“Yes, dear!” Mrs. Beauregard nodded, her mother quickly entering behind her.


    Ruth had changed attire, wearing more leisurely clothes. On her was a pair of deep purple  loose fitting slacks and a soft green long sleeved shirt that’s sleeves flowed loosely on her. Her peppered hair was now under a star printed scarf,  put up in a ponytail securely under the cloth. She had on a pair of hooped earrings that bounced when she walked. She looked over at her bewildered son-in-law, smirking.


    “That’s right Winston. Get used to seeing this face for the next couple weeks!” She beamed.


    Mr. Beauregard peered past both women, seeing some of his staff carrying hge bags of her belongings. They turned right into one of the manor’s guest rooms down the hall.


    “NO! NO! I forbid it, Kendra!” He said between coughs, taking a swig of the bourbon that sat in a small glass on the desk. “You know how I feel about this-this witch!” He hissed, pointed a finger at Ruth.


    “Oh please, Winston!” Mrs. Beauregard begged. “Mother’s gonna help me with the twins while you work! Besides, she promised to not be..that finatic with her job and love of the occult.” Kendra said calmly, glancing at her mother.


    “I swore it, Winston,” Ruth replied, making a cross over her chest then putting two finger’s up in a scouts salute. “So don''t get your knickers in a bunch. I’ll lay off my readings and tellings and palm stuff.” .” She smiled, carefully sitting her daughter down in Mr. Beauregard’s lounge chair that sat right by the room’s huge window.


    “Look woman,” Mr. Beauregard grimaced, pouring himself another glass. “you better not read damn zodiacs or fortunes while here. I don’t want my children’s earliest memories be a crazed elder-”


    “AHHHHHH!”


    The scream echoed so loudly that it alerted even the bodyguards outside.


    Mr. Beauregard quickly got up, hearing more screaming as the women followed.


    “What was that?!” He yelled, seeing Diana and Francine right down the hall.


    “I think it was one of the girls?!” Mrs. Beauregard gasped, seeing the two women go further into the room.


    Ruth picked up speed as some of the staff peered out the other rooms.


    “You think something happened to the children?! She asks, Mrs. Beauregard barelling into the nursery.


    Francine was pointing at something, motioning right to the twins’ cribs on the other side of the room. Mr. Beauregard and Ruth pooled into the space as they saw Diana taking her heels off.


    In the middle of the room was a huge window that gave a nice view of outside the home, facing the woods on the manor’s right side. It was shattered, glass covering the floor and cribs as a huge branch of the tree that sat right next to it had fallen into the room.


    The same three crows were back, roosting right on the windowsill. They hopped right onto the fallen tree, moving into the room and perched themselves right on the twins’ cribs.


    The crows squawk as Diana waved her shoe at them, trying to shoo them off only to get hissed at. “These damn birds have just been staring at the children ever since the window broke!” She yelled, Francine nodding.


    “It’s true sir.” She says, clutching some sheets in hand. “I left to get Mrs. Ruth some bedding and decided to check in on Diana and the children. She was changing their diapers when all of a sudden, the tree fell through the window. These crows came flying in and look!” She yelled, motioning to the crows just staring at the children.


    Mrs. Beauregard quickly got to the children, checking on them with Diana. Both were fine, completely knocked out from a bottle. They stirred slightly from Mrs. Beauregard gently touched them. Mr. Beauregard peered over her shoulder before waving his arms at the birds. They didn’t budge, squawking at him like they did Diana.


    “Get some more maids to clean up the glass Francine. I’ll handle the damn birds.” He said, grabbing the rock he had in his pocket. He chucks it at the birds, one hit right in the chest. It lets out a loud screech before taking off out the broken window. The other two stay for a moment before swooping out right after.


    “Winston!” Ruth yells, looking at him. “Never mess with a crow! That’s bad luck!” She says worriedly.


    “Oh please!” Mr. Beauregard groaned. “They’re just birds.” He retired, pushing the cribs.


    “Birds that carry omens! You know that broken glass is bad luck too and-”


    “What did I say about your occult talk? You promised.” He hissed, motioning to Mrs. Beauregard who watched the two bicker. Ruth groans softly, watching him walk back over to the cribs.


    Francine entered the room with a few maids, each holding brooms to sweep up the glass. Diana watched while she helped Mrs. Beauregard with the children, rocking one of them as they watched Mr. Beauregard loudly pushed Mirabel’s crib onto one side of the room. Francine took the sheets off the bed and shook glass and crow feathers off it while he moved Martin’s. Another made it as Diana handed him his daughter.


    “The children won’t be near that window until it''s fixed, Kendra.” He says, Mrs. Beauregard letting out a sigh.


