. No leaves adorned the lank timber as it swayed to and fro. How desolate did it seem without its verdant summer cloak and without its entranced spring nature. I gave no fascination to the trivial details and was about to depart to my revered relaxation locale, a cliff which over looked the Atlantic Ocean, when my ears were snared by flattering of feathers. I upraised my befuddled head and beheld a single crow.

“Quack” it said, as it joyfully and fiendishly flattered its wings to and fro.

“What is your business in this region, you mockery to all other feathered creatures.” I replied.

“Quack” it said, as it joyful rambled upon the branch.

“Quack” it said as it hurdled from branch to branch.

“Quack” it said, as it jubilantly and sinisterly flattered its wings, six feet aloft my head, on the second branch.

It was at this trice, when the fiend stood six feet above my head, where I perceived the inexplicable characteristic of its left eye. From what I could behold, the fiend was undiluted ebony, utter darkness, except, yes except, for the orbicular ivory feathers which encircled its left eye. I have never seen, to this day or prior to that day, in my dreams or phantasms or in substance, a crow as that. And there it stood, a crow, the crow, the white eyed crow–and by appearing, it distended– and by being stagnant, it putrefied– and by quacking it distressed, my mind, the splendor of the region, and the bitterness of the climate. The fiend stood, and standing it was still, and being still, it followed.

“Be gone you mockery, be gone of this region, you delude the splendor and intensify the bitterness of the region, be gone!” I replied as I burrowed into the snow, for a reasonable portioned rock.

“Quack” it said as I snatched the rock.

“Be gone you fiend, be gone! You delude the splendor and intensify the bitterness of the region, be gone!” I retorted, as I flung the stone towards the crow.

“Quack” it said, as it leap on to the third branch. I proceeded again.

“Quack“ it said as it leaped onto the fourth branch. I proceeded again.

“Quaaaaaa” it said as the stone demoralized it. It sluggishly and gradually fell onto the snow, and I, with much satisfaction and accomplishment, departed for the cliff. It was after five silent minutes of strolling where the fiend appeared again. I gave it no regard as it landed ten feet athwart me. I changed my route and proceeded, to be sincere, I did not want to impair the bird any further, as I beheld it limping to and fro. But as we all know, of its persistence, it followed and again it unnerved my brain.

“Be gone you mockery, have you not had enough, be gone?”, I stated, as I picked up another stone and flung it to the crow. It quickly unrestricted its ebony wings and flew away. At last I thought, the fiend departed, I can now proceed to the cliff and enjoy the splendor of the seascape. Ahh, but how imprecise was I, what a imbecile was I, to contemplate that such a beast as it, with its persistence, with its greed, depart so soon.

I had just arrived at the cliff and had lit my pipe at the edge, very edge, a single step from descending, and had began to behold the splendor, the purity of the region, when, without any premonition, with out a sound of a feather, with out its agitating “quack”, its sharp beak pierced my skull. The collision and the fright caused me to take a single step forward and down the cliff I went, down the cliff I went! It was by, and only by, a mere miracle where I grasped the shrubbery, which were present below, five or six feet, from the ledge.

But it was not finished, the fiend, with its demonic persistence, was not finished. It delicately set down upon my head and began picking at my skull, lobs, and cheek. I cursed the damn fiend, for several minutes, for it to depart, but the fiend did not, it kept its picking, and it kept picking at my skull, my lobs and my cheek. I could no longer bear the torment, the agony, so, I, without giving it much thought, let go of my right hand to grasp or apprehend the little fiend. But I could not, the fiend, that little fined began to pick at my left hand, it kept picking and with picking came blood, and with blood came its never ebbing hunger. So I proceeded on the only idea that was present in my terrified mind, and that was to let go. I knew the span from the ledge to the shore was about fifty or sixty feet, and I, fallaciously thought that I would land securely and apprehend the fiend.

Releasing is the only action I recollect of the incident and nothing more. My beloved found me, by following the trial of my foot steps, several hours later.

The little fiend!

The little devil!

Had half devoured my lobes, had devoured my two fingers, on each hand, to the bone– perforated my cheek, skull in several places-and worst of all, snatched one of my eyes. It has been seven days since the incident, and I still have not come to my normal being. Due to my disabilities, I can no longer stroll proudly through the streets of your town. My beloved has taken over my duties and I have taken hers.

To be honest and sincere, I, we, I will elaborate on the meaning of “we”, are terrified of the little fiend and its demonic capabilities. Before I state what I am about to explain, let I, again, bring in mind the unnatural similarities between my beloved and I. As you keep that notion in mind, let me proceed.

Two days after my attack, my beloved also became a sufferer, a victim, of the white eyed fiend. We have not, in full detail, discussed her attack, but I have questioned her on her first encounter with the fiend.

“When was it that you first perceived the fiend,” I questioned.

“It was perched upon an uncommon timber, on its top branch, and it swayed to and fro, ‘Quack’ it uttered as it joyfully and fiendishly flattered its wings to and fro.” She replied.

“And what proceeded.” I questioned.

“What is your business in this region, you mockery to all other feathered creatures.” I replied.

That was my concluding inquiry on the topic. Can you now see the abnormal likeliness I speak of? She voiced the same phrase; She beheld with the same eye as I did. From this and the uncommon likeliness between us, I have concluded that Camila had tormented the fiend in the same manner as I had. And the result of this, is our grotesque aspect.

My beloved and I are utterly terrified of the fiend, and have not come to a conclusion on why it persisted and persists to this day on maddening our brain. Yes! I have stated correctly, to this day the fiend, in darkness of night, appears upon our porch and peers.

Ahh, but let I not conclude there, yes, as absurd as this might appear, there is more to our misery.

As I have stated, the fiend perches it self upon our porch and peers. It was last night, where my beloved and I, witnessed the demon within the crow. As usual, the fiend perched upon our porch and peered, motionless, if I may add, for several hours.

On the second hour of its presence, it quacked once, it quacked twice, and on its third “Quack”, the “Quack” became more human like. The “quack” became a laugh, a fiendish laugh. As it laughed, its ebony wings became arms, its short, keen, claws, became legs, and its triangular head became demon’s head.

It spoke these words, “What is your business in this region, you mockery to all other beings?” and joyfully departed.