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A Far Crow

A group of Spanish adventurers manage to turn themselves into crows.

Jul. 25, 2019, 11:30 AM

By Will Street

Izon and the War of Xekakon Extended

Harks cry out along the hills of those ancient mountains. They breathe solemn tears of remorse, wretchedness and treachery. It is not strung from within, nor stripped from the back, but throws its lamentations endlessly across a riverbed.

Down the river comes the mountain. Down the merry fucking god’s throat comes the suckling river pig. Or better still a cow - a motherfucking cow. Those winds are harsh - all being understood - but the harshness can evaporate a cloud like no tomorrow.

You will see it cascading through the mountain expanse. You will see it shuffling spunk like a wet nurse at a clinic. It is a giant monolith of a being, a surreptitious legend that sparked as many rumours as you will see water droplets clattering into the stone.

The winds blow down across its ravines like a twinkling angel. The slightest of touches, or the deaf note of a drag, settles its emotions against the cumbersome frame. The stones, however, are more like their own proud testament and being. They are the brightest light of the planetary insanity.

From there and henceforth flow the rivers. They are not a tall edifice to some - more vague pictures of a different future - but somehow they seemed to sparkle to the creatures flying above, who appreciated their dignity.

Snaking and etching themselves across the landscape, the ravines censor all but the burgeoning land’s life. Deep within the tundra, comes a new a sentient. From this ancestral backdrop comes a new congregation of beings. From here comes the herd of humans.

And so the humans had domesticated their land and constructed edifices with which to live in. It was very god damn purty to some. The country was Spain and it was the early 17th Century.

From across the rocky backdrop, two young females paced along a stone bridge that headed towards the confines of the city. The legendary metropolises had been called Seville for over a millennium and was rich with an ornate Cathedral and picturesque town square.

The two ladies had been collecting lavender flowers and carried an assortment of them in their wicker baskets. They headed straight away to their father’s market stall on the far side of the town square.

The town square was as convex, quadrilateral centre-piece with over 200 busting stalls encircling its circumference. Hard-worn, dusty stone was at the base, which ensured a feverous cloud of dust sprouted up here and there. Whether beguiling incomers or nurturing the lungs of veterans what came was as a result of the mass of corn, wheat and flour on sale.

Leonardo raised his back after scanning the side of his stall and immediately caught sight of his approaching daughters. “Ahh!” He shouted out cordially. “How very nice to see your return!” He slammed down his hands on the wooden table and smiled exuberantly. “Those lavender flowers will be just the trick to complement the decorative department on show! Come now,” he continued fervently. “Place them down behind the stall and get ready to greet customers wanting to buy our seeds.”

The three merchants continued in this way busily feeding the hive of customers that got funnelled in to their very own stall. It felt like enlightenment was now on their shoulders. It felt like Grecian entropy was appearing anew, simultaneously driving them to infinity.

It had been a good half-an-hour in this way when one of the girls, named Kate, shoved a large portion of the seeds delicately behind the wooden bench, and gazed across at her sister, Jane, who was on the far side of the stall viciously writing figures in the notebook.

She looked surreptitiously at her sister’s soft complexion and gentle mannerisms as if she were the angel of her afternoon exerts. After a moment, Jane turned and her gaze caught Kate firmly in the face. “Before long you and I will be eating that freshly baked meringue pie I’ve been promising you about over the past few weeks!” Kate announced cordially.

“If only we had two fine gentlemen to taste it with us!” Replied Jane abruptly. She then smiled to herself. “I’d like a man to whisk me off my feat!”

“Well things like that need to be snatched upon in an instance!” Replied Kate astutely. “It’s not often that a fine gentleman comes looking around here, searching for a maiden.” She heaved a sack of seeds from behind the stall. “I suggest you keep your eyes open and your name at the tip of your tongue!” She turned around and smirked. “For all our sakes!”

Yet, with all the sweetness they could imagine, a far-flung Christian Bishop, the Archbishop of Seville in fact, stood tall on a platform on the north side of the town square, which rested between the austere Castilla behind, and began to vociferously address the gatherers.

Jane gazed back at Kate and muttered some words whimsically. “It looks like he’s had a few cakes himself!” She chuckled. But, momentarily later, she turned around, enraptured by the loud bellows of the bishop that reverberated across the town square.

“Decades ago,” began the bishop forcefully. “A new contraption was invented.” He mulled over his words with an aged decorum. “That was neither a quill nor parchment, nor a means to fly with the birds…”. He steadied himself ready to pronounce his words. “But something far more important.” He stood up straight, with pride in his eyes. “That was, indeed, a clock. A clock,” he continued. “That can tell the time!”

The crowd seemed to deflate with a mixture of silence and gasps as if mesmerized by what seemed to be a stupendous announcement. Yet the bishop carried on further.

“But what is it that we understand by ‘time’?” he uttered rhetorically. “For instance…” he continued further. “The great civilizations of Rome or Athens began centuries before our time. They conquered whole nations. They brought civilization to swathes of lands once inhabited by barbarians. Yet,” he peered around as almost puzzled himself. “To me or any of you, their empire knew such greatness that it can only have been eternal. It must have endured centuries of what we call our years today.”

He stood up straight ready to announce his conclusion. “How can we know where and when we are as a human? How can we guess at the time we are living in? Or at what passage of time and what age we find ourselves in? He calmed himself and gave one last final address. “Those are the questions you must ask yourself and implore you all to examine your own reality!”

Naturally, as was the case with religion, most of the market dwellers discarded his words as philosophical rubbish. They quickly resumed their bustling and bartering around the market stalls.

As for Jane and Kate, they were unusually partial to a bit of deep and meaningful vocabulary and took a bit of strength from his perplexing words.

Indeed, so enlivened by the statement, both Jane and Kate decided they would venture to the tavern immediately, leaving their father, Leonardo, to close down the stall. They grabbed their linen purses and trotted off by foot to the nearby tavern.

***

On the same day, on the same afternoon, a farm labourer, Terence by name, had been working vigorously on an orange-tree plantation to the southwest of Seville. He was bulky, muscular form of man, whose rotund corpus told the story of all his labours. Nonetheless, he was adept in botany and was not only a labourer, but second in command of the whole farm.

A more slender, shorter worker, however, had taken the opportunity to perch down on side of the bank and rest out of the blazing sun. He lit up his pipe as Terence gazed dumbfounded at his insolence.

Terence stepped over to the poor gentleman and examined the wearied man’s extraordinary guile. “Umm… what the fuck do you think you’re doing??” He pressed loudly. “This is not the time for breaks! Nor the time to start shying away from the plantations.” He arched over the poor man so much so that he blocked out the rays of the sun. “Let me spell it out for you!” He continued. “Either you get the fuck back to those orange trees or you’re dismissed from this farm on the spot!”

That did, unfortunately, induce the poor man to return back to his slavery, notwithstanding the sharp sneers of all his colleagues as well. They journeyed across the such highly esteemed orange plantations for the remaining four hours. It was the remaining four hours that the lacklustre “day” prohibited them from leaving.

Terence, on the other hand, shoved his shirt on the side of the barn and reached straight away for his favourite style of beverage. The new invention of bottled beer particularly soothed his appetites, and he grabbed about ten in his wearied and sun-baked hands. Thereupon he made his way to the top of an escarpment that looked out across the dusty plains. Basking in the glare of the sun, he screwed open a bottle one-by-one and relaxed in the drunken merriment.

He fell down and rested across the grass in a stupor. The fading daylight gradually began to dwindle. Across the valley, the orange sun was met by the horizon as if the African savannah. He began to fall in and out of sleep, shocking himself every time to stay awake. He began to fall into a dreamworld…yet a dream that was immediately interrupted by the very loud shudder of hooves galloping across the escarpment.

He immediately flung himself up and gazed to the right where the sound of the galloping was coming from. There, in front of him, were two women riding a white horse and a brown horse, galloping wildly as if bereft from inhibition.

Their freedom and wilderness was mesmerising. They seemed like a far-gone star, burning into a supernova. He shoved his hat aboard his chest and looked endlessly towards the emboldening spectacle. As the pair of them bridled the escarpment lower towards the valley, he heaved himself up off the ground and shouted out towards the two females.

With a majestic yawning, the two ladies caressed their stirrups and passed closer Terence… to him as he was - the veritable sanctified witness of the Muses. A slithery thrill ran across Terence’s body. They passed from metre to metre, up across the escarpment, until they reached the upper bank and promptly encircled him like Knights to his dwarf-self.

The elder of the two, Kate, with flowing brown hair, was the first to jump down from her horse. She patted its side while cordially introducing herself and Jane. The circumstances seemed akin to a desert oasis, befitting the rarity of human contact in these outer regions. Jane stroked the bridge of her horse’s nose while Kate opened a lager bottle Terence had offered her.

“Chance would be a fine thing… if only we could witness a spell of rain amidst the barren drought!” Exclaimed Jane astutely.

Terence seemed calm and subdued and attempted to cajole the conversation onwards with more guile. “I suppose its only a pretty soireés for well-to-do ladies such as yourself,” he cried merrily. “You should stay clear of the sun or it will burn your pale, dainty skin.”

“And suppose an old farm man should watch his tongue!” Denounced Kate adamantly.

“I’m only saying.” Terence stammered and withdrew himself. “Say…” he continued. “If I were a pretty young female like yourselves, the first thing I would do is marry a man from the manor house. That would keep occupied with all the treasures I could need!”

“We come from the market stalls at the town square. We have little more money and certainly aren’t well-to-do women as you say!” Retorted Kate in reply.

“Ahh. So you’re a merchant kind of female!” Continued Terence. “Well. I don’t trust them. Always trying to sell me things.”

“And folk from the country are so much better??” Denounced Jane. “I hardly think so! I ain’t ever seen a barn not infested with rats!”

“You mean the kind that nest in the sacks of grain they sell at the market!” Cried Terence again.

