KRAAARRRK !!!!!!

KRAAARRRK !!!!!!

Leon pulled his flimsy coat tighter around his shoulders, breathing out a cloud of vapour into the frigid autumn air. He looked skywards for the source of this disturbing and harsh sound.

KRAAARRRK !!!!!!

Was it an omen? It certainly was ominous and so many things had presented themselves as omens in the past week. But Leon could not figure out what that stark cry from the sky could mean. Procrastination had held him in that spot, freezing and leaning against his wooden staff for several hours. He was afraid to go, afraid to stay. Was the calling crow beseeching him to begin the journey or warning him not to go? How was he to know? He was no fool and he knew there was no middle ground, no third possibility.

His hand trembled as he gripped his staff tighter. He looked down at his unmoving feet. Oh, if only he could employ his hands and feet to decide. They were his tools for action. His brain was in swirling turmoil: useless. The air around him grew a little colder. Was that rumbling sound an indication of thunder in the distance?

If he stayed where he was he could remain innocent of any painful reality to be faced. But was that a good thing? Perhaps the journey’s end would reveal his fears to be unfounded. This would be a happy thing, But what if? What if his destination cancelled out all possibility of hope and delivered to him a reality that destroyed the innocence of not knowing? Two choices: the choosing of one option would brutally murder the other.

KRAAARRRK !!!!!!

It was a harsh and brittle sound with a razor-sharp edge that could cut into flesh. Unlike the pleasant little birdsong on the trees of his memories, this cry was emitted on the wing and therefore took on a reverberant tone of the cold autumn atmosphere. It was not a sound to be ignored. Leon accepted the omen and placed one foot ahead of the other. He was committed, one step inevitably follows the other.

Storm clouds had created
A curtain of despair
But when he reached the clearing
He found no others there
He stood alone for hours
Beneath the rising sun
And as it reached its zenith
He knew no one would come

He stood astride the crossroads
And watched the sun depart
Indecision held him
But the journey had to start
A full moon rose to guide him
And he followed in its wake
This was the strangest journey
He’d ever had to make.

As he walked he knew what he would find
All he cherished and loved, disappeared
As he turned into the moonlight
It was clear, it was just as he had feared

These are strange times
With no road signs
No Supply lines
Along the way

These are strange days
Such a strange place
Where there’s no trace
Of yesterday

These are strange days
In the last phase
Of the old ways
We used to share

These are strange times
Very strange times