A Prose: The Crow Playing Girl

Have you ever seen a girl who plays with crows?  Well, I have and it is a moment that I can never forget.

Staring down from the skytrain platform, the scene is so intriguing that I have to press my hands firmly on the glass window before me.  It acts as a safety protector that separates me from that eerie world of the crow-playing girl.

For every two skips, she would turn back to throw away something that resembles small crumble of breads to the crows.  Then, she would happily skip again.  Waving her arms here and there, letting herself loose as if she has won a battle and now savouring her moments.  I have never seen someone so free, yet so lonely.  When she suddenly stands still and looks up to my direction, my eyes shift away when I catch a glimpse of dullness in her eyes.  Her calmness makes me uncomfortable. Just then, my ride comes, sparing me from the strange atmosphere.

I glance one last time before I enter the skytrain, and she seems to be on her merry way again.  However, just before the door shuts, a frightening image comes into my mind.  For a moment there, I thought she is trying to run away from the crows, panicking.  Her upper limbs push against the wind.  The crows are pecking into her flesh.  Maybe she is screaming, but the silent distance has made it as if she is making weird shapes with her mouth.  Then, the door shuts on me, leaving the netherworld behind.

I have always wondered if that has been the work of a very well structured dream.


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