Terence chuckled whimsically to himself yet further. “You know what,” he said yet again, before perching higher across the dusty bank. “There’s a saying around here. A saying that neither man nor woman knows what is to live, until they’ve lived in the wilderness!” He perked up and looked proud. “Then you know what type of person you are!”

He then paused and stared at them both wolfishly. “In fact,” he continued. “Let me charge across the grass with these horses and then we’ll see if you still think the same!”

He leapt upon the white horse with all the audacity of a mountain wolf. Bridled great wooden ships knew of the might he mustered right there, as if he were the Egyptian god, Ra, yoking the stirrups of the eternity. He flung himself on board the back of the horse like a barrage of Titans.

Perching himself upon the white horse, he then turned his head back and glanced at the two women wolfishly. “I shall ride until the end of the Earth!” He exclaimed viciously. “I will ride further than man can see the horizon! I will ride at the speed of the gods!” And with that he kicked his two thighs across the horse and galloped into the distance. It felt like a shooting star tumbling into the galactic mist. It felt like the pip of a tree charging into newfound revelry.

Both Jane and Kate stared at Terence nonchalantly. They stared out towards him as he began to gallop into a circle, 500 yards away from them below the escarpment. Twisting and turning for several minutes, the insolent young gentleman eventually began to loop round and return in their direction. As he approached slumberly up the escarpment, both the girls screamed and shouted out their amazement in a delicate form of applause.

“What a fine gentleman you are after all!” Lauded Jane vocally.

“You’re like our very own knight, destined to do battle in the jousting enclosure!” Added Kate equally fervently.

Terence jumped down from the horse and chuckled with a humble grin. “Not at all! Not at all, fine girls!” He cried with a deprecating smile. “A simple trot across the fields is by no means a trouble to a man like myself.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the pair of them dismissively. “It is in battle, facing the dreaded bayonets, that one must be careful.” He patted the side of the white horse. “But two fine stallions you have here nonetheless!” He exclaimed cordially.

In fact, so enamoured by the farmer’s dark smiles and twisted audacity, the young girls perked up and announced whether Terence would like to meet them both at one of the many Seville pubs in the coming days. Both flattered and in love himself, Terence informed them that he would be much obliged – and indeed, the date was set for the coming Saturday, befitting all of the retinue’s appetites. Sparked with a thrill like no other, Jane and Kate jumped aboard their horses and travelled onwards. Terence, himself, sauntered back to the farmhouse like rocking boat tied to a jetty. Withdrawing a bottled beer from the cupboard, he strolled outside, looked up at the sky and smiled.

***

Flying coniferous trees, dancing in the wilderness and ayonder, spark a visible fire in any eternity. The coarse and undulating mountains shudder out of sight, like mammoths hiding from the snow. The landscape can be the wicked traitor, incising hatred and distributing it within the valleys. They can no longer defend the gatehouse. They no longer keep water afloat in the moats.

Sharking out a further cliff to fall, like some electrostatic wave, the energy pulses through a newfound gnome. The incubated hen salvages all it can. It takes a walk up the mountain side and lights an ongoing beacon. The pregnancy can be harsh and the retribution enormous… yet the pulsations through the blood stream speak only one truth.

Yet the eagerness is met against the ongoing colossus. It is met by an ongoing train that goes only in one direction. Firepits, furnaces and cellular batteries delude its chances, like the last pick of a chocolate egg amongst a nest. Its marsupial yearning is beyond all it has known. It is, in fact, beyond the very trees that have guarded the riches. It is a peasant at this stage of its achievements, a mere sipping hippo that knows not where it will go, just the riches it so desperately hunts for.

Floundering beside it, soaring high in the air, is the vehicle who sets them down on their playing field. Theirs is an austere, retrograde one who seems more akin to an omnibus whose engine stutters to a halt. It glides seemingly in time – in tune as well – and takes its part responsibly in the symphony. But slow the clock ticks. Slow the clock ticks and before long the auditorium is vacated like an empty toilet. Everything is now precluded at this point. Everything is precluded like a haunting platitude. What is to do for the rat at this point? Must he climb higher and higher atop a cliff that never stops? He slips into the inevitable jet stream. He takes as his solace only the wind aside the clouds. He becomes bereft of his intuition like the messenger stopping him at the end of the hallway.

Arrive at this point must be the revolving chiming of the clock. Arrive at this point must be the pudding of the banquet. It must all be taken from the cupboard, the cabinet if you will, and fed to the masses until their hearts are content. Each evening and each restitution, the candlelights must be lit. They must be lit for each and one of their souls. Their fiancé must fill their glasses in equal measure. For it is then that the membranes of this civilization might furnace civility.

Indeed it was at the pub, named “The Three Crowns”, that Terence, Jane and Kate met on a Saturday evening. The atmosphere and room had a pungent aroma, while the table and chairs seemed like embossed leprechauns across a garden. The triplet approached the bar. It was a bar that itself appeared like a varnished oak tree tossed on its side.

Suited and booted, and with an anticipatory grin, the group approached the bar table nonchalantly. Terence berated his hand across the underside of the wooden self. Kate and Jane, alternatively, glared at each other like a school of clown fishes, guarding the sisterhood they were.

First it was Terence who glanced back at them. “How about a couple bottles of wine for us to enjoy eh, young ladies?” He turned and looked seriously at the barmaid. “That should keep us mighty fine for the foreseeable future!”

The two ladies gave Terence an apathetic nod, before turning and gazing at the beauty of the fellow drinkers they had surrounding them. They felt as if they were cogs in some wild machine, derelict computer parts in the glorious reality surrounding them. They could see no further than the four walls surrounding them, but their hearts felt as if they belonged beneath the stars a trillion miles away.

“I suppose most of the stuff at the market is all fruit and beer,” he continued proudly. “It’s not often that we get to tuck into a fine bottle of wine!”

“These things are a delicacy to some,” replied Jane. “But I think they’ll find a place amongst the cabinets of the cottages before long.” She turned and held out her glass astutely. “Now come, fine gentleman, and let us find a table to greet us!”

The triplet sat down in the corner of the room and began to muse over their lives and desires. They cordially sipped their wine and uttered small talk apathetically. They uttered small talk briskly as if they were in the clouds. After several minutes with the conversation continuing in this way, Terence at last began to move onto a subject that both intrigued and seduced the two girls’ minds. He took a sip of his drink, before arching forward and staring at them firmly in the face.

“Alas.” He announced first. “The withered streets of this city only bring sadness upon me.” As the girls seemed stunned and shocked, he continued further. “Yes, yes. You see.” He stretched from side to side in his chair. “You see many years ago I would come to the bars of Seville and drink merrily away.” He sighed and steadied himself. “However, one day, roughly 20 years ago, something most wickedly struck the city.” Despair came over Terence’s face. “Something struck the city so much so that it would never be the same.” He heaved a sigh before uttering his conclusion. “It was the wicked plague of 1697. It was a plague that ravished our lands and took all from what we had!”

“Ahh, what sorrow time it was,” continued Kate adamantly. “It came as I was just starting school… pilfering all that we had to hope of!”

“Those blastered plagues were the end of us!” Cried Jane in agreement. She stepped up and leaned over the table, however, as if with a sea-captain’s strength. “But we cannot let them overcome this town!!” She looked firm and tried to waive her arms in the air in the direction of all her fellow drinkers within the room. “We are built upon strength!” She cried vociferously. “We are built upon stone!”

Terence heaved with a sigh. He then took a puff of his cigar and blew elusively up into the air. “I used to live with my mother across the town square from here. It was just across the market alongside the road to the river.” He looked at both of them apathetically. “We used to ride a horse out onto the meadows for pleasure.” He then almost began to snarl to himself. “But the menace took them. That fucking plague took them and destroyed everything we had!”

“Now, now!” Blurted Jane adamantly. “Here the market stalls now run every month. Drinks flow in the taverns every evening! We have survived that god forsaken plague!” She slammed her elbows on the table and looked like a fervent otter. “I suggest none of you look the past, but only the future!”

Kate stepped in as if the sturgeon schoolteacher. “But look at what we have lost because of that godforsaken plague!” She bludgeoned with a snarl. “Whole generations have been wiped out. And the town was left to become a dust bowl!” Nay,” she stepped in further. “If it wasn’t for that damn plague, we would be able to fly with the birds by now. We could have created great machines to take us to Olympus!” She looked proud and astute and lifted her elbows off the table. “All without the destruction that sickly illness brought upon us!”

“It is in your mind!” Denounced Jane viciously. “Anyone, from anywhere, whenever… can fly like the birds if only they try!” She shot up from the table and screamed at the congregation. “Let’s do it now! All of you I say! Let’s do it now!” She stood tall and proud and addressed the drinkers around her. “Everyone… here right now!” Take your glasses with you and let us venture outside to fly like the birds!”

Indeed, with most of their fellow drinkers being highly inebriated by now, the majority agreed to join them on what they thought would be a lark. They ventured outside and took a long gulp of their beverages. There, at the front of the crowd, Jane orchestrated the event unfolding. “On the mark of 3,” she cried. “Put your glasses down and charge into the oncoming night in front of us!” She was stood at the front of the crowd and looked like a wrathful warrior ready to lead the assault. “1,2,3!” She continued with her cry, before finally she screamed the enraged word “charge” and the retinue began hurtling into the darkness in front of them.

They hurtled and galloped like enraged fanatics. Their soul was rather written across their faces – in blue, like the Celtic warriors of thousands of years previous. The night swept up their savagery that evening. The drunken hooligans spilt freedom across the darkness’ maze. What is the darkened forest anyway, but the stadium of the revellers’ frenzied emotions? It was a newfound sperm whale, to annunciate their toils and filter the energy through those shadows. The mobsters ran and ran. They ran until the darkness scoured them from vision.

