At first, people thought it was a trick of timing. Birds sometimes follow people, swooping down when food is nearby or when a shiny object catches their eye. But this was different.
Every morning, without fail, the boy rode his small red bicycle to school. And every morning, they came.
Dozens of black crows circled above his head, gliding silently in the air like shadows attached to him. Some flew low, their wings almost brushing the handlebars, while others perched on streetlights, watching his path with unblinking eyes.
No one in the neighborhood could explain it. The boy never looked at them, never tried to shoo them away. He simply pedaled, face calm, eyes forward, as though it were perfectly normal to be escorted by a dark cloud of wings.
Teachers began noticing the birds waiting on the school fence, clustered in rows, cawing softly until he left at the end of the day. Parents started pulling their children closer when he passed, whispering about omens and curses.
One afternoon, a brave neighbor asked the boy why the crows followed him. He paused, adjusted his backpack straps, and said quietly:
“They’re just making sure I get there safe.”
When pressed further, he added something that made the neighbor shiver.
“They’ve been doing it since the accident. Ever since I got back.”
No one asked again. And the crows never left him.
