Hours went by until the Beauregard parents were able to take their children home, Mrs. Beauregard was able to get a final checkup before being cleared to leave. Her husband surprisingly helped her into her wheelchair and took her out of the hospital once he signed the last paperwork. The two waited outside the hospital for their personal driver, Leonard, to pull up in Mr. Beauregard’s own car.


    Mrs. Beauregard just rested with her two children in her wheelchair, feeling sluggish as her husband was busy looking at his watch. He glanced upward and noticed the cloud blocked the sun starting to. He grumbled to himself as he took out his flip phone, dialing some number before putting it up to his ear. He spoke to his driver on the other line, complaining about his tardiness and wondering what was taking him so long.


    “Damn Leonard.” He spoke, hanging up abruptly as his wife gazed up at him tiredly. “I just got this new Pontiac and the man’s already running late with it. I swear to God if he damages it, I’m reducing his salary.”


    Mrs. Beauregard chuckled tiredly as she rocked their children. “He’s just running late, nothing too bad.” She said softly, watching him take another puff of his cigar as he leaned against a column that supported the arch way of the hospital above.


    “Nothing too bad?!” He said mockingly. “Kendra, the fucking game comes on at 5 and its already 4:30! I gotta see if our team makes it to the finals!” He says, tapping his foot against the cobblestone floor beneath them.


    Mrs. Beauregard just rolled her eyes, looking back down at her children when suddenly three crows flew past overhead. Their beady little eyes stared right at the children as they perched themselves on the nearby gate, leaning forward in some curiosity. They cawed as Mrs. Beauregard held the children a bit close, unnerved by the three birds.


    Mr. Beauregard noticed her stares, blowing out a puff of smoke before lowering his cigar stub. “Damn crows.” He said annoyed. “Can’t even make a normal bird call to save their lives.” He grumbled, upset over his tardy driver.


    “Really, Winston?” Mrs. Beauregard said, looking back at him with a confused expression.


    Rain picked up overhead, heard dropping on the small roof above them. The air blew a chilly wind that made the couple shiver slightly. The crows cawed louder as the rain splashed down on them.


    Poor Mrs. Beauregard already felt unnerved, shuffling in her wheelchair as Mr. Beauregard grew annoyed at the birds. Deciding to grab one of the display rocks that cluttered around a freshly cut hedge, he tossed it up and down in his palm with a scheming look on his.  He made a mischievous smile and got ready to throw, pulling up his white linen shirt sleeve and winded back his arm.


    “Winston!” Mrs. Beauregard yelled, staring at him disapprovingly as he stopped mid-wine. “Don’t you think about it!” she hissed, holding the children close. “You know my mother’s superstition! She says it’s bad luck to bother crows.”


    “Bad luck, my ass,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he readied to throw again. “Damned Ruth doesn''t know what luck even is if it hits her in the face!” He chucked it right at the birds as Mrs. Beauregard frowned.


    The crows didn’t even move, one of them simply squawked. Their eyes shifted to look at Mr. Beauregard, their gazes icy. The rock had struck the iron bars under them with a loud clang, just inches from the crows’ feet.


    “See, they’re fine.” He scoffed, grabbing another before the sound of a car’s horn stopped him. Headlights flashing in their direction as Mrs. Beauregard spotted her husband’s Pontiac roll up to the hospital entrance.


    The car was a 1987 black Pontiac driven by a white man with slick shoulder length black hair. He wore the typical chauffeur outfit, a black suit and black polka dotted tie with a white dress shirt underneath. His white gloved hands gripped the leather steering wheel tensely as he parked right in front of the couple.


    “Thank god.” Mrs. Beauregard mumbled, positioning her wheelchair to face the backseat passenger door. Mr. Beauregard locked her in place as Leonard rolled the front passenger window down.


    “Sorry boss, I had to g-get the car washed and-” Leonard’s New Jerseyian accent cracked as Mr. Beauregard bent over in the window, giving the poor man an intense look.


    “Just unlock the doors, Leonard.” He said blatantly , gripping the door handle.


    The car locks’ clicked and Leonard reached across the front passenger to open the door for Mr. Beauregard. He gets out of the car as Mrs. Beauregard is carefully placed in the backseat with the children.


    “Your kids sure are beautiful. Twins?” He asked, trying to lighten the air as Mr. Beauregard loudly shut the door.