***

Three very peaceful weeks later, the triplet of Jane, Kate and Terence were still in Spain. They were still attending the beach most mornings. They were still dropping cigarette butts at the side of the road.

However, they still felt the same deeply imbedded connections they had for each other. They still felt the social yearning to no longer be apart. Indeed, tracing its lineage, what had began as a countryside transgression was now becoming a strictly obliging friendship group.

Bustling browed rabbits speak of these things. And before long, Terence sent a letter to the residence of Jane and Kate. He sent them a letter asking them whether they would like to attend his orange plantation in the countryside surrounding Seville.

It was his pride and joy to Terence. Nay, it was his primal means to get women into bed with him. He guarded its gravitas like a sickly puppet ready to fall down on his catch. He would practice in front of the mirror, catching fish like a bear to a salmon.

In effect, he wanted to spread the word of his revelations. He wanted to spread the gospel like a Puritan Protestant. As such, he had written onboard his parchment an invitation for Jane and Kate. It was an invitation for the pair of them to come to his orange farm the following Saturday. Remembering the occasion that it was, he had sketched in ink that he’d presumed they could venture once again atop the two decadent horses from before.

Jane and Kate received the news like a chocolate bar at Christmas. They felt in awe and amazed. Their hearts were turned asunder and they scurried throughout the town like young children fearing only to abate the connections they had struck. The whimsical surroundings of the monolithic atmosphere became only an entertainment ring to them, as if their hearts had met and were now disseminating across the universe.

Bristled and combed, the retinue agreed to convene on the following Saturday. It was the first Saturday of the month of September. Terence, proud and sincere, had laid on a spread akin to Henry VIII in one of his many past hunting lodges. The butlers had been informed and the footmen lined the walls like a decoration of gargoyles.

Jane and Kate arrived this time in a carriage. It was, however, pulled by the same delightful horses from before, who chomped at the stirrups like two bona fide stallions. The door to the carriage was opened with a sweep by one of the footmen and the two ladies stepped out of the carriage.

“Ahh… what wonderful weather we have today!” Gasped Kate fervently. She stepped across the pebble and swashed her paper fan. “We’ll soon find the crops twice the size of us if the sun keeps beating down across these fields!” She turned and gazed frivolously at her sister. “Come now, my dear!” She cried daintily. “Let’s ventured inside and indulge in a beverage to withstand this blastered heat!”

Jane looked nonchalant and charismatic as she paced towards the doorway. “I’ll follow your lead, darling Kate!” She mused apathetically. “It was always you who knew how to pour a drink in summer. Nay it was you,” she continued. “Who always knew how to entertain the masses!”

The two of them were greeted by the butler and were ushered to sit down in the morning room. Terence, they announced, would be swiftly on his way. In the meantime, the two dainty females were allowed the time to loosen their inhibitions. They stared at the beautiful oil paintings on the wall… pictures of what seemed to be Terence’s ancestors… stringent knights and lords who gazed down across the room with an ardent astuteness like by-gone legends. The tall walls and antique decorations gave a solemn feel as if the history and ancestry was shining down across the inhabitants.

With a “bang” came a knock on the door, before it swiftly revealed Terence entering into the foray, a knight and garter as he had always seemed to them.

“Congratulations, young ladies! Congratulations, young ladies!” He applauded again. “You have made your way and can now witness the grandeur of Seville manor!” He arched forward and both of the ladies stepped up to greet and kiss him.

“What a fine establishment you do have here!” Cried Kate affectionately.

“Now, now, young ladies!” He rebuffed feverously. “A house is but a mere slab of stone compared to the chance to fly!” He stared around at the room. “Why I always find this place dragged down by history, dragged down by memories… that has always yoked us from travelling up in the sky like the birds!”

“But what means… and what mechanisms have you??” Intruded Jane viciously into the discussion. “Is this all just idle conversation… or do you have the means to take us to the realm of the gods… to take us to Olympus??”

Terence gasped and sighed like an aged professor who had now become a degenerate. “It is not wise to seek what you cannot yet understand!” He dismissed regretfully. “It reminds me of my life in the orchards… my life across the orange plantations.” He stretched forward to Jane and Kate warmly. “You see no one can fathom how that sweet orange edifice is created in all its beauty. So the sun beats across the plant, and what is provided for us is this sweet nectar. It is, in effect, a miracle!”

“Yet!” I am certain that it is a miracle that can be learnt!” Cried Jane adamantly. “It is a miracle that can be deconstructed, a miracle that can be studied and a miracle that can be taught!” She stared vigorously at her fellow compatriots. “The time is now that these wonders must studied and divulged to the masses. They must be unravelled from the enshrined god that deceives this populace and explained to the common individual. It is our respect and newfound ethics!”

Terence looked subdued and obsolete, but focused entirely on their feverous debate. “I see an endless toil barraging against our shores!” He cried in despair. “However, how about we venture towards the orange trees! It is there that we might find a breakthrough to this ignominious problem!”

***

The clouds loomed just as much above their heads. The heavy clouds dissolved the surroundings with the threat of rain. It shrouded the sky atop. It beguiled the mystery of their species. It beguiled the mystery of their species as they encroached upon their friend that was the glistening bumblebee, who shrouded in the shadows.

The contingents paced towards the orange plantations beneath the escarpment. They trudged down the hillside pontificating on the wonders of nature around them and their own proverbial emotions. Kate, twisted like a maiden aside a knight, began to tint the conversation with a hint of passion. “Imagine what it would be like to frolic through all eternity!” She cried at one point.

“The countryside is built for the ambitious!” Cried Terence in reply. “It is built for those who discard the ties to wealth or royalty.” He turned back and glanced at them absolutely. “It is built for those who reject the desires or customs of decorum and live as man should really be!”

“You talk of life like that,” interrupted Jane astutely. “As if you see no desire to witness the flower of your fruit blossom into something new!” She glared at the soil beneath her and uttered her words towards the ground. “As if I’d met a man with more stone of a heart than yourself!”

“Do not mistake the limits I will go to!” Denounced Terence ardently. “If only pushed in a certain direction!”

“Well let’s see it now!” Decried Jane passionately. “Tell us how to discern the mysteries from your own very fine oranges. Speak to us now about their beauty! Divulge how they can lead us to glory!”

Terence strolled forward beside an orange tree and attempted to muster the courage to speak. His words were heavy, and his breath dejected at the antipathy they were shoving towards him. Nay, they were heaving a psychological onslaught upon his shoulders. He felt like the rat he had always been. He felt like the lacklustre farmer always second best to the will of his workers. It seemed like the scurrying orchards were entangling in an interweaving maze and he sought to examine the two women, as if by some infra-red mechanism.

But have one he did not, and he felt their eagerness burning against his brow. “I do not believe the mysteries are one to be told to the incumbent,” he cried resolutely at last. “But much rather shown!” He took a deep breath and seemed proud. “In that light,” he continued. “Let me take you down to the river and reveal to you the sacred rites!”

They all eagerly strolled down the hill towards the river. The air was warm and the delicate sound of the water rushing across the stone soothed their anticipations. It soothed their minds with subtle pleasantries that reminded them of the lavender fields. The humidity, equally, brought a psychological relaxation and they began to feel at one with the wilderness’ nature.

They trudged their way through the tall grass. The clouds began to shroud the field in gloom. The atmosphere swarmed over their necks like a circumspect medallion. Yet in time with their audacity, their beating hearts were at the centre of the vernal procession that followed tightly in order. They were explorers, nay students, of the cosmic ceremony about to come.

Indeed, as the triplet approached the riverbank, they could see a group of four other individuals. They seemed like individuals dressed up as if Druid monks. Paint and sketches adorned their faces. They were dressed in brown cloaks befitting their primitivity. On each of their foreheads rested a proud blue circle.

Jane and Kate knew at once that this was no safe place. Jane glanced across and interrogated Terence. “Why have you brought us here!” Shot Kate viciously.

“Well my lady!” Cried Terence in retort. “If you want to witness the mysteries, you must take yourself to further extremes!” He paced forward and stared towards the firepit in the middle of the Druids. “The intelligible dwells not in the towns of this land, but the fires of the wilderness and liberal emotions. For it is told,” he continued. “That one must stare into the firepit to unravel the nature of true being to himself.

He stretched down the bank leading them onwards. “It is in the heart that revelation comes! It in the heart that metamorphosis comes!”

With the light of the day fading, Jane and Kate were first instructed to bathe themselves in the river. They were thereupon told to wash themselves in an attempt remove bodily and mental impurities. As the light of the day faded, at last Druids began to heave more logs onto the fire. Thereupon the women were instructed they could sit around the fire and begin the ceremony.

Immediately the shaman began to utter some liturgy, shooting into the fables that he so strongly held to. The four Druids began to murmur into the air. The murmuring got louder and louder until the monks were chanting liberally. The feverous sound rose into humming melodies, which beat up into the air like a low-pitched wail. On and on increased. On and on it increased.

“I, the Lord Shepherd” Cried the shaman. “Call upon the mysteries here right now to reveal the truth of our kind!” He closed his eyes and continued chanting in the air as if a prayer. “Take not this body,” he continued. ”But emancipate us from our frailty!” He held the hand of his fellow Druid viciously. “Open us now to the truth,” he continued further. “Open us now to the mysteries and open us now to ecstasy!”

He opened his eyes and glared at the flock who all tightly held their hands. “For it is then,” he continued further. “That we might see reality unravelled before our eyes! It is then that we might see our toils recompensed. Nay,.” he uttered once again astutely. “We have before us the addition of these two young ladies. It can only bring further troughs to water our lands. Pray thee now, pray thee now!” He cried with a darkened hallow. “Light the beacons… so that we might fly like the gods! Arrest from your deliberateness and launch these contingents up into the sky! Launch these contingents into birds flying high in the sky!"

