Happy Halloween

 I pulled up sharply, small rocks under-wheel squealed in anger at being so rudely dislodged from their rest. Crow was up there, leaning into a leaning yucca stalk, which appeared as though it must topple over from the weight. His head swiveled from side to side, surveying the nearby; for all the head movement, though, his eyes never left me. The darkness and depth of those orbs was mesmerizing and drew me in. I was in a dark pool without sense of place, no rootedness grounding me, yet neither rising nor sinking.

There was something... there over my right shoulder where the sky should have been, but I couldn't think what it was. My head quickly turned, there was trepidation in the movement as if it might result in a sudden crash. Funny how I could think of crashing, but not picture what that thing over my shoulder was. The image was blurred and I thought to blink in an attempt to clear my eyes. Nothing happened; no blink. I thought blink again, but the result was the same. I turned again to the right and then blink, though the action wasn't mine. None the less, I could see clearly now; it was massive, but distant. A neon sign glowing red, but burning to orange, then yellow along the edges. I saw the letters - B L I N K and, though I tried to say the word, no sound formed around, or after, the five letters.

When I was a child, I had two recurring dreams - in one, I was in a "haunted house," being chased by a witch. It was as simple as that, and both times I can recall dreaming it I woke just before the crones' craggy, withered hand reached out and caught me. The second dream happened more often, and was the classic one of levitation; always outside, I would just start floating up in the air, above the trees, above the houses, looking down on the neighborhood. There was no control over it and, though it was always scary at first, I would easily touch back down.

This was much like that dream - I was suddenly rising, passing over the landscape. Movement was deliberate, but effortless; I had a sense of action, though not my own. There was no will in the effort. We were moving higher now (I had already come to think of "me" as "we,") that much was obvious as I watched the ground pass below. So why was I not feeling that movement, the air against my face, over my arms, through my hair. Movement should come with a feeling of rushing against the air. Anyone who has ever ridden a bike can tell you that.

Caw, kaw! The sound formed in my head as a thought even before it was verbalized. Did I say that? I laughed at the absurdity of someone putting words [words, since when is kaw a word] in my mouth. A picture formed in our (there we go again, "our" instead of "my") mind - someone feeding a ticker tape, a long stream of paper speaking for us, words that sounded the same yet carried different meanings. We suddenly swooped up and away to the left. At the same time a dark shadow rushed past, seeming to come out of nowhere, yet everywhere all at once. The encounter seemed to cause a momentary separation; the I was shocked, fearful, yet I could still sense that the we remained calm, as if the encounter was expected, anticipated. Then, again, there was just we, our eyes scanning. There was nothing, nothing but a disorienting blue all around. Were we upside down, or rightside up. But there was something else, and sense grew into form. It was slowly drawing closer, until a sudden shift of form brought it immediately in close - S H A D O W rose up from the air below, brushing up against us, sailing up beyond then diving back down. This time, though, there was an edged sharpness and talons ripped against wing.

This time we were surprised, heartbeat racing, eyes widened with heightened awareness; we dove and rose, veered to counter the attacks of S H A D O W. Sometimes we took the offensive. Kaw echoed all around the blue void, and there were many more S H A D O Ws around us, our eyes darting from one to another. Each of the others seemed to be moving quicker than we were; claws again ripped against black feathers, and then I was falling, falling... I blinked, I blinked, I blinked again before realizing that I blinked, not we. The day was bright, too bright, like I had suddenly emerged from a dark room. I looked up and a form took shape before me. A crow was staring at me. He sat atop a yucca and, while his head moved from side to side, he nevertheless seemed to just stare at me. Huh, I muttered and quickly looked away, down at my leg where a stinging sensation grabbed my attention. A scratch was there, not deep, but a rivulet of blood ran down my calf. Huh, I said again. I couldn't think of where it had come from, nor have I stared into the eyes of a crow ever since.