    “Not in the mood Leonard.” Mr. Beauregard replied, watching the driver fold up the wheelchair and placing it in the popped trunk.


    “Yessir.” Leonard said, watching his boss get into the front passenger and shuts the door behind him. He hops back in the driver’s seat and pulls slowly out of the hospital. The car rocks as the wind outside brushes a harsh gust against the metal. The crows were still watching, getting ready to take flight  as the care made it out onto the street.


    Mrs. Beauregard wearily sits up, rocking her children as their car drives down the block, watching them go past many stores and homes. The crows started to follow the black car, soaring over the hood and past the many electric posts overhead.


    The Pontiac’s tires hissed against the rain-slicked pavement as they left the hospital behind, its looming structure disappearing into the storm. The passing city streets were quiet and dim, streetlights illuminated storefronts and parts of the sidewalk. Not many cars were on other lanes nor seen on the few neighborhood blocks they rolled by, giving the space an empty feel. The store’s with neon lights flickered onto the car’s metal as they turned.


    Mrs. Beauregard watched the rain and passing lights quietly, silently rocking her children. Still shivering despite the warmth of the blanket, she clutched the twins close as they made it through downtown Brackenwell.


    Townhouses and apartment homes littered the streets with their brick facades dampened by the rain, streaks of water cascading down like thin veins. Many of the buildings had barred windows, and some stoops were littered with soaked newspapers, their ink bleeding onto the concrete. A few figures shuffled along the sidewalks, huddled beneath umbrellas or hooded jackets, their faces obscured by the dim glow of flickering street lamps. Pawn shops with iron security gates lined the corners, their cluttered displays barely visible through grime-coated glass. A liquor store’s red neon sign buzzed erratically, its broken ‘Q’ flickering.


    The rain kept pouring as Leonard navigated through the winding streets with some ease. Brick buildings became wooden houses, then isolated farmsteads with skeletal trees bending under the wind’s weight. The streetlights became fewer and farther between, their warm glow swallowed by the creeping darkness beyond.


    Then came the turn. A part of the road curves rightward into some dense and thick trees on the outskirts of downtown, a single path that would take them into the wooded side of Brackenwell. It was narrow and winding, flanked by towering oaks with gnarled branches clawed at the sky, blocking out the bare sunlight still outside. They swayed violently overhead, some scraping the roof as Leonard steady drove past. Its’ headlights barely cut through the twigs and a dense fog rolled in.


    Mrs. Beauregard cowered slightly in the back seat, instinctively holding the twins closer as the familiar unease from earlier slithered back into her chest. She heard the crow’s caw again, seeing three figures flying through the dense trees as they drove deeper into the woods. The path beneath them turned from tar to gravel, the car shaking more as it rocked from each little rock bit.


    Leonard could barely see as rock, rain, and now mud splashed up onto the windshield, the wipers working hard to push the muck away. “I hate it when it rains.” He grumbled, pressing a button on the wheel that sprayed wiper fluid onto the glass.


    Mr. Beauregard merely grunted in response, cracking his window slightly and taking a puff of his cigar. He blows out a small cloud of some before looking back at his wife and children, knocking the ash of his cigar out the cracked window.  “You okay, back there?” He asked, glancing at the kids.


    “Yea,” She said tiredly. “The children are just resting.” She smiled tiredly. She spots the three crows come flying out the overhanging trees, one suddenly soared away. The Beauregard suddenly lurch forward as the car goes into a sudden spin.


    Something wedged into the windshield wipers as mud clogged the rims, preventing the wheels from rolling anymore. The car spun around as it slid backwards onto a small ledge in the woods. Leonard fights with the wheel, pumping the brakes while the couple screamed. Mr. Beauregard rocked in his seat as he tried to help, his wife curling herself around the children as the car slammed into two trees. The trunk pops open as the back takes most of the blow.


    The front slammed against the second, temporarily locking them in between both trees. Mr. Beauregard’s head slams against the window as Leonard’s door bent from hitting the tree bark.  Mrs. Beauregard rocked in the back, shielding the children in her arms as Leonard finally braked.


    “WHAT THE HELL?!” Mr. Beaurgard yelled, shaking as Mrs. Beauregard steadily uncurled around her children. She swaddled them more as Leonard groaned from the deployed airbag hitting him. He turns the engine back on, carefully putting the vehicle into drive to move the car slightly.