    “Good. I didn’t want any glass pouring into their beds anyway.” She says, rocking Martin. “Now let’s leave the children with Francine and continue with Mother’s move in. I’ll make them another bottle come 6.” She hands Francine the twins as the other maids cleans and set up the beds.  Mr. Beauregard just looked down at Mirabel, rubbing her small temple before setting her down once the beds were done.


    Weeks had passed and Mr. Beauregard became more irritated.


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    His mother-in-law, in his opinion, was overstaying her welcome. To him, Ruth had completely changed the household by baby-proofing everything.


    She had the Help cut up pieces of old pool noodles and tape them to every sharp edge of the house. From window sills to table edges, she had these multicolored noodle ends curved around corners in case the children ran into them. By that moment, the children had only started to crawl and she feared they could get hurt. She even bought baby gates so they couldn’t crawl up or down the stairwell or into certain rooms.


    Mrs. Beauregard didn’t mind this, seeing that it was just her mother being as protective as she. She was glad at her mother for being weary over the children, much like herself had been, but Mr. Beauregard didn’t like it one bit.


    His irritation worsened when the crow returned. He found them one morning sitting on his study’s open window, staring at him as he worked. Their heads moved in unison as beady eyes curiously watched him file and read papers at his desk. He tried to shoo them off, using a broom and threats of throwing more rocks at them, but the crow didn''t care. Mr. Beauregard was certain they were mocking him—their shrill cries, their cold black eyes never blinking every time. The crows never cared, liking the attention they got from the family.


    Ruthhowever, didn’t care. She would sometimes feed them, buying them seed and leaving it out in a little bowl whenever she opened her window.  Other times, she’d leave out water and even little birdhouses she crafted by it. She liked watchingthem play around in Mrs. Beauregard’s garden in the backyard, the three birds always taking sticks and berries and tossing them up and down so the others could catch. She found it adorable.


    If they weren’t playing, they’d be seen perched on the roof, rRight above Mr. Beauregard’s study. Knowing he could hear them, the sound of their claws scraping against the shingles like fingernails on a chalkboard. The grinding noise gave him headaches, ending up yelling in annoyance at his ceiling asthe birds would then slide offthe roof  and dive down past windows in enjoyment.


    By the midday, they’d fly right back down into Mrs. Beauregard’s garden, perching right up on her shed. She’d be outside by that point, deciding to get some fresh air from Mr. Beauregard’s smoke filled rooms with the children. The crows’ would watch, leaning over to watch the twins play in the flowers. She didn’t mind their presence but Mr. Beauregard felt it was just another insult, watching them from his study’s window.


    His hatred soon turned into an obsession, buying a telescope to watch their movements. Everytime they appeared, he’d stare furiously out through it, studying their every move. If they’d move, he’d move. If they sat at a window, he’d go to that window. He’d do this for days, just waiting for them to do something that made him act. And one night, the crows broke him.


    They woke him with a jolt, making repetitive sharp tapping noises at his bedroom’s window. It was covered by a long black curtain that was draped close, some moonlight still seeped into the room though. It startled him into a sit up, the noises getting louder and louder. Mr. Beauregard turned around, checking on his wife.


    Mrs. Beauregard was still asleep, nuzzled into their soft feather pillows as he petted her head. He sighed, getting out of bed. He begrudgingly made his way to the window, peeling the curtains back. There at the window were the three crows, each holding these shiny pebbles proudly on the sill. They tapped the rocks against the window for his attention. Mr. Beauregard just stared furiously at them, fixing his messy hair.


    “That''s it! I’m done." he hissed under breath. “I am done with this! Damn fucking birds!” He stormed out the room, grabbing his silk red robe that hung behind the door.


    He went right to his study on the other end of the hall, briefly looking into the nursery to see Francine sleeping on the couch right by the cribs.


    He turned into the room, walking over to one of the bookshelves. Above it was this huge portrait of his late father overhead, a painting of him holding a rifle in the Kenyan outback. A dead lion under his boot.


    Mr. Beauregard gripped one of the drawers at his desk, pulling it open to reveal a silver key. It was dusty and a bit old, him whipping it off on his pant leg. He moved over to the bookshelf, getting on his knees to open a low drawer.


    Inside was his father’s old hunting rifle and a green box of ammo. The gun was covered in cobweb, untouched since Martin Beauregard IV’s passing. Mr. Beauregard grabbed it, taking a handkerchief off his desk and carefully cleaned it. He blows air onto the barrel before opening the box of ammo, loading a few rounds into the rifle’s chamber.


    He then oppened the drawer above, finding his metal flashlight. He clicked it on, the light flashing into the room before turning it back off.


    He makes his way down the grand stairwell and out the house, hearing the crows’ cawing from the back of the home. His bodyguards watched as he walked right past them, grabbing Mrs. Beauregard’s spare garden key from under a hedge. He walks over to the gate and unlocks it, pushing the metal door open as the guards move from their posts.


