As The Crow Flies

After the end, there wasn't much left. At least, that's what my dad says. A thick manuscript lays on his desk, surrounded by piles and piles of dusty books. If you met him, you might describe him as odd. I would agree that not only is he odd, but also extremely paranoid. If you read this manuscript, you'll find the author's name inscribed as: Felix Hob, Director of Literature and Mythology, Highland College. Ever since my dad was stripped of his title and fired from his job, he believes that his colleagues and students are out to steal his research. If his name doesn't ring a bell, then his story might. Dad was a well-respected and accomplished professor, who had worked his way up to become the director of the most prestigious and biggest fields at Highland College. Everyone wanted to take his classes. He was invited to promotional dinners and was liked by everyone he came across. Until he predicted the end of the world.

It all began on the morning of November 18, almost a year ago. I remember waking up to the house being completely silent. Although it's just the two of us, my dad would always have some sort of jazz music blasting from inside his office, or would be making his 80th cup of coffee. That morning, I opened the door and went out into the hallway. Nothing. During this time, we lived in one of the residential apartments at the college, which was only one floor and had few rooms. The door to my dad's office was closed, but when I tried the door, it swung open. Slumped at his desk and surrounded by crumpled papers, was my father. As I moved a little closer, I realized that he had been writing something. But it wasn't a thesis or essay paper. Inside several notebooks, scribbled in blue ink, was the phrase "As the crow flies." As I moved around the mess of papers, I accidentally stepped on a rolled-up paper ball. My dad's head snapped up off the desk as soon as he heard it, and I will never forget the look he gave me. His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated. Pure, cold terror was written all over his face. His expression changed quickly, and I watched as he attempted to smile.

"Hey kid. You scared me. Did you want some toast?" He asked.

He got up to make some breakfast. He tried to act normal for a few days, but I could tell he wasn't sleeping. At first, I tried to forget that anything had ever happened. But that didn't last long. Eventually, the dream wouldn't leave him alone. He began to walk around the house at night, muttering to himself. Every night for weeks I could hear him talking, and in the morning he would be exhausted. I never mentioned it, but I was incredibly worried. For days on end he wouldn't go to work, until one morning when he came into my room and sat down. He had papers from his notebook sticking out of his work bag and carried more in his arms. It was a Saturday, and normally he only went to his office for a few hours to see if anyone needed help. But not this morning. As he sat on my bed, he looked over one of the papers he was holding, and wordlessly handed me one. Drawn on it were several shadowy images of birds and a murky sky. Scribbled on any other parts of the paper were the words "The end", and the repeated phrase, "As the crow flies." I looked up at him, confused. He stood up and was about to walk out when I spoke.

"Dad? What happened? I've heard you walking around at night. I know you haven't been sleeping. I'm worried."

He turned with his hand on the doorknob, and proceeded to come back into my room. He began to tell me everything, staring past me to look out the window of my room as he did so, as if he were in a trance. He told me that a few weeks ago he had seen the end of the world. The dream started with him standing outside, and Everything was quiet. He was alone. The sky looked strange, and was a color he had never seen before. My dad was looking at the sky when he heard a squawk and noticed the crows in the trees. They were looking at him. A crow opened its mouth, but instead of letting out a caw, it was a roar of sharp noise. My dad shut his eyes, then clapped his hands over his ears and tried to block it out, but couldn't. Images flashed in his mind as the sound grew louder and louder. Buildings collapsed. The ground began to split. In that single moment, the world fell. When everything had fallen to pieces, with my dad standing in the rubble, the dream ended. It always started and ended the same way, with him completely alone.

When he told me what had happened in the dream, I realized that he completely believed in it. My dad had always been factual, relying on logic and science to explain everything, so this was really unsettling. Things became even worse when he lost his job. Late one night, I woke up to the sound of hushed voices coming from the kitchen. I crept out of my room and inched down the hallway as the voices got louder. I looked around the corner and saw my dad sitting at the table with someone who worked at the college. My dad had his head in his hands, and empty coffee cups were scattered around him. The person, who I had seen on campus before, I was talking to him.

"Felix, I don't know what to tell you. You've been absent from several classes with no explanation, and we just don't have enough people working to cover for you. You haven't graded anything for weeks. Parents are furious. I told you that we might have to cut your salary, but I think it's too late for that." She pulled out a familiar piece of wrinkled paper with scribbled drawings on it. "And what is this? The board got wind that you've been passing out these papers to students when you're in class, and in the hallways. Students have come to me reporting you muttering, completely unfocused during class, and walking out unexpectedly over the last few weeks. Do you have any explanation for this? If you can't keep it together, we really have no choice but to let you go. I'm sorry Felix, but you're becoming a danger to yourself, your students, and your kid."

A moment passed, but my dad didn't move. He stayed silent, and it was almost like he hadn't heard a single word she had said. The woman waited, sighed, and got up from the table. She gathered her things, opened the door, and walked out.

As you can probably imagine, my dad was fired almost immediately after that. We had no choice but to leave campus, and drive a few hours to a small house my dad had found. That's where we've lived ever since. As soon as we moved in, my dad started to write. He wrote about his dream, getting fired, and how the dream has tormented him for months. He tried to get it published as an informative novel, but no one would take it. No one believes him.

It's now November 15. My dad didn't have the dream for two weeks, and was finally beginning to calm down. But early this morning, he burst into my room and told me that he was going to get supplies, and that he had the dream again. I was so used to him acting panicked that I ignored him and fell back asleep, not realizing how dark it still was outside. When I woke up again later, I tried to find him, but the house was empty. I went downstairs and out the front door to see if his car was gone. The first thing I noticed was the silence. I couldn't hear any cars on the road nearby. Everything was still. The sky was purple, and the clouds were black. Out of nowhere, the wind began to pick up. It howled and shook the trees behind our house. I began to hear rustling, and the sounds of squawking. It got louder and louder, drowning out the sounds of the wind. I pressed my hands over my ears, but there was no use. The sound had wormed its way into my brain, and I fell to my knees. Hundreds of crows began to rush past me, flying as fast as they could. As they began to vanish, I thought it was over until the rumbling started. The ground began to shift underneath my feet, splintering apart. I recognized what my dad had seen in his dream. I realized that the crows had served as a warning for what was coming. The end was here, and we were too late to stop it. As the crows flew, they brought destruction with them.