Hello lovely Sixers. For today's post, I done brung ya more from my short story, Flight. In case this is your first installment, you can find the beginning here and read forward. And, when you're done, check out Six Sentence Sunday for more sixes.
The crows reappeared one, two, and three-by-three along Bartholomew's path then winged up as one massive murder, wheeled about, and disappeared into a narrow alley. He frowned and, stepping into the dank corridor, saw only broken bricks, crumpled paper, and stagnant water until he followed the rustle of wings. The black sentinels stared down from the ledge of a four-story brick tenement. Bartholomew's frown deepened. But he knew not to ignore the birds. Crows were the Catcher's inhuman eyes, and there was something she wanted him to see.