Out of nowhere came the message of the end.

The North American Crow has always been a noble bird, with it’s pine tar black wings and eyes that clearly know more than you could comprehend. Before the crow went nearly extinct there were many studies showing that they were keen problem and puzzle solvers. Maneuvering switches and levers to provide themselves with little treats, they had proven to science that there is the possibility of complex thought in animals.

Then the bird flu hit. This wasn’t your typical bird flu that makes the price of chicken go up for a few months. This flu had caused a mass extinction of most of our feathered friends across the world. Ever since then, all sightings of avian animals were considered “signs”. These signs come in many forms: new life, prosperity, riches, bad luck, love, and then of course, death. The crow, in my opinion, got the short end of the stick. Once a sign of intelligence, now the bird was considered a bad omen of impending death.

Silly right? How could a bird bring a premonition of an early death? That’s what I thought. I’ve never been a superstitious man and found these new signs to be pure coincidence. That was until my mother called me.

About a year ago, my mother called me in complete hysterics, repeatedly stating that it wasn’t her time to go and that she always wanted to have grandkids. Saying that when she returned home from work there was a crow waiting for her on her doorstep. I tried to calm her, stating that the superstitions around the crows were not based in truth. Because they weren’t based on truth, right? There is no way these birds could be messengers of the end.

Then there was the fire.

The firefighters said that she died peacefully in her sleep from asphyxiation from the smoke. The fire had started on the front porch and it was suspected that the outlet was faulty, causing an electrical fire. I never did forgive myself for not listening to her.

She died alone and without a soul alive who would listen to her concerns. I never gave her any grandkids and I wasn’t there when she needed me the most.

It’s been a year and I am finally feeling at peace with it all. After all, the omen is the final word. There’s no bargaining, no reasoning, just the death that follows. I have read many stories online from others who have experienced the calling to a family member and we have built a support group to deal with our guilt. This was fine, and we are adjusting in the only way we can.

That was until today.

Today, the crow visited me. His soulless eyes staring at me as he sat on the hood of my car when I left 7 Eleven with a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds. We made eye contact and he flew away, no words, no acknowledgment, just a glance. The drive home was the most anxious I have ever been. Expecting a semi truck to blindside me or a blown tire to roll the vehicle. I drove the safest I have ever driven. My driver’s education instructor would’ve been so proud.

Now I sit here, in my bathroom with the lights off and a bottle of my most expensive rum in my hand. Shaking the bottle, I feel that there is little liquid left, I know the time has come. In desperation I have decided to fight the calling of the crow. Taking my final slug of alcohol, I reach for my fathers 1911 pistol. My life is in my hands and I will not let the crow decide how I go.

Placing the pistol in my mouth, I send a message to my support group.

“He comes for us all”