by Lori R. Lopez
Somberly a rook perched on an iron gate. The manor stood deserted. He pointed his beak, dove to a shattered sill then flapped through silent brooding chambers. Death reeked in these halls. Where was the laughter now? Throwing stones at birds. The kids thought it fun causing them to flap, startling them into a flutter. Maybe it was only child’s play, a lark; it hadn’t seemed innocent then. As a consequence, he had failed to warn the family when danger arrived, two men lurking outside these windows late one night.
Now he missed the game. Their silly idle frolic.
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