A murder of crows and the poor match girl
Print Edition
IT was a normal cold day in the streets of Saint Petersburg. A little girl was out on the street with eyes full of hope that someone would buy her matches.
“That poor girl,” thought the pitch black crow.
“What ya do’n?” asked another out of the huge black pack of crows.
“I am watching that beautiful, poor girl on the street, trying to sell her matches,” he answered. “Oh, she tripped badly! What’s that? Someone stole both her shoes. What a mean person. Now, her pretty feet are going to freeze for sure!”
“Why are ya wachin’ that human? They have studied us for so long time and still haven’t realized that we can talk,” said the leader of the pack.
“I know that, but look at her. She doesn’t even have shoes anymore. She is poor and freezing,” he explained. “Look at her now she is heading towards us!” he whispered.
All the crows stopped talking.
“She’s sitting under the roof we are sitting on,” whispered one of them.
“Whats sha do’n now?” asked another.
“She is lighting a match. Can’t you see that?” thundered another.
“WOW,” went all the crows.
The fire of the match created a huge fireplace. It’s warmth was so bright that even the crows on the roof could feel it.
All crows went crazy. “This is impossible … She’s a witch,” the crows shouted wildly. Then, suddenly, the match went out.
“What happened now?” asked the leader of the pack. “How would I know,” another crow shot back.
“I feel bad for her. See how disappointed she is that the match went out,” noticed an injured crow.
“She won’t survive the night,” said one of the crows.
“You’re correct … Absolutely … yup,” all the crows agreed.
“At least through her death she will feed us all,” explained the leader.
All of them went quiet. They all knew he was right, but no one wanted to admit that. Until one of the crows cried out loudly, “I’m tired of waiting. Let’s get her!” With those words, the group’s oldest crow jumped down the roof, opened his wings, and began plowing her with dozens of small attacks. Soon others followed, and the poor match girl was crow food.
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