Indeed, amazingly, the whole number of participants began to ascend upwards into the air. It was a magical spectacle. It a wondrous enactment. They glided upwards at a gentle pace no longer human. For a human is chained to ground, incarcerated by gravity. But not for them. Not for them who spilt drinks upon empty bar tables. The revellers had won that night. They had been chosen and now they were free and liberated. All and everyone of them beside that river that day turned into a crow.

PART 2

Over the following weeks and months, more and more fine men and women ventured to the sacred grotto. Each time and on each occasion, they performed the sacred rites. Duly, indeed, they were transformed into crows. By six months later over 2,000 Spanish citizens had taken the almighty step. There was now an avian army, filled with the enamoured folk who had previously been destitute.

The race of half-man half-crow disseminated across the globe. From Seville in Spain, many travelled north-eastwards across the Mediterranean Sea. The voyage across the sea was tiresome, yet by the time they arrived at the peak of the Italian Alps, they found newfound customs and treasures. Others, alternatively chose to head directly northwards, passing the Pyrenees, but relishing their appetites on the food of Northern France. In fact, some went westwards to the Americas, others overland to Europe and equally there were others who went straight southwards to Africa.

If I were to describe these fine folk of beings, I would say they appeared as an elongated eagle, who was naturally black in similarity to a crow, but three metres wider and with the head of a human. They were, indeed, an anthropomorphic wonder. They could fly for miles, soaring above all other birds. When hungry, they plucked their nourishment from other birds, who fell wickedly to the crows’ hungry mouths.

Idyllically, the most proud of this avian empire were the birds who travelled south-eastwards to land of Tunisia in north-eastern Africa. There they found the rocks and the plains to blossom as a community. They would scan for miles searching for high-resting caves that they deemed suitable to house their community.

But the crows didn’t stop there. Their community had lasted a couple of years as vagabonds, stifling each cave they chanced upon and calling it their home, until at last they started to find dishevelled and disused castles instead. There they set up a fortress - a safe house - to give them all a more comfortable living.

The Tunisian clan was situated in the desert mountains, roughly 100 miles directly south of Tunis. Their castle had a spiralled Islamic tower and large watchtower rising 20 yards above. Most of the time the crows would perch atop the towers, preparing to hunt for a meal or relishing their grandeur. The courtyard at their feet was filled by crows, fighting for food and squabbling amongst themselves.

Their sinister black coat gave them the demeanour of an evil tribe. There was little order. Instead, the squabbling would turn vicious and the majority heavily feared the leading crows who controlled the clan. Even worse, the infighting would intensify over the winter months, where dirtied faecal matter would putrefy in the inner courtyard. They scowled and snatched at their fellow avian clansmen endlessly. What resulted was a wretched dark pit, riven with depravity.

The crows would gather – every evening – in a form of Viking banquet hall. They would munch on dead birds’ bones and spit out distastefully detritus as they got drunk from flagons of wine. The order was sparse. It appeared far more like unrestrained brutality, that was now a feature of their animal lives.

Hereupon we find a crow who was indifferent in comparison to his fellow crows, but was of singular importance to his species. His name was Anchises and he had been a crow for a good seven years. As each of the crowds shrouded themselves with evil, deep within the banquet hall, he stepped up towards the royal bench. There he stood in front of the grand table and began to announce a speech.

“My fellow crows!” He cried heartily. “Seven years have passed in which our community has blossomed stupendously!” He addressed the crowd emphatically with pride in his voice. “The skies above know only of our glory!” He lauded yet further. “The race of the birds is unmatched in comparison to our magnificent nation. A nation,” he stepped forward fervently. “That will rule the world!” He glanced down at his parchment before continuing. “Now then,” he continued while pacing from side to side. “The time is right for you to let off some steam. It is the time for you to frolic and cavort in the richly ordained summer party that we have to offer. Go now!” He shouted astutely. “Enjoy the enticements of wine and beer and dance until the rise of a newfound dawn!”

His austere words did prompt a descent into debauchery. The mass of crows threw aside their already diminishing restraint and respectability and hurled themselves around like they were waging war. They filled the courtyard in a mesh of insanity. Flapping their wings drunkenly, the sinister atmosphere was an altogether shambles… a shambles tinted in a gloss of inherent evil.

Their exuberance was matched by the pilfering state of depravity. Their ignorance and ignominiousness only gave them more energy. The sinister grey stone of the castle was a pit of rushing blood… a pit of bustling opaqueness, with which to shroud their wretchedness from the world and with that all things beautiful.

But, however, the prophetic crow, Anchises, had other things on his mind. When he looked to the stone walls of the castle or the gentle blue sky above, he did not merely see a means to drunkenly inebriate himself. Rather, he saw a much bolder potential. He saw a means to bring totality to the clouds. He saw a means to stretch the rule of Tunisia across the whole world.

He would shut himself off vigorously from the rest of the crows over the following weeks. He shunned the banquet hall, withdrew himself from the baths and locked himself in his room, endlessly studying a way to take governmental control of the entire planet. At last, with his heavy brow almost beaten across the leather-bound books, he learnt of something which he thought he could devise.

The theory ultimately stemmed from a northern cleric, named David, who professed a certain political strategy. He foretold a peculiar strategy, which required installing the right people in the right places throughout worldwide governments. When said forces had been adequality fortified and cemented in their position, the faction could then rise up, start a coup and take control of all worldwide governments.

It was a treacherous and illicit act, but one that fascinated the mind of Anchises as he sat in his office reading through the books. Immediately he thought best to inform his deputy, Julius, of the plot. Incensed by the wisdom and totality, he even began to envisage the glory that might ensue… simple dreams that might flutter across his brow with all the wonder he could have dreamt of.

The two men rushed around the Tunisian castle diligently over the following days. They were cofounded and enthralled by the simple truths of the military options now before them. They both stared at the mindless stupidity of their fellow crows - their vulgar dependency on base appetites and sinister dislike for all other sentient beings. Yet the fervent cry of nationalism ran tall across their environment. They, the two leaders surmised, could be a brethren united and lead to worldwide dominance.

Anchises drew out a map one morning in his dishevelled office. There, he began to address his military command. Anchises had fine-tuned the paperwork the entire previous evening and presented his plan to the war cabinet. He stepped behind the microphone and directed the councillors to the image beside him that was projected on the wall.

“As you can see,” he uttered confidently. “Each nation has a chain of command. A chain of command,” he continued, “occupied by Tunisian crows.” He clicked the image onto another slide. “In each and every nation across the seven continents is a ladder of authority.” He flicked the slide forward again with a bemused astuteness. “They are waiting purely to listen for our cry. At a swig of the messengers, they will expose their rivals on charges of illicitness – thereby forcing them out of office. At this point our forces will use populist measures to seize power of the respective states. No will know of the connections between each state’s leaders and the plan will be carried out without suspicion.” He slammed down his drink and looked at the audience proudly. “This my friends,” he continued. “Will be the start of the worldwide domination of the Tunisian clan!”

Very fine, but treacherous individuals, across the globe were therefore contacted in accordance with the divine leaders’ plans and provisions. Ghouls, gargoyles and serpents were sent across the continents. They sent the developing vociferous news - and took it as an excuse yet further to defile the land with hate as they passed along on their journey.

The storms were running high. Every ounce of water in the ocean was pilfering their longing passage into eternity. It was a withering didacticism. It was a simple flower amongst an orchard. Yet in its measures it was a savage wolf ready to pounce – to pounce and let the blood run and disseminate across the waves.

Neptune, Lord of The Seas, struck his trident against the force of the barrage. Riding along the water, the waves and storms were at his command in the unearthly defence. His nemesis, Achilles, was shoved to the rocks - tuned asunder. Rising supreme was Anchises, now half bird and orchestrating his invasion out to the masses.

Accompanying this hero, a pod of dolphins swam and circumvented Neptune’s chariot as he moved forward. Beside the water-chariot, Nereids swam and sang stories of the wonders of the ocean. They sang songs of old as if encircling the congregation in a choir. Bumbling from their buttered cheeks, the shouts and cries ran out across the journeying clan of Tunisian crows. It ran out like the sound of drums marching into war.

The leading battalions arrived at the different locations to act as overseers of the developing coup. Anchises’ plans and provisions had been astutely devised so much so that they were greeted by political representatives who shared an early optimism about their chances regarding the assault. Nonetheless they were strictly down to the important work.

What they viewed as essential was the co-ordination between the different worldwide coups. The birds had a means of communication in the form of speedy scouts who would relay messages. Sure, it was highly primitive. But it had some strength in the muscular nature of these vicious birds. They were designed for high adrenaline rocket power. They could fly and glide like the gods.

As for the worldwide coup? Well that began to swiftly take place. Most other clans were tired from endless hunting. With fewer numbers they were also unable to collectivise their domesticity. They were equally frail from having spent such a long time away from other clans. As such, many of the leaders put up little fight. They were stunned by the lies and smears and shattered like brittle ice. The majority of governments collapsed and disappeared into obscurity.

The event took roughly little over six months. Like dominos to these poor, wretched souls, one by one the governments were seized by Tunisian clansmen. They were arrested from their previous functions and left as the bait for an incoming emperor. The will of the natives could put up little resistance. These incomers almost seemed like gods to the vulnerable delinquents they were. When the natives gazed towards them, they were staggered by their stupendousness. They wore paint against their shoulders, gold across their necks and electrifying red capes behind their backs. It was like a vision into the future… a future where their avian friends were a shimmering, golden Hercules.

At the turn of July, the coup was complete. The Americas, Europe, Africa, and the east had all been conquered and established with a Tunisian ruler. Anchises decided to migrate the seat of his imperial government to the Italian Alps. Deep within the ravines and mountain tops, they found a tall, towering castle. It rested across the snowy peaks and seemed like an almighty fortress to surpass all others. Dutifully the gallivanting crows called it “Extrenton”.

