I awake from an uneasy sleep, my clock informs me that it’s 3am. Walking to the window I open the curtains just enough to peek through. They’re still there, one makes eye contact with me and I let the curtain fall back into place.

It’s been a week since they started following me, 4 days since I realised that’s what they were doing. At first I thought that there were suddenly a lot more ravens about, but it’s always the same seven.

I walk to my chest of drawers and feel under my t-shirts for the reassuring cold metal of my pistol. Rushing outside I point my pistol at the largest of them, it doesn’t move. I start clapping my hands hoping to scare them off.

They don’t care about the loud noises, the largest flies closer towards me, perching on a fencepost. Shouting at it as I take aim. I squeeze the trigger and feel the recoil, the bird remains unharmed.

The ravens all fly to a spot on the ground nearby, I look over the fence and see them sitting on a body, the body of the man I had just shot.