Sunday, 13 March 2016

Crow stories

With a flick of a wing feather, the raven threw the daylight up. He threw the all of it; the tightknit, rolled up, scrunched ball that it was; threw the dayglow knot of it up and into the darkling sky.


Slowly, greasily, bit by bit, the darkness thinned out, split and spread away into nothingness - till only the white of the light and the blue of the sky remained.