Anchises strolled across the stone of castle’s inner courtyard wearing a long, flowing red gown and a crown across his head. It was the coronation of the majestic emperor. Noblemen and priests lined either walls, all dressed in red and white linen gowns and throwing vernal fruits across the procession.

It was a mystical and magical performance. The procession of crows on either wing looked proud and astute. They relished in their newfound authority. They arched their necks upwards with an enthralling pride. At the top of their minds was an astonishing recognition at the accomplishments the Tunisian clan had achieved during such little time, and a coinciding breath for civility now their domination had arrived.

Anchises trudged as such further towards a throne at the back of the courtyard. It was a throne that was met by a white limestone shrine behind. The rumbling wailing of the citizens continued yet further as he headed towards the precipice. The sound rose into an almighty synthesis, like a hallowing ritual.

Yet, within an instance, all the sound stopped. The courtyard fell silent with a deathly anticipation. It was then that Anchises stood in front of the throne and began to address his clansmen.

“My fellow Tunisians!” He cried out wildly. “The passage of time has led our clan stupendously!” As the banquet hall cheered out, he continued further. “What was once thought of as a primitive a race – a race that only dwells in the darkness of caves or the dust of deserts – now sits atop the throne of the world.” He paced from side to side and struck out his hand to strengthen the power of his words. “They said birds were meant to sit in lakes… or that corn was enough to quell their appetites!” He continued further. “When it us who now control this globe.” He almost seemed to foam with adrenaline. “And us who can do with it as we please!”

Following his announcement, the bulk of crows disseminated back to their various lodgings and bedchambers. But the way of decorum had been outlined that evening. The perimeters and confines of their debauchery was demonstrated to the gods. The acceptance shown to all infinity. The standards of that species was expressed with a wholehearted conclusion.

Indeed, in the following years, many crows turned to newfound forms of entertainment. They spent their lives chained to drugs, reclining endlessly in opium dens. Such dens would crop up across the avian settlements. They sprang forth almost weekly, fuelling ample customers who were often seduced instantaneously.

Within these temple, melodic harp music soothed the crowd. With decadent tattoos etched across their bodies, many of the guests reclined in a subdued dream world. They had left the living world. They had surrendered themselves to the strength of the drugs. And now they passed through life not aware of their surroundings but having descended into a death-pit of the intoxicating narcotics.

Society continued in this way for several years. It continued in this way like a burgeoning pirate ship. Most of daylight business would come to a halt as most of the crows were collapsed in the opium dens or passed out from the debauchery of the night before. The running of society effectively collapsed. It was a general scrap and fight to find detritus from the courtyard stone with which to eat.

But, in effect, the crows didn’t care. They had sold their soul to the devil. They had shaken aside all comradery and now just sought to wreak vengeance on any other crow. The common shouts within this nation were “bugger off my food!” or “cuckoo, cuckoo, feisty me find my food!” It was a cesspit to say the least. A cesspit of detritus brandished across the land.

However, one morning, amidst the squabbling, a defiant crow mounted the rostra atop one of the spiralled towers above the Italian citadel. Here, he could look down upon the chaos. The space seemed empty, as if at one with the plight of humanity. The wind gushed across his face. But he didn’t care. He had witnessed enough of the debauchery and strove at last to be the nation’s saviour. He looked down once more at the towering descent beneath him. It circled beneath him like a withered wreck. It seemed as if he were speaking down into hell.

However, he plunged himself into his announcement. “All yee crows!” He cried at last. “Hear me now! Hear me now! Or else let your fate take another wicked turn!” He began to speak louder as with his growing confidence. “Long ago, across the lands of this Earth, wise men knew the reality of truth. They knew the reality of the vices of men!” He looked down again with piercing eyes. “It was written in the books and manuscripts of the ages the truth of our governments. It was written that absolute rule leads to destruction. It leads to the decline of the State and putrefaction of our society.”

At the sound of the crows mocking and ridiculing him below in the court, he continued adamantly with a stringent defiance. “I ask you, here right now,” continued the crow, named Julius, “to look at the destruction of foreign avian governments across the world. It is not because of natural causes, but because of our own actions. It is as a result of the wicked afflictions we have instigated!”

“Preposterous! Preposterous!” Were the general cries from below.

But Julius had an even stronger message. “The time to act is now!” He cried again. “This land knows no order. This land knows no civility!” He raised his voice with an ending plea. “It is because of the wretched defilement of foreign governments we enacted those many years ago. We must act now… or else so damn our souls!”

Most of the other Tunisian crows paid little attention. Rather they went back to feasting on smaller birds and their own nonchalant indifference. Indeed, life in this way continued for roughly another six months.

However, as the revolving pedestals of time gradually moved forward, the Tunisian birds began to notice changes in their society. Before long Anchises was displaced from his role as leader. The treacherous event happened at the hands of a gang of villainous brigands. Proclaiming there was no food or water in the citadel, the gang broke through the royal gate, killed the guards and slayed Anchises as he lay innocently in his bed.

As such, the gang proclaimed their own leader, Hector, as the newfound king of all Tunisians. Hector’s rule was met with disparities between policy and conduct and outbound chaos. He ended the long history of royal elections and rather chose his own henchmen as his government ministers.

Before long, however – in a form of coup – a treacherous detachment of Hector’s government rose up in defiance of his rule. They surrounded the royal residence and outnumbered those loyal to Hector with their own oligarchy. As a result, Hector was alleviated from his reign and murderously stabbed at the foot of the royal temple.

In the ensuing ecology, no leader was considered powerful enough to rule over the whole of the Tunisian clan’s empire. It was a factional free-for-all, where policy and guardianship were at the hands of mob rule.

The leading figures agreed that enough was enough. After decades of pure bloodshed, they agreed that something had to change. The climate was savage and the political round table looked like a frenzy of nails. However, several of the leading chieftains decided each of these villainous factions should arrange a time to convene – arrange at time, effectively, to solve their differences.

The bloodied strife of aged battles was expounded once more. Blighted, villainous giants amassed at a royal banquet hall within the Italian citadel. Brigands conversing with brigands was the theme of the day. It was an onslaught of all the great warriors of their time, leaving aside their swords to parlay in the name of the crow’s future.

Within the banquet hall, one of the chieftains, named Quentin, rose from his seat in an attempt to address the crowd. “My fellow Tunisians!” He proclaimed emphatically. “The history of our clan goes back many centuries.” He began his spiel with optimism but then began to descend to the simple truth. “However over the past years we have been beset with strife. Strife,” he continued. “Between the different factions of our society. I ask you now,” he announced cordially. “To introduce your clan and express your requests and acceptances in this mediation.” He took a sip of his drink and concluded his plea optimistically. “In effect, I hope that said discussions will put an end to your differences and we shall witness a unified Tunisia once again!”

The banquet hall reverberated with a round of applause. It was a round of applause that united the clansmen within the building. Subsequently, a man named Greggory, rose to his feet to put across the concerns of his particular faction. “As you may all know well,” announced the chieftain first. “Our faction was one of the contingents who spearheaded the migration across the globe. We are, as such, a proud faction imbedded in a long history. However,” he continued with a gasp. “We cannot let idle hunger putrefy our ideals across the lands!” He began to wave his arms around in demonstration. “Insolent fools fly over from the southern lands and wreak havoc amongst the ecosystems of our dear countries. It is simple hooliganism and not something we can abide by any longer!”

In agreement, a female crow, named Samantha stood up to argue for a similar understanding. “This land was once ripe with fertility. The glorious meadows flowed for miles blessing us with sacred feeding grounds. I propose,” she continued. “A renaissance in our lands and a renaissance in our society!”

Hearing such prophetic words, the banquet hall resounded with an intriguing opportunity for a particular crow. You see, a crow, named Daniel, had travelled extensively across the Mediterranean. He knew the sparkling turquoise waters and picturesque beaches and coves all too well. For decades they had furnished his health – nourishment as well – as if he were a spoilt jackel constantly on a spa day.

Immediately, he lunged upon the debate in an attempt to put his voice across. Rising from his feet, he would only be heard if he let out an enormous cry. In order to be given a spot, he would have to draw the attention of the chieftains emphatically. And so he shouted out wildly “here me now, hear me now,” and was left to address the crowd in result.

“I call your attention now!” Daniel cried proudly. “To motion a particular suggestion. You see,” he continued, albeit nervously. “I have travelled extensively across the Mediterranean. Of all the places I have been to, one of the countries I have visited has left me enamoured the most.” He uttered his final cry ecstatically. “That was, indeed, the country of Greece! Never have I seen a place so picturesque and healthy! Never have I seen a place so rich with wildlife and mountains!”

He began to move on to the purpose of his motion. “I therefore suggest that we travel to Greece to understand how and why this place is blessed with such a beauty. As such, we can then begin to improve our lands in its image. I believe it is the best option and ask yourselves to pledge to the motion!”

In fact, in a spell-binding turn of events, Daniel’s motion was met with a resounding applause. It was not only an applause but, further, many of the chieftains demanded that it be voted on immediately. In the subsequent turn of events, the motion was passed. The Tunisian clan, the chieftains professed, would venture to Greece without delay.

PART 3

The date was set for the voyage the following Thursday. The retinue of Tunisian clansmen would fly in their ancestral battle formation. It was a triangular charge that was reminiscent of the Tunisian “Red Arrows”. With a battalion of roughly 2,000 crows, there were those at the front who spear-headed the transgression. There were others, alternatively, who remained further back in and amongst the triangular alignment and relied upon the movement’s slipstream.

The journey took roughly eight hours and was rich with the Tunisians’ prophetic ambition. They were used to ruling the skies, they controlled the trade routes and now there were asserting their authority on this newfound venture.