    “Goddamn mud!” Leonard screamed, kicking the crumbled front door open once it was free of the tree. The door fell right off as he got out, his loafers sinking into the lot before he went to the back. Mr. Beaurgard places a weary hand on his head, leaning back in the soft seat cushions as his driver pushes the car back where they came.


    “Are you alright, Mrs. Beauregard?” Leonard asked in a shaky breath, looking into the back passenger. She just nods, her husband showing a moment of compassion as he reaches back to hold her hand. Leonard got the car back onto the trail, tossing the mud off the wheels with his bare gloved hands. “Good, now let’s get you two home.” He said, getting back into the car.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The ride continued in a silence, Leonard just glancing through the rearview mirror at Mrs. Beauregard and over at Mr. Beauregard as the path widened. Passing the trees, they made it to a clearing that was covered by a cobblestone driveway that led straight up a hill to the front of the Beauregard Manor. It was an imposing structure, with dark stone walls rising up from the fog like a phantom. Rows of arched windows stared down at them, black and empty. Its great double doors at the entrance gleamed under the dim light of the gas lanterns lining the driveway, but even their glow did little to dispel the shadows clinging to the house’s edges.


    Leonard steadily made it up to the manor’s front gate, grabbing his ID card out of the broken glove box. The security guard sitting in the small security booth out in front of the gate, got out to peer into the car. He nodded before reaching into the booth, pressing a button that unlocked the gates. They cracked slightly with layers of paint chipping off from movement. He nodded as he drove up to the front of the home, pulling right up to the white marble steps. Leaves and muck from the woods  fell off the broken car, scattering the cobblestone driveway as it screeched to a halt. Mr. Beauregard wearily gets himself out of the car, carefully opening the back door for his wife.


    Watching them were the three crows, now perched on the archway over the front door. They stared down at the three as Mrs. Beauregard rocked the children wearily. Two guards, standing in front of the home’s two grand mahogany doors quickly open them for the tired woman, nodding to her as Mr. Beauregard helped her into the home. Leonard wipes his feet on the welcome mat as the doors slam behind him.


    The rest of Mr. Beauregard’s staff was waiting in the main foyer to greet them, gasping at how weary and messy the trio looked.  The handmaid, Francine, quickly rushed to Mr. Beauregard to wipe his messed up cigar ash off his face. “Not me, him.” He said, gently swatting her hand away as Leonard shoke off more mud.


    “What happened?” She asks, Leonard looking down at her.


    “The trail’s washed up.” He simply answered, carefully sliding his loafers off before following Francine further into the home. Another maid, named Gabby, approached with a mop and bucket to clean up the mud as Mrs. Beauregard headed in the direction of the manor’s kitchen. Mr. Beauregard’s assistant, Diana, watched silently before walking right up to him.


    “You two got in a wreck?! How are the children?” She yelled worriedly, dismissing the other staff.


    “They’re fine thank god. The road was too muddied on the way here and it got in the Pontiac’s tires. The car slid around and Leonard fought the wheel til we stopped spinning. Thankfully, we got out alive though my damn car is a wreck.” He said. “I need a smoke after the headache I got from the crash.”


    He took a deep breath as Diana quickly turned his head to the side, a deep gash wound bleeding down the side of his forehead. “You need medical attention sir.” She says, clapping her hands. Mr. Beauregard just shook his head, leaning against the nearby wall as a maid ran up with a first aid kid. They tend to him as he watches Mrs. Beauregard hand the children to someone right as their home phone rings.


    Mrs. Beauregard goes to answer, smiling tiredly as she hears a voice on the other end of the line. “Darling, it''s my mother! She’s arriving soon to see her new grandkids.” She called out, Mr. Beauregard’s eyes widening.


    “Tell…Tell that witch we’re not home!” He yelled, held back as the maid stitched his wound. “I don’t want that devil woman coming to my home!”


    “Too late dear, she’ll be here in 10 minutes!” Mrs. Beauregard beamed. Mr. Beauregard nearly faints at her words, placing a weary hand on his head while Diana helped him to the living room to rest.