    They spot the rifle in his hand and fear the worst, running after him while he walks down the cobblestone pathway that leads into the garden.


    He shined his flashlight around as he pushed the hanging flowers of Mrs. Beauregard’s chinese wisteria out his face.


    “Sir, are you okay?” One bodyguard asks.


    “Perfectly fine.” He said blankly, passing Mrs. Beauregard’s vegetable greenhouse. “I do suggest you two head back to your posts.” He stared widely ahead, taking the safety off the rifle as he stepped on Mrs. Beauregard’s petunias.


    “Shouldn’t you be in bed, sir.” The other said, reaching for the rifle. “You have a meeting in a few hours!”


    Mr. Beauregard quickly moved the gun away, hissing. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill myself. And if you two want your next paycheck, then you better go back to the front and leave me be.” He cocked the rifle. His thumb quickly took the gun’s safety off as he heard the crows cawing in the dark. The men nodded and ran right out the backyard.


    The crows could see Mr. Beauregard walking around from their spot, watching him step carelessly over Mrs. Beauregard’s other flowers and fauna. He shined the light all around as the birds squawked.


    “I know you pests are still here.” He yelled, hearing the flapping of wings overhead. “Show yourselves!”


    He turns, seeing the crows now perched on the gate behind him. He gritted his teeth, watching as they got ready to take flight.


    “Go on," He muttered, taking aim. “Fly away."


    They ruffled and cleaned their inky black feathers, watching them gleam in the flashlight’s glare like oil. They quickly took off from the fence, heading for a nearby tree but one turned around and perched itself right on top of the garden shed.


    The crow stared at him down, fearless. Mr. Beauregard just tilted his head in confusion, slightly lowering his gun. He waited a moment, wanting to know if the bird would move.


    It didn’t.


    So he raised the rifle back up in the air, his fingering twitching on the trigger.


    Then BANG!


    A shot rang out past the trees, startling the whole house awake. The bird crumpled off the shed in a flurry of feathers. Its body falling right into a hedge behind the shed.


    The manor’s lights all turn on in  rapid succession, Mrs. Beauregard looking right out the bedroom window to see birds from the nearby forest taking off in alarm. She looked down and saw Mr. Beauregard and his smoking gun.


    For a moment, there was silence. Then he looked back to see a few staff members come rushing out the home. Ruth was seen in the backyar doors that were on the small porch who’s steps led right into the garden. She unlocked and pushed them open, wearing a fuzzy white robe and soft long sleeved pajamas. She was barefoot, stepping absentmindedly onto the cool grass with her slippers in hand.


    “WINSTON!” She yelled, Mrs. Beauregard still watching before rushing right out the room to go see if their children were alright.


    Many of the staff  were home when Mr. Beauregard shot the bird, the few that remained actually lived inside the manor, including Diana. She was up the entire night so far, finishing paperwork and talking on the phone with someone. She had spotted Mr. Beauregard walking in the backyard from her room behind the kitchen, fearing the worst like the bodyguards when she spotted the rifle in the moonlight.


    She had alerted the staff briefly just as the gunshot rang out, rushing outside with everyone as Ruth came running down the steps. Now outside, she pushed past other workers to go right to her boss, all watching as he neared the shed.


    Ruth quickly made her way down the soft stone steps, kicking grass off her feet and sliding on her slippers in urgency. She stepped carefully over Mrs. Beauregard’s lovely bedelias, rushing right over to Diana  by the shed. She peered over to see a splatter of blood on the plastic roof and some feathers.


    “What did you do?!" Diana yelled, clutching her chest. “Boss, a-are you alright?”


    Ruth felt her heart pounding in her chest as her daughter finally made it outside, holding their children. Mrs. Beauregard kept her distance as the staff crowded near her shed.


    “Winston, are you alright?” She yelled over the mumbling staff.


    Mr. Beauregard didn’t hear either of them, his heart pounding in anxious excitement within him. He was too busy following this small trail of blood next to the shed, leading him to the back. He followed it to where he had seen the bird fall, shining his light right where the blood stopped.


    Ruth followed with Diana, feeling something roll under her foot as the younger woman went behind her boss. She moved her foot back, looking down to see the shimmering metal casing of a bullet in the grass, glowing from the dim house lights.


    There, behind the shed on a small hedge, was the crow. The very crow he threw a rock at in his children’s room. It was sprawled out on its back, a hole was deep in its chest. Blood still dripped from the wound, wettening its feathers. Ruth made her way on the other side of the shed, looking right at Mr. Beauregard near the bush. She gasps, hearing the bird make a gurgling chirp noise.