At last, they landed at the western edge of the Peloponnese, close to the coast. There, they had suspected there would be bountiful coves and inclaves with which to gather their forces. The waters were a tranquil blue and many of the coves remained untouched with mesmerising areas that could be inhabited. Equally, they had heard of the legends of Olympia, which their scouts had said was nearby. They had said that it was the centre ground for pilgrims from across the Greek world to convene, saluting their athletical prowess.

The leading Tunisian at this point, Daniel, arrived with a royal tent already mounted to welcome him. It was a tall, regal edifice, erected at the centre of the campsite with the red royal insignia. Daniel flew down from his flight formation and flung open the draperies before marching in astutely.

There, he began to address the leading chieftains who had travelled the distance to Greece. “I would first like to thank you, my dear friends!” He cried purposefully. “For taking the time to venture to Greece!” He paced from side to side merrily. “As we speak our scouts are out searching for a trace of avian civilization.” He pointed towards the map of Greece behind him. “We have heard of legends dictating the presence of crows at the ancient site of Olympia not too far from here!” It is, under that light,” he continued professionally. “That I suggest we take a retinue of 700 crows to go and investigate inland… to go and investigate Olympia!”

“Aie! Aie!” Were the general shouts of the Tunisian chieftains. “Give us th’ time an’ we’ll blow th’ man down!” They continued.

The retinue of 700 crows therefore prepared for their journey inland of about 20 kilometres. They raised the crew, dressed themselves in battle armoury and readied themselves for the expedition onwards. It was agreed that Daniel would once again take the forefront, leading the battalion. Yet further, he was elected as the designated spokesperson if any avian natives were found.

They swept into the air like a futuristic space wagon, before launching away into the distance viciously. It was an almighty spectacle of black crows. The tumult of crows swooping away into a charge felt like a stampede so powerful it could eclipse the sun.

The land beneath them appeared sparse and bare. There were deep mountainous peaks with sharp ravines in between. The undulating gorges seemed etched viciously across the landscape. There were met and accompanied, further, with slight inlets of green pasture ground and forests.

Swooping in the beauty of a dolphin pod, they caressed and glided against the skies like the rush of a volcanic rocket. After an hour, they swung down to a halt across a flat, fertile meadow. From thenceforth, they trudged through the high green thickets of the Grecian countryside. They trudged searching for a sign of avian civilization.

***

After an hour of continuous marching through the Grecian thickets, they emerged at a peculiar entity in front of them. It was a tall, rising colonnade. The limestone grand rock appeared ethereal, like a colliding spectre in front of them. They trudged several metres further, peering into the wilderness in front of them.

They trudged hoping, yet on edge, further into this mystical environment. It was an opaque maze beguiling their senses – a place riven with snakes and insects. They were thrown off guard, unawares of a way out of this entrapment. The thickets were singing at them, taunting them in newfound ways.

Soon they began to see more limestone colonnade and edifices. They saw these rising structures as if they were arriving closer to some kind of civilization. It battered down across their minds, twinkling and mesmerising their souls. What could they do? And who out there could show them to the exit of this haunting?

Yet, within an instance, they stumbled across a clearing in the thickets. They emerged out of a shrouded cave and beheld the revelations in front of them. The land was open, as if a clearing had been made in the forest. Before them, most strikingly, were a grand assortment of buildings, mostly made of limestone slabs of rock. Perching above the buildings, was a much-enamoured flock of crows.

A crowd of them immediately swung down the from the buildings and approached Daniel and his forces as they arrived on the flattened ground. As his royal guards raised their swords, Daniel took to the forefront and began to introduce his clan.

“Greetings, fellow crows!” He exclaimed ardently. “We have travelled over land and sea, searching for the crows from the lands of Greece!” He continued staring in awe at the natives. “We have heard legends, you see, of the civility and bountiful triumphs of this nation! The repute and success of this society is famous across the world!” He then peered at the Grecian crows warmly. “Come forth,” he cried further. “And join with us Tunisian crows like the brothers and sisters we are!”

A Grecian crow, named Perseus, stepped forward from the line of crows and attempted to utter some words in reply. “Welcome, fellow crows!” He uttered at first politely. “We are flattered that you hold our civilization in such high esteem!” He paced from side to side, glancing back at his deputies here and there. “However we cannot allow a union between our two clans! You see,” he continued further. “It would diminish our ancestral bloodline and put an end to our customs as we know it!”

One of Daniel’s deputies, Beatrice, stepped forward to try and offer a suggestion. “We could institute an alliance nonetheless!” She intruded adamantly. “We Tunisians have bountiful lands across the globe and riches like no other! We can offer you untold treasures in return for your wisdom!”

“Do not seek to bribe us,” cried Perseus, viciously interrupting. “We are a learned and scholarly clan to whom it would not be received too well! Anyway!” He continued, turning his back. “We are a clan more accustomed to sporting contests. The like,” he continued. “Of the Olympic Games!”

Beatrice stepped forward once again and attempted to plead with the man. “Our clan is by no means a novice to these sporting contests. Why!” She continued. “We have hosted our own sporting contests all across our lands!”

“Well how’s about this!” Perseus cried in retort. “If your clan beats us at a sporting competition, we will offer you our wisdom free of charge. We have before us the stadium of Olympia. And if more of your athletes beat our athletes in all competitions, you shall have your victory!”

The confrontation did prompt each clan leader to return back to their troops. After a moment’s discussion between Daniel and his chieftains, the Tunisians decided that they would take Perseus’ offer. They would take the offer of sporting prowess like the bravado of lions they felt running rife through their veins. It was unsporting, nay a sign of cowardice, to reject such an offer. They thought immediately of the success their leading athletes would bring.

Consequently, the Tunisians sent one of their scouts feverously back to the coast to bring word of Daniel’s exploits. They were to inform the rest of the Tunisians that they should venture at once to Olympia. It was at the dark scowl of Daniel that they must do so. And that his royal insignia in this oncoming foray must not be disparaged.

Daniel, himself, declining time to rest, surmounted a small mountain to the side of this newfound avian settlement. Rising, tall pine trees that climbed the hill seemed to make the location feel hallowed. And he felt the numinous qualities of the sacred grotto. He had reached the top of the mound – and sat down on a slab of rock at the top – that the most peculiar of events arrived in front of him. It was the mystical revelation of a man named Pelops who appeared before Daniel as a spectre.

“I, Pelops, ancestor of the Grecian Kingdoms!” He cried abruptly. “Come before you now to disclose the secrets of our sporting competitions at Olympia! You see,” he continued. “It was I who first founded the games. It was I who first won and achieved glory! However,” he looked down at Daniel sternly. “You will not be able to do the same unless you listen to my instructions precisely!”

The spectre floated to the side of the mountain top and looked apathetically down at Olympia. “What you must do,” he said at last. “Is find enough myrtle to present your champions a crown of myrtle leaves in secret before each competition.” He turned around and floated affectionately towards Daniel. “If every myrtle crown is placed on each of your champion’s head, they will remain undefeated in any competition.” He gazed towards the other side of the mountain prophetically. “And, as such, you will then have won! And therefore be able to learn of all the wisdom the Grecian Kingdoms can offer!”

Daniel seemed struck in the celestial wisdom of the oracle. He acknowledged his wise words and ventured down towards the foot of the mountain. The oracle’s prophecy had struck a chord and his words burned deep in Daniel’s heart. Although with no certain prediction, the simple task of making crowns of myrtle leaves seemed like a small price to pay to ensure the victory of his clan. He sauntered back to his royal chambers and prepared for the athletic development.

***

Great sporting legends were brought up from the depths of the Tunisian empire. Enormous beasts were conjured from the abyss. Dark crows from the shadows were brought into the daylight. All of them were readied to do battle. And their campsite became a pit of sweat and muscular desire.

Daniel would circumvent his retinues of athletes. Great swathes of his campsite were turned on their heads and used as a practice ground for the Tunisian men. The area was divided between the different sportsmen, practising themselves for different competitions. It was the pride of their nation, and the chosen few strictly set themselves down to work with the attitude of fire.

Daniel, alternatively, was in his royal tent most of the time, mulling over the words of oracle he had seen atop the mountain. He could remember it well and knew the sincerity in the preacher’s voice. He found faith in its mysticism and judged that it may duly bring about the success of his clan.

He sent delegates to search the nearby lands for myrtle branches. With a total number of athletes under his command being over a hundred, he knew for-well of the necessity for swift organization. The right number of myrtle branches must be found on time and in full. The slightest slip-up could be detrimental. It could thwart their clan from the glory they had been so evidently promised.

He had therefore sent delegates only of the highest sort. And he eagerly awaited their return in his royal quarters. He would dedicate himself to minute sketches in the meantime. They were sketches that drew aboard his paper map in a soporific ponder. On other occasions, equally, he would consume himself with writing letters to far-away lovers.

The following day, the crowd of delegates swiftly returned at the Tunisian campsite. They passed straight away into the royal quarters, as a result of Daniel informing the guards in an attempt to preclude suspicion. They brushed across the tent’s draperies viscously and appeared before the king.

“My Lord!” Cried one of the delegates. “We have found great success with procuring myrtle leaves from the forest!” He extolled pleasantly. He then brought forth a document outlining their exerts. “We have located enough myrtle to construct over two hundred spectacular myrtle crowns. I suggest,” he continued. “That the right team begin to construct the crowns without delay!”

The news did, indeed, please Daniel. It pleased him so much that he knighted all the individuals. The award came right there and then. And they basked in their newfound acclaim. So too did the energy pulsate through the campsite. Glory was upon the Tunisians. And everyone wanted to relish in it.

Boxers became wrestlers and horse racers became chariot racers. The practice grounds that ensued knew only of their die-hard eagerness to win. The beating shouts of the days’ exertions flew back across their lands. It flew across their lands they had dominated for so long.

Over the coming week, the tournament was set to start. All the athletes were required to gather and register themselves officially.

But behind this beginning – and in tune with the heavens – was Daniel’s secret recipe. It was of course the secret crown recipe that he had been so spectacularly forewarned about. And he had thought of the most intriguing way to ensure its success.

