Barnabas sits perched upon a roof peering downwards into the town square with a scorn known only to others of his ilk. While in wait, he silently curses the various decrepit passersby as they scuttle to and fro from one meaningless place to another. They give no thought to their lives outside of predetermined routines they have fallen into slowly like watching a sunset and not realizing the night has fallen. And night has fallen, for the darkness has surely consumed Barnabas whole. From above, his senses are prickled by stimuli feeding into a horrible nagging and inescapable hatred. He too has his routine, and it is exactly this: Rooftop judgement.
But lo, from afar Barnabas hears a voice beckoning! With haste and without thought, he spreads his inky wings and slices through the air, landing perched atop a small branch before a ten year old girl.  
"Taxi?"
"Corv."
"I'm trying to get to Turffield."
"Corvi."
And he flies.
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Produced by AJ Fillari: https://twitter.com/ajfillari

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