The Scars of Qulin Moore

Chapter 27

The rain battered against Dianna's bedroom window as she laid in bed watching the droplets trickle down like drunken slugs. She couldn't sleep. She didn't want to sleep. She needed proof. So no sleep it was. As she held her phone, watching those watery slugs form a thick puddle at the base of her window, doubt boiled—would she actually catch of glimpse of Lucas, or something convincing for that matter? It wouldn't be long before her parents found out she had retrieved her phone against their orders and ground her indefinitely. For the first time she felt the clutches of time closing in. The pressure of obtaining proof wearing down