The Unkindness of Ravens Page #2

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get back to you after the beep.

Angela, it's Andrew.

Look, I'm in trouble I need...

I need help!

You need to man up gorgeous.

That's what you need.

Believe me now?

Horrible things aren't they?

Half bird, half man.

Monstrous.

And so hungry.

Ravenous even.

Get it? Ravenous. Ravens.

Ravenous ravens.

I must be raven mad!

They're here!

Just take their picture.

Get it over with.

I don't want to die.

You will before

the night is out.

Hello.

- Hello?

- Hello, Angela?

Angela,

Angela... angel...

Am I your angel Andrew?

I don't understand.

Or am I one of those things?

You've been good to me.

Have I? Or have I

sent you to your death?

I don't understand.

Annihilation

breeds hopelessness...

Hopelessness breeds ripeness...

You have walked

the forked path...

now join us in the desolate

plane where we wait to feast...

The poetry is in the pain...

is in the

pain... is in the pain...

I can eat birds. I like birds.

I've always liked birds.

I'll f***ing eat a bird.

Come on!

You!

You're a f***ing bird.

Come on.

I don't want it.

It's over. All right?

That's it finished.

I don't want it any more.

I can't take it any more.

Stop doing it, I don't want it.

I don't like it.

I don't want to, please leave me alone.

Leave me alone, leave me alone.

Leave me alone.

"Putrified

inside, the flesh decays

and juicy white

eyes see nothing.

Wallow in the open, weakling.

Whine where they can find you.

With claws and beaks

and hungry tongues.

Seeking your sweet syrup.

Succumb to your disease.

Fester no longer, give

yourself to the horde.

You are best served

cold and empty.

They say that they

were full then

to the brim.

But they are ready for

their third course now."

I wasn't hiding, I was spying.

Scouting them out, looking for

their weaknesses. Aye, sure.

But did you find any?

No.

They're even more

powerful than we thought.

Do you know what they did?

They turned into ravens and

flew right out the window.

Who are they? What do they want?

They're scavengers, lost

servants of a dead God.

They stalk the desolate plane

feeding on those doomed

to walk the forked path.

They suckle from the foul

fluids that flow invisible

from the wounds

of lost soldiers.

Lured by the stench of despair

they leech away those last

shallow pools of life

and feast on the hopeless

meat that's left.

They taste you first, to

see if you're ripe so to speak.

We should surrender.

Get it over with.

- What? No, we...

- Chicken

Surely a coward would surrender.

A brave warrior faces death

when it is his time.

Well, it's not my time.

Did you like my poem?

- No, it was amateurish.

Just end it. Do it.

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