Each night, over a week, he would ask each Tunisian competitor to present themselves in his royal quarters. There, within his royal chambers, Daniel would ask each athlete to place the myrtle crown on their head for several seconds, announcing at the same time the competition they were entered in. To avoid suspicion, Daniel claimed the action was simply a form of mystical premonition to bid the athlete all the best in the oncoming event. With little reason to doubt, this was accepted by each and every athlete.

When the tournament came, the Tunisians’ dominance was emphatic. They won across the board. They were victorious in sports from boxing to javelin throwing. In one disciple, for instance – the wrestling – a Grecian brute had a Tunisian poised on the floor. A moment later, the Tunisian, remembering the myrtle crown, sprung upwards with an almighty vengeance and hurled the impoverished Grecian across the ring. It was a sordid tale of dominance, where no relent was shown.

Most of the crowd stood astounded. Most of the crowd knew no longer where to put their betting slips. They gasped and cried stupendously at the amazement and enjoyed in the masterpiece the Tunisians were now setting forth. After the end of the week, after a barrage of Tunisian prowess, the organisers finally announced enough was enough and they should move onto the prize giving.

The prize giving was scheduled to be held by the chief organiser in charge – a one Hortensius Africus. In front of a crowd of bereaved Grecians or elated Tunisians, he mounted a plinth to offer a myrtle crown to the victorious competitors passing by. It took several minutes with over fifty victors altogether passing by to collect their myrtle crowns. However, with the trophies handed out, he began to address the crowd.

“Congratulations!” He exclaimed cordially. “To all those who took part in the Olympic Games!” Whilst the athletes held their medals, he continued onwards with his salute. “Over the past week, we have seen men, from all regions across the globe, battle it out in what is the pinnacle of sporting tournaments!” Why!” He continued passionately. “I witnessed wrestlers dive viciously across the sand, runners dowsed in sweat and chariot racers pushing themselves to the limit!”

He chuckled and continued absolutely. “It was a sporting contest to befit all sporting contests! And,” he looked delightfully at the crowd. “I congratulate you all once again for being part of the glorious occasion!”

As a round of applause erupted across the spectators, Hortensius continued putting forward his address diligently. “But there is another matter we must attend to!” He cried yet further intriguingly. “As you may well know,” he said proudly. “It was agreed that the native Grecians would disclose their legendary wisdom to the Tunisians if the Tunisians came out victorious in the sporting tournament. Well,” he announced empathically. “The Tunisians did indeed come out victorious over the course of all disciplines. I am therefore elated to say that in the coming days, the Grecians shall meet with the Tunisian king, Daniel, and reveal to him the sacred wisdom! It was the simple terms of our bargaining!”

“But, for now,” he continued fervently. “For now,” he said again. “It is time, my friends, for the great banquet!” Across the paving stones closer towards the temple of Zeus, was a courtyard filled with kraters of wine, roasted meats and courtesans seducing the wearied men. Hortensius gave one final cry. “Go, my friends, and feast and drink throughout the night,” he cried emphatically. “Feast until your hearts are content! It is your just deserts!”

What erupted was a cacophony of drunken men and women, who boozed like victorious squires. They relished the revelry under the dark night sky, which twinkled here and there with the stars looking down upon them. Scantily dressed women were tossed from side to side, swaying in the arms of drunken men. Flagons of wine were launched whimsically across the courtyard from all directions, while a crowd of tenors berated the crowd with music as they continued in much the same way throughout the night.

It was, amongst this crowd of incorporated insanity, that the three legendary Spaniards – Terence, Jane and Kate – found themselves living within the Grecian community. They were still crows. For several years they had toured from place to place, exploring different clans. They explored different clans that would accept guests and give them respite from their long journeys. At times it could be difficult and harsh. Many clans feared newcomers and they were always second best when nesting month arrived. Equally, few trusted European crows after the dominance of the Tunisians.

However, the triplet had become more and more used to the treatment and mannerisms of crows. They had become so adept at understanding their common species that they found comfort in their company and devised ways to influence other crows’ thinking. They began to relax and almost became like avian hippies, who travelled absently from place to place.

Over the past two years they had toured across the Mediterranean searching for festivals to attend. The summertime was the most profitable. It enlivened the spirits of the crows and prevented the rain from stalling their vigorous feathers.

They had therefore been at the festival of Olympia for the past month. And were relishing in the entertainment it offered. They would take the cups of wine when they come. They would applaud from the spectators’ enclosure and place bets on their favourite athlete. When the end of the day came, they would relax around the campfire singing songs merrily into the night.

At this moment now, the triplet were absorbed by the ecstasy of the final banquet. They, themselves, would snatch upon flagons of wine and dance around to the sound of the harpist and tenors. At one point, Terence exclaimed, “the merry Grecian gods have sent me into the clouds!” Jane, alternatively, swaying gently to the sound of the harp, cried in reply, “my beauty is unlocked in the sweetness of these melodies!”

They continued enjoying themselves lavishly for the rest of the evening. It was a party to top all parties – the pinnacle of the world – and not too respectable to miss either. The contingents chanted their names in glory. They partied throughout the night, until finally collapsing down on a linen sheet below the Grecian trees.

***

Most of the pilgrims woke in a slumber on their linen rags the following day. The morning sunshine filtered through the tree leaves. The smell of pollen swarmed across their noses. They could equally hear the rumbling of crickets and other insects amidst the tall green grass ayonder.

Jane, Kate and Terence stretched onto their feat leisurely and wrapped up their assortments into a pale, linen satchel. They placed all their utensils in the bag, before placing the entire bag gently aside the trunk of the tree they had slept under.

From thenceforth, the triplet headed towards one of the communal meeting grounds at the centre of Olympia. It was a gentle five-minute walk… a walk that seemed pleasant with the sun beating down across their necks.

At the centre of Olympia, they handed over a few coins to a merchant, who handed each of them a loaf of bread. Munching on the sour dough, they made their way to a crowd that was gathering in the main square. There, the crowd was gathering to witness the announcement of a rhapsode, who stood tall at the back of the town square.

As the triplet munched on their bread, the rhapsode began to announce a story – a story, it seemed, about the history of their species. Rising above a platform and raising his arms in gesticulation, he began his intuitive lecture… a lecture that would enthral many of the crowd.

“As you may know,” announced the rhapsode. “It was not in Greece nor Tunisia that our avian species began. The beginning, in fact,” the rhapsode exclaimed. “Was in a faraway land far different to our lives as we know them today!”

And so began the story of the rhapsode. “Once upon a time,” he said. “In the far-away land of Japan, two crows had fallen across the skies from the land of the gods. With food running sparse in the realm of the gods, they had been sent on a task to bring civilization to Earth.

They arrived on Honshu island in Japan, and, at first, were the only two crows on this planet. For weeks, they would gather themselves in the dark caves of Japan. They would feed off fruit and the scarce numbers of insects. However, before long, the crows had grown to the size of gods, and were, therefore, too large just to survive off their previous scanty diets.

However, they looked at each other and were mesmerised by their backs. They were plump, rich with feathers and enthralled the crows with wonder about what they were and what purpose they were required for.

At last, one of the crows, named Perseus, said enough was enough. He pressed that both of them would soon die from starvation if they didn’t find adequate food. As such, he proclaimed that he would venture out of the cave. He said he would venture out of the cave in order to go and find the right food.

The other crow, named Cynthia, begged him not to go. She said there was nothing out there other than a barren wasteland. She shouted at him fervently, pleading that it was a pit of hell and he’d never return.

However, Perseus couldn’t stand to wait any longer. One morning, he shoved aside the rubble of stone and trudged towards the burgeoning light in front of him. With a nervous anticipation, he arrived at the exit of the cave.

With a simple step, before him beheld the glorious blue sky blazing down at him. Plains of pleasant green grass and trees in the distance shone forth in a glorious revelation. The landscape stretched for hundreds of miles. There were undulating hills and valleys rich with ravines that snaked the peaks with idyllic rivers in between.

He gasped in its wonder. He gasped so much so that he began to cry. He was overwhelmed with emotion, overwhelmed at the wonders of the revelation. He gazed ecstatically at the expanse for several minutes further, seeking to take in all the blessings and beauty without any delay.

But something was nagging at him further. The dark feathers aboard his back weighed down upon him heavily… and he was still none the wiser for what purpose they rested there. But they were flapping. The started to flap heavier and heavier. The wind around him brushed passed like he could float in the air. But he felt a sudden adrenalin throbbing through his body. Without thinking, he leapt up into the air before his wings carried him aloft across the skies.

Astounded by this wonder, he immediately set a course back to the cave to inform Cynthia of his revelation. He flapped his wings ardently as he arrived at the entrance to the cave. Thereupon, he could see Cynthia across the stone, sleeping in the darkness.

Cynthia woke up with a rattle. Perseus, ecstatic as a result of the truth he had discovered, arched down and insisted that she must venture out of the cave at once. Not expecting much, Cynthia, at last, agreed. They both strolled towards the exit hand in hand.

Cynthia was equally mesmerised. She was astounded by the beauty of the landscape, this time at wonder of the wildlife frolicking through the marshes at the foot of the valleys. A hippopotamus could be seen crouching in the wetland, while a flock of flamingos all stood studiously in the middle of a lake.

Seeing his friend in awe, Perseus went a step further. He turned around and uttered the most ardent of things. “The feathers you find on your back,” he exclaimed anxiously. “Are not just there for mere decoration. But rather,” he announced studiously. “To give you the means to fly! Yes! Yes!” he cried further. “To fly like the gods!”

With Perseus’ instructions, Cynthia was able to launch herself off the mountainside and into the air. It was a spectacular occasion. Before long both of them were flying together in the air.