    The room was a grand yet calming space, scented with the smell of aged wood and lingering cigar smoke from Mr. Beauregard''s many cigars. The walls were painted in dark mahogany, their glossy finish reflecting the flickering light from the large stone fireplace at the room''s center. Above its mantle hung an imposing oil portrait of his grim-faced father Martin Beauregard IV, his stern gaze peering into anyone who enters soul. The fireplace itself was a beast of carved stone, its intricate patterns curling like vines up to the mantle. Embers crackled within, casting faint shadows that danced across the room’s velvet drapes and high-backed armchairs. The furniture was rich and overstuffed — deep crimson cushions with brass studs lining the arms, the upholstery slightly worn from years of use.


    A massive Persian rug was sprawled across the floor, its deep auburn  color covered in intricate patterns that faded  in spots where foot traffic wore thin. A low oak coffee table sat right on it, a tarnished silver ashtray overflowing with cigar butts and a box of cigars next to it. Mr. Beauregard reaches for the lit one as Mrs. Beauregard gets up to grab a book off the bookshelf on the other side of the room.


    The shelf leaned slightly forward, its shelves sagging under the weight of countless leather-bound volumes. Framed photos were tucked between the books — faded family portraits that seemed to capture moments of the couple and larger family. Right next to it was Mrs. Beauregard’s new rocking chair, swathed in a knitted throw blanket, sitting near the fire. There used to be a wooden chair that Mr. Beauregard had carved for her years ago in its place but the old chair had caught on fire one night and he had to toss it before it could do any more harm. She rests in the chair, taking in the calming silence of the room before a loud bang interrupted their piece.


    The footsteps of heels causes him to grudgingly sit back down. “WINSTON!” An older female voice is heard as the sound of a cane hitting against the home’s hardwood floors echoed after. The shadow of a woman reaches into the living room as Mr. Beauregard got an annoyed look on his face. He rubs his temple as he looked up.


    Ruth Chance was a woman of remarkable presence. Draped in an velvet  emerald-green dress that shimmered in the low  light, she stood with the aura of someone who never took a “no” for an answer if the situation called for it. Although her grey streaked hair and usual baggy eyes made her come across as a bit frantic of a woman. She fixed the string of pearls necklaces on her neck as her black fur shawl clung to her shoulders. Her ring adorned fingers taped impatiently against the polished cane she didn’t need as she coughed.


    “WINSTON…Where are my grandbabies? I got a call from your assistant that they had been borned before I arrived. Where’d you put ‘em?” She asked. “And what the hell happened? I saw your car a mess and mud on the welcome mat?!”


    “Oh I’m sorry Ruth,” He said dramatically, blowing cigar smoke in her direction. “It’s not my fault that the road here turned to mud in the middle of a storm. So don’t come at me today.”


    The old woman coughed, using her scarf to cover her nose. “I really can’t see why you love those damned things. Especially with grandbabies in the house, you could get them sick.” She groaned while approaching her daughter, giving Mrs. Beauregard a big hug.


    “Well they’re not in here huh?” He mocked. “Besides, the children have been taken to the new nursery upstairs.” He leaned back in his chair as Ruth scoffed.


    “I’ll go up there as soon as I talk to my daughter, Winston.” Ruth shook her head, turning back to face a tired Mrs. Beauregard. “Kendra dear, you rest up as much as you need to during this time. You make sure those two get the most sleep and food they need. You know to call me if anything, right?” She says sternly.


    “I know Mom.” Mrs. Beauregard said softly, smiling. “But let me get you outta here. I know Winston doesn’t like it when you get too close, gives him a migraine. Besides, he needs some space right now.” She gets up from her chair, walking with her mother out the room.


    Leonard soon comes rushing in, stopping to tip his hat to Ruth before walking up to Mr. Beauregard. “Boss, you gotta see this!” He yelled, biting his lip.


    “Oh what now?” Mr. Beauregard exclaimed, getting up from his chair. “Can’t I get a moment’s rest?”


    “It’s only for a moment, boss. It’s important.” Leonard responds, heading back to the front of the house with Mr. Beauregard. Some of the staff were standing around the wrecked car, still wiping it down as Francine handed Leonard something.


    “Boss, I told all the staff what happened and they came out to help me with the car..but while we were cleaning the muck off, Francine found what caused the wipers to get stuck.” He says, uncurling his palm.


    It was a black crow feather, covered in mud. Mr. Beauregard stumbled back a bit. He coughed, regaining his composure. “A feather? Really?” He says, taking it from Leonard. He inspected it as Leonard nodded.


