Chapter Text
|-Monday morning, March 18th, 2024. Dobo Hall, University of North Carolina at Wilmington-|
I... don't know what to make of this. How did it end up behind my computer monitor? Hell, how did this get into my office? I keep the room locked whenever I'm not here. This shouldn't have been possible. And yet... here we are. Going off of the patterns, or rather lack there of, it looks to belong to a carrion crow, Corvus corone, but it's too big. Carrion crows are on average ~50 cm in length and their wingspans are close to 100 cm at most. With the size of this feather, I'm thinking whatever animal left this is closer in size to a raven. But again, the way the feather is shaped and the patterns look more like a carrion crow. Then there's the pressing question: What is a Old World crow doing here in North Carolina? The only place I can think they'd be is the zoo but that's over in Asheboro. And I don't even know of they have any exhibits that feature corvids. This just doesn't make sense. I set the feather down in a drawer on my desk and shut it before running my hands over my face.
What do I do? I'm lost. What do I have today?
I look to my schedule and see what is lined up. It's Monday, so not much until the afternoon. Biology labs. I could get some paperwork done, get progress going on my thesis... But that damn feather keeps occupying my mind. It's like it's something I shouldn't know exists. As if I'm losing my mind the more I think about it, let alone look at it. But I need to know. So against my better judgement, I pull it back out. I turn it over in my hands a few times, taking in the luster it has.
How? That is gold. The entire feather seems to be made out of it, not covered or gilded. Yet it feels as light as a crow feather should. And it's still warm. Meaning that whatever left this was still alive when it got plucked. But how would something like this even get plucked? I doubt it would like being handled. Especially with that kind of intent. I run my finger along the side. It's odd... It doesn't feel like metal. Feels exactly like a feather. I also take note on how it's doesn't really move. No deformation whatsoever. Which only adds to my confusion. So much about this just doesn't make sense...
I decide to let rational take over and put the feather away again. I can't get anymore distracted than I have been. I need to focus. I turn on my monitor and start working. Studying pelicans and their evolution. It's quite interesting as I had to go back to the evolution of birds as a whole which happened in the Jurassic. Really fascinating stuff. Maybe after all this is over I'll actually study corvids seriously.
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Who am I kidding? That's not gonna happen. Crows and ravens creep me out. Too loud. Too dark. And too smart. Way too smart for their own good. I don't want to this about this anymore. Not when I have a thesis to write.
|-Monday Afternoon, March 18th, 2024. Long Leaf Park, 314 Pine Grove Drive-|
Afternoon run finished. Now? I rest. And this park is pretty damn good spot to do just that. Looks like it has a lot of benches. We got the sun out in the sky, nary a cloud in sight and he weather is perfect. We got the beach not too far and the aquarium is only 20 miles away. What more could a guy ask for? I could do a lot while I'm here in Wilmington. A lot that can put me at ease. A lot that I'm already doing to relax. So why... Do I still feel... those damn eyes on me? I can't shake them wherever I go. Not since yesterday morning. I felt them when I woke up. I felt them when I was in the shower. And I felt them today while I was running. Every dark alley I see them, red and intense. It's driving me mad. Everywhere I go... those damn eyes are following... There's gotta be something I can do. Or maybe it's just my mind fucking with me. Sleep deprivation can do numbers on ya and that shit will last for weeks. That has to be it. So that I'm not wasting time, I start to head back to my car, still weary from the feeling of being watched. I just want it to stop. I get in, start the engine and start heading back to Maddy's apartment. Maybe this time I'll be able to relax.
The drive is calm. Too calm. I don't like this. Something could happen at any moment and fuck everything up. Just get back. Just get back. Don't focus on anything else. Definitely don't look at the red dots down that darkening street. Not a good idea. Psyche already has enough shit to deal with.
I manage to get back with no issues. Other than the feeling of being watched, of course. Something tells me that won't go away anytime soon. I get up to third floor, room 3G and enter. Already I'm starting to feel less tense, that is until a very distinctive southern drawl snaps me out of my head.
"You doin' alright? You seem a little strung out." I look and see Bo standing by his door, a look of worry on his face.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit winded." I respond, not wanting to make him worry anymore.
"Winded from what? Seein' a ha'nt? You lookin' paler than a ghost hisself." He then says. Honestly, I'm surprised no one has noticed yet. I look like I've been drained of blood. Have been since yesterday.
"I do?" I ask, trying not to give away the fact that I do, in fact, know.
"Lawd have mercy, you any whiter, and I could see plumb through ya." He says through that thick accent of his. How anyone is able to fully understand this man I don't think I'll grasp, but I'll try. I go to speak a response but Bo is already moving. He heads to the kitchen and gets a glass. I watch as he fills it with water, at which point he comes back to me and hands me the glass.
"Here ya go, now. Might be just what you're lookin' fer." He says, outstretching his arm to hand me the glass of water. I take it and begin drinking. Won't lie, it's quite refreshing, especially since I forgot to bring any with me today. It helps to clear my mind. Maybe I can finally put this "crow" business behind me. I hand the glass back to Bo, who takes note about how color is returning to my face.
"Well, I'll be. That's a sight better right cheer." He says, happy to know I'm feeling better.
"Yeah, I guess." I then respond, thankful for some somewhat quick thinking. But despite this, the uneasy feeling remains. Nothing specific, just a general feeling of... something. I can't tell what. Don't know if I want to find out. Doesn't help when Bo says one more thing before slipping back into his room.
"Take it easy now, ya hear? Not every bird sings a sweet song."