The morning was dark as the night before. It’s becoming the norm around the city. It’s as if nature knows what is looming in the sky and it does not want to see it. All night, the same sounds repeat in order: the sound of wings nearby, a loud scream and then the last noise always differs. Could be the sound of a car crash, a thud on the floor or the screams of those around them. I never knew how loud a body hitting the ground whilst running was until this started happening. I never feared taking a breath more than I do now.

I do not know if these omens have a hitlist or they simply decide on what feels right at the time. Either way, people rarely leave their house nowadays. Afraid to see the possibility of the shadow of the omen overhead. Because once the omen has arrived, there is no turning back.

The omen is the pet of death. Its beak points them to their target like a missile, their call is painful to the ears of their victims. In shapes of Crows. Crows don’t often remind me of Siren songs, but they carry the message of misery to all they cover in their shadows.

It’s like a foreshadowing memorial song. A reminder to all that until you hear the call of your omen telling you to give your soul some peace, you should live in the beautiful moments of time when you have the ability to.