Exchange of the Beast and the Crow

On an empty street in an empty tree sits a common crow. He is a collector, like many others. In his decaying tree that clings to life, he scours the land for anything that he can find that may be beautiful. It is of the utmost importance to all crows to find something beautiful and hang onto it. It is the only game they have left since the beasts who used to swarm the earth below changed everything. He has many bitter rivals in this game, but the picking is good since the beasts have mostly died out. The crows do not miss the pale fleshy beasts who once built things. But still they are jealous creatures and covet the shiny items they have left behind. It’s just as well. Only crows can truly appreciate the beauty in these things. The beasts were clumsy and loud and boastful. They could not appreciate anything, and so they tore themselves apart and left the land barren and cruel. Now only a few are left and everyone else is better off for it. But crows are most humble for they revere beauty above all else.

Our young friend perched in his home was scanning the landscape of broken buildings, delighting in the broken glass littering the ground. It was worthless and common and could not earn respect amongst his peers as any prize, but it brought him joy nonetheless. His attention, however, was stolen by a noise just below. It was a child beast walking by beneath his tree. She was terribly dirty and making the most hideous injured noises despite showing no signs of hurt. But as this wretched thing stopped below to wipe her face, she was stuck staring at the most beautiful and shiniest thing he had ever seen. He stayed very still, mesmerized. And full of envy. The girl mumbled and whined in her wild noises and shook her fist with the shiny enclosed in her clawed hand so that he could no longer view it. He prayed and prayed for her to open it again so that he may see it. She does, but only to throw it on the ground. Without hesitation, he swiftly swooped down to gather it in his beak. He knew that she did not love it anyway. She threw it on the ground, after all. See, these beasts are full of garbage. It spills off of them like the few leaves on the trees do. He hears the girl wailing and stomping and thrashing about, so he hides way high up in the hole in his tree, peeking out ever so slightly. She is still down there. She stays until the sun goes down. The next morning she is still there staring up at him. He decides to finally come out into view and so she calls to him something he doesn't understand. Her voice is ugly to him, and he ignores her. Instead, he begins to admire the sky today. Beautiful deep blue, as always. Constant. He looks back at his stowed away treasure, proud of his quick thinking. He can see it better now. It is some sort of charm on a long chain. The charm has carvings and is round at one end and pointed at the other. The curves of it tickle him. He thinks of how to best show off his shiny to all his friends and win their favor. But he must be careful, for their jealousy can get the best of them. Friends are treacherous things.

He barely notices the girl wandering away, admitting her defeat. He is relieved. But then she returns the next day. He is bothered but does not show it. He waits to invite his audience as he worries that she will embarrass him with more of her pained wailing. But she is silent and staring with her wide empty eyes. He would be afraid, but he knows the beasts are cowards. She leaves that night but returns once more the next day. What is worse is that she now tries to climb up his tree. But she does not get far. He knew that she would not. Thankfully, the next day she does not come back.

Finally, the time is right. He devises a plan. He will invite three of his friends to come one at a time to view his precious shiny. And while they are inside, he will block the exit with his own lovely body so that they cannot vandalize it in any way. It was settled. The next day, a select few of his gossipy comrades came to see the fabled fortune. The first of his friends was so overcome with envy that she cursed and asked to leave at once. The second was positively stunned with joy and could not stop making delighted little caws at the sight of it. The third, however, was completely silent. He finally spoke only to claim it was worthless; hideous in fact, except that he could see his own reflection in it and then asked to stay a bit longer only to view his precious visage a while more. The crow says “Fine, fine” and keeps a watchful eye until he hears a low crackling beneath him. He darts his eyes to the intruder down below. It is the same child from a few days ago. She has a new item in her hand this time, not shiny at all but very ugly and oddly shaped. Like tiny tree limbs with string tied between. She has a rock in her other hand. She is not a good collector. She then raises these things up into the air. A trade? How silly. The rock sails quickly past his head and he flees to another nearby branch. He briefly wished that trees grew leaves the way they used to and that they would offer him a place to hide.

He waits and is grateful to find that the girl has not kept seeking her vengeance but she is now on the ground, wailing her ugly wail again. What a fragile stupid tiny beast. She is looking to the sky and, curious, he follows her gaze. His third visitor is fleeing as well and carried in his claws he can see the sunlight reflecting off of something shiny. His heart sinks as he looks back into his hiding place and sees its emptiness. He hangs his head in lament at his loss and does not see the second rock coming toward him.

The girl picks our crow up off the ground and carries him by his legs. "I'm sorry about this but you shouldn't take things that don't belong to you. It hurts. And you have nothing just like me now." She walks roughly a mile back to her own modest hide away. The path is a crumbling road with sinkholes leading to depths unknown. She comes to a tall concrete building with a few windows still left intact and heads inside to climb the stairs to the upper level. She peers inside her old home on the second floor with the ceiling caved in and booms "Mom! Dad?" No one greets her. "I'm home!" She is the only one there and quieter she begs, "Please stop hiding now. I'm sorry." She waits for a response and receives nothing in return. So, she climbs the rest of the way to the rooftop and sits down to start a fire. She begins plucking feathers.