Late at night, a crow outside my window spat out a human eyeball right in front of me.
I jumped up to call the police, terrified, but all I got was a busy signal.
I went to get the phone belonging to the obsessive, boyish-looking performer I managed.
He suddenly stood up and stared straight at me.
One hand pointed toward the window.
I looked.
The crows filling the sky were all crashing into our glass.
Their dead bodies covered the window, blood and feathers smeared across it.
I grabbed his phone.
This time the call connected, but what came from the other end was a crow’s piercing screech!