TOTEM

Genre: Horror

 

 

 

TOTEM

By Randy Romero

 

 

The ominous crow was perched on a thick, long branch outside Mitch Kramer’s bedroom window. Its slim, straight beak pointed in his direction, like an accusing finger. Sharp enough to peck his eyes out if it had the inclination, and if it could get to him, but all the windows were shut and locked tight. It stared intently with its unfathomable dark brown eyes, watching him closely.

It’s staring right at me, he thought.

Caw, caw, caw, it bellowed from its perch.

Mitch rolled on his side, so his back was facing the window.

It’s just a crow, Mitch thought. A single, solitary crow. It’s perfectly harmless. So why did it’s presence make Mitch feel so tense?

To the superstitious, crows are never a good sign. They are typically considered a bad omen or are associated with death or bad luck. And Mitch Kramer was definitely the superstitious type.

But there was something else about it that troubled him. Something he remembered from his Aunt Carol.

Caw, caw, caw.

It let out another harsh cry, seemingly trying to get his attention.

He rolled onto his other side, so he was once again facing the window. Its talons dug deep into the branch as it stared into the window, affixed on Mitch. Its stare was strangely hypnotic.

He unlocked the window, slid it up, and banged against the windowsill and shouted to try and scare it away. But the crow refused to budge.

He slammed the window shut and locked it. Fed up and tad unnerved, he closed the venetian blinds and crawled back into bed.

Caw, caw, caw, it screeched outside his window.

The crow conjured up memories from Mitch’s childhood. Aunt Carol had a knack for scaring him witless as a kid. She would tell him urban legends, like the one about the guy with a hook for a hand, stalking teenagers outside their parked car. Or the story about the babysitter receiving harassing phone calls from some creep imploring her to check the children. That one scared him the most.

But it also reminded him of something else; Alfred Hitchcock’s classic, The Birds. It had scared him senseless as a child. He was shocked by the film itself, and shocked his mom had even let him watch it in the first place. But it was actually his aunt who had offered him comfort at the time and alleviated his fears, rather than adding to them for a change.

She assured him not to fear any of nature’s creatures, whether it be a bird or a black cat, or even an insect or a reptile.

She had a special term for nature’s creatures. She called them totems. When Mitch asked her what a totem was, she explained that they were ghosts or spirits of those who had passed on, manifested as living, breathing animals.

She assured him that totems were not necessarily a bad thing. It meant that your loved ones were always with you in some way, watching over you in unassuming forms. Mitch likened it to reincarnation, and that thought brought him comfort rather than fear.

Was the crow a totem? Or was it an omen of doom? With Mitch’s luck, he assumed the latter. And if it was a totem, who could it be watching over him? Mitch’s had experienced no shortage of loss. His parents were gone, his grandparents died before he was even born. Aunt Carol was no longer with him. And then there was…Nora.

Caw, caw, caw. Caw, caw, caw. Its cry was absolutely maddening, like daggers in his ears.

Nora, is that you? Mitch wondered. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. I did everything I could. And you were suffering. I just couldn’t watch you suffer anymore.

He closed his eyes and told himself the crow wasn’t there. He was determined to sleep and would not let that or thoughts of Nora deter him. In his mind, he had done the right thing by ending her suffering. He wouldn’t let her memory haunt him forever.

The noise ceased. He hoped the crow was gone, but he refused to get up and see for himself. He was tired and so close to sleep. Several minutes passed and not a sound, and then…

Caw, caw, caw.

It was so loud, so piercing, so close. It flew across the room and descended, landing at foot of the bed. Mitch had no time to ponder how it even managed to get inside. The crow stared with those dark, piercing eyes, and it chilled Mitch to the bone. Aunt Carol was wrong about one thing. Not all totems are harmless.

 

 

***

 

 

“We’ve got an ID on the victim?” Detective Mark Callis asked the responding officer.

“Yes, sir. Mitch Kramer, age 38. His boss reported him missing, said he hadn’t shown up to work in a few days and wasn’t returning any phone calls.”

“Cause of death?” Callis asked.

“Looks like something pecked his eyes clean out.”

“Pecked?”

“Yeah, take a look for yourself, if you want,” the officer said. “I’d rather not look again.”

 “You checked the house?”

“I did a sweep. Empty. And all doors and windows were sealed. I had to bust the front door to get in.”

“Did the deceased own a bird?”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Well, I’ll take a look around and let forensics do their work. But this one is beyond me. I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day, but I’ve got no explanation for this one.”

Caw, caw, caw.

“Did you hear something?” Callis asked.

The officer looked out the window. “Just a crow,” he said.