Cynthia started to become audacious and try out new flying mechanisms. She would twist and turn like a phoenix. She would swoop up into the air, before duck diving downwards like a seagull. Perseus alternatively, was hovering in the air scanning the landscape below to gage his bearings.

Before long, however, Cynthia’s audacity was becoming a closely held indictment. Perseus warned her not to travel too close to the sun. He warned her lest she get burnt from the sun’s rays. None of this was heeded by the ambitious female. None of this was heeded by she who rather sought to be back in Olympus. After several minutes flying high close to sun, Cynthia’s body was burnt and shrivelled. As such, she dropped down from the sky and began a thunderous fall to the ground.

When Perseus arrived at the ground and approached Cynthia’s body, she was all but gone from the land of the living. He caressed her in his arms and wept at the savage lost they had endured. He was so upset that there and then he burst into a phoenix. He burst into a flaming phoenix, electrified with red fires. As such, he launched into the air with red flames, leaving a trail of fire and ash behind him.

Consequently, Perseus went into hiding and it was allotted to newfound crows, sent down from Olympus, to populate the planet instead. Yet, as such, Perseus is still heralded today as the first avian ancestor. He is heralded as the first creature to fly!”

Most of the crowd seemed struck in amazement by story of the rhapsode. Many, who had sat down on the floor, now heaved themselves upwards and dusted off the white sand from their tunics. They returned to their tasks and duties, warmed with joy from the sensuous anecdote.

Yet the afternoon was by no means finished. As promised, Perseus ascended the rostra and this time began his announcement regarding the disclosure of the Grecians’ ancient wisdom to the Tunisian crows. He professed that he had planned to have the meeting in the late afternoon when the heat from the sun was more bearable. Equally, he continued further, he was happy for the procedure to take place. The Grecians, it seemed, were satisfied that the Tunisians had come out victorious overall in the athletic games.

Perseus, therefore, duly ascended the rostra and began to address the crowd. Firstly, he stared across at the ragged garments of a collection of impoverished crows on the left side in front of him. He then pondered to himself, before uttering an announcement. “The secret to a successful state,” he professed. “Is not in the gold or treasures of their privy chamber.” He stumbled slightly before regathering himself. “But the nature of science that a certain society can understand. Here, at Olympia,” he cried heartily. “We esteem athleticism and sporting chivalry. It is what gives us our health in the form of healthy exercise!”

He stared across the crowd intriguingly. “If you understand,” he continued. “The muscles and corpus of a crow. Then you have unlocked the mysteries to our species!” He then stared at the Tunisian contingent on the right side. “My dear Tunisians!” He extolled. “That will give you the means to defend yourself! That will give you the means to blossom as a society!”

Yet with that announcement only just having been heard, a dark cloud swarmed over the town of Olympia. It towered over the sky, descending all underneath it into darkness. The blue skies became opaque, a chill came across the Grecians and it looked as if their world was descending into Hades’ underworld. The menace had come. The great plague of birds had met their sinister outcrop.

A fear ran through not only the Grecians, but all who rested there that day. Their day-to-day lives of simple farming and cleaning became turned on its head. What was now upon them a was a very fight to save their freedom. For the great imperium had arrived. The great imperium had arrived. All shuddered at its menace.

Daniel, on the other hand, had grown confident over the duration of his stay in Greece. In the light of the Grecians’ humble revelations, he thought he had a newfound impetus to rule over his subjects… a new hope in the destiny of his clan.

The Imperium, however, had initially sprung from Tunisia but now operated as a great council, whose seat was in southern France. They were in command of an almighty army, which breathed fear into all other clans. They were the highest authority on any dispute across the globe. Effectively their rule knew no boundaries.

The best efforts of all other clans was to profess their concerns and try and reason with the Imperium. However, that was no soft task. Great citadels and towns had been pillaged out of disloyalty to the Imperium. Their rule was met with an iron hand, and everyone tried to keep busy and active lest they induce their wrath.

Daniel, however, had some attachments, being himself a Tunisian. He knew their language well. He knew their customs equally as well. As such, he sent a scout party to intercept the arrival of the Imperium. He ordered the scouts to inform the Imperium that they request a time and place to parlay on the eastern side of Olympia. It was a cacophonous and brazen-faced statement, a statement that befitted he tangling nerves running rife amongst his troops.

The Imperium agreed. They replied that a rendezvous would be acceptable. They informed Daniel’s scouts that the eastern side of Olympia would also be suitable.

All thus seemed affable thus far, and, before long the two forces pitched up across a meadow. Gratuitously, the number of contingents were roughly similar on both sides. Daniel had 500 men and the Imperium roughly the same. They therefore retired to Daniel’s royal tent where the Imperium wanted to negotiate.

Daniel immediately sat down and uttered some words to the imperial spokesperson. “There is absolutely no way you can interrupt us from our mission here in Greece,” he cried ardently. “We are on a mission to purify our clan. And the slightest mistake might be detrimental to our survival!”

The imperial spokesperson interrupted angrily. “It is not your right to travel freely wherever you go!” He bludgeoned forcefully. The imperium is in charge across the globe and you must inform them when any army is sent overseas!”

“The Imperium go can fuck itself!” Denounced Daniel viciously. “Why should I respect them!” He blurted loudly again. “What difference are these people from my own clan! And what right do they have to imprison our glorious nation!”

“You best withdraw yourself and refrain from insulting the Imperium,” the spokesperson pressed sternly. “No one is above the law of the Imperium no matter wherever they are on the planet!” He reached forward in his chair sinisterly. “I suggest you watch your tongue before hurling insults at men twice as powerful as you!” The spokesperson looked devilishly across at the guards. “There are many,” he continued. “Who perceive you as nothing more than an insolent young squire.”

Daniel looked peeved – but ardently enflamed – and reached forward to rebut the spokesperson’s interrogation. ‘I see no army at your command… nor trophies at your quarters!” He looked across with his own ignominy. “You yourself are a mere servant, acting on behalf of someone much stronger!”

“Yet!” Cried the spokesperson. “I have the means to crush your battalion! I have the means to crush your clan!”

Daniel turned around and spat his words towards the spokesperson. “I don’t care who you are! Get the fuck out of my quarters and take your army elsewhere!”

“It is a war that you are calling to cry!” Rebutted the spokesperson swiftly. “Well good luck to you!” He turned this back to glance at Daniel one more time, before reaching for the exit to the tent. “Consider our two nations at war!” Was his final cry.

***

The Tunisians and the Imperium were plunged into a bloody war. What had been purely sportsmen over the preceding few weeks, were men who were now forced to put on their battle armour. They flew up into the sky like returning action heroes, facing the onslaught that was to ensue.

Above in the clouds they began fighting and grappling. They grappled with their claws, chomped viciously with their beaks, and tried to rip apart the bones of their counterparts.

Xerxes, son of David, was fighting and entangling himself amongst the chaos. A moment here when he managed to grapple a crow’s feathers with his claws and moment there when an Imperium crow sliced through two Tunisians.

The battle was savage. Blood was spilt on both sides. The circling frenzy that it was knew of shattering lacerations and the untimely death of many crows.

Terence, Jane and Kate were forcefully engrossed into the conflict. The spectators of the Olympics, equally, were seized upon by the Imperium… thought of as people who were complicit in the Tunisian’s guilt. They arched down and attacked them without any respect for the sanctity of civilians. “Run for your lives! Run for your lives!” Were the common shouts Terence uttered, while Jane shouted back, “run like you’ve never run before!”

The Spanish triplet were retreating from the battleground when a peculiar individual stopped them in their tracks. It was an unusually tall crow, who wore spectacles across his eyes, and had large black cape behind him. He reached over to the triplet and ushered them under his arms.

“Look at these people!” He cried at last. “These are no type of animals nor humans. They are a plague!” As Jane, Kate and Terence looked stunned at his intrigue, he continued further. “I have studied the crows for tens of years and discovered a way to turn them back to humans. I have discovered a ray to rid them of their filth and depravity!”

He ushered them further up the hill away from the battlefield. “You must come with me at once!” He cried forcefully. “And we will travel to the to top of a mountain where there is a Buddhist monastery. There resides a sacred gong that will turn the crows back to humans across the entire globe! Come with me!” He continued viciously. “We must make haste straight away!”

The retinue did immediately follow the intriguing crow in his pursuits. They swept up into the air and formed into a triangular battle formation. The journey was roughly twenty minutes. But the wind was brisk and the chill of the autumn bore down upon them.

The light was fading. But that didn’t stop them. Before long, they circled up to a platform strutting out from the mountain. It was a platform that was flanked by a sheer drop of about 500 metres the other side. However the legendary Buddhist temple rested profoundly across the level stone.

There, positioned across a viewing point looking out across the mountain range, was the legendary gong that they had been so desperately searching for. No one seemed to be in the vicinity, so they stepped over towards the metal ornament casually, incensed inside to bash it immediately.

Holding the drumstick in her hand, it was Jane who was about to beat the gong fervently with all her might. She reached back ready to hit it with all her force before something very strange happened. Something very strange happened in the form of Anchises, the ancestral leader of the Tunisia appearing mystically before her as if a ghost.

He charged right into the vicinity of her face. And began to utter some words. “Ask yourself, my dear!” He cried. “Whether it will all be worth it to become a human once again… a moribund ape… rather than to fly like the gods!” He looked at her devilishly in the eyes. “Ask yourself whether you’d like to be chained to that ancestral decorum! Rather than witness the greatest empire of all time!”

“You’re an irrelevant plague!” Cried Jane adamantly in reply. “It is only disease and death that you want!”

“No!” Denounced Anchises. “We only want to rule the world!”

And with that, in the confusion, Jane slammed the drumstick against the gong and the spectre of Anchises evaporated into dust. Indeed, with the sound of the gong, every anthropomorphic bird across the world was stopped and changed into their previous human selves. As such, they laid down their weapons and lived happily ever after.

THE END

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