    “I guess when that crow flew by, one of its feathers fell off and got caught.” The man suggests.


    Mr. Beauregard just shrugged. “Take the car to a mechanic after you’re done cleaning it.” He said, soon groaning as he heard his mother-in-law call out from inside the house.


    “Winston! I’m gonna need some tea and blankets for-” The old woman peered her head out, seeing Mr. Beauregard holding a crow feather. “Winston! Where’d you find this?” She asks, approaching him.


    “This is what caused my wreck! A damn bird’s feather.” He groaned.


    “I-How?” She takes it from him.


    “Ma’am, a crow flew past us on the way home and I’m guessing a feather fell off and got lodged into the windshield wipers.” Leonard spoke up.


    “Odd.” Ruth mumbled to herself for a moment, looking at Mr. Beauregard. “Winston, did you see any crows before getting into the car?”


    Mr. Beauregard was too busy lighting his cigar, taking a few puffs before looking down at the old woman. “Huh?...Oh yeah! Me and Kendra saw three of them when we got out of the hospital.” He said nonchalantly, blowing the smoke in her direction.


    “Did they follow you?” She asks worriedly, gripping the feather.


    “Yea, a bit. But I didn’t realize that they strayed the entire way home.” Mr. Beauregard didn’t want to dwell on it, stepping back inside.


    “Leonard, if you see any more crows just tell me.” Ruth says, following her son-in-law. She felt like something was off, feeling like it felt coincidental that it took a simple feather to have something as drastic as a car accident to happen.


    After the staff finished cleaning the car, Leonard moved it into the manor’s garage. It was a large shed the size of a small single floor home, housing the two other  vehicles the Beauregard’s used. On the right side sat Mrs. Beauregard’s car,  a yellow Volkswagen beetle with  floral print interiors. Right next to it was Mr. Beauregard’s first ever car, an auburn Cadillac, gifted to him by his late father as a birthday gift.


    Leonard carefully parked the car on the only available space left, right by some gardening equipment. Just as he stepped out, the driver’s side door fell off the car, the window smashing into pieces on the concrete floor.


    “Crap.” He groaned, picking it up. He leans it against the door only for the front passenger door to fall off. “God fucking damnit!” He sighed, kicking the messed up car. The entire mess of a Pontiac collapses in on itself, getting glass and metal onto the fine leather seats.


    Leonard just stared in disbelief, combing his fingers between his hair and walking right out. He went right back inside, heading up the grand staircase to the second floor. He passed by the Beauregard’s new nursery, seeing Mrs. Beauregard and Ruth tending to the children for a brief moment. He walked right up to Mr. Beauregard’s study, the door cracked open.


    The air inside was thick with cigar smoke, its scent clinging to the heavy drapes and dark wooden panels that lined the walls. The room felt dim, with only the faint glow of a green glass desk lamp and the flicker of the fireplace casting shadows along the corners. His mahogany desk, worn yet grand, sat in the middle of the room, cluttered with ledgers, fountain pens, and a crystal decanter half-filled with whiskey. Stacks of paperwork were pushed to the side, precariously close to toppling over.


    Bookshelves behind it stretched from floor to ceiling, sagging under the weight of countless dusty tomes — some with gold-embossed spines, others with cracked leather covers barely holding together. An old globe stood in the corner, its brass stand tarnished yet still gleaming faintly.


    Leonard coughed from the smell, cracking open a window as Mr. Beauregard turned in his swivel chair.


    “Boss, your car’s totaled. It collapsed the moment I put it in the garage.” He says, watching Mr. Beauregard takes another puff.


    “Just…call the mechanic in the morning. I do not have time to deal with this right now.” Mr. Beauregard sighed, clutching his temple.


    Leonard worriedly nodded, quickly leaving as Mr. Beauregard leaned back in his chair. He looks out his window, staring at the tree right outside his study. It was shaking from the overpassing storm, hitting the window pane repeatedly. His eyes widen as his study’s door bursts right open moments later.


    It was Mrs. Beauregard, looking more lighthearted than she did earlier. “Dear... I have news! My mother’s going to be staying for the next few weeks.” She says, sitting on his desk.


    Mr. Beauregard choked on the inhaled smoke, coughing as he exhaled it out. “WHAT?!” He says, setting the cigar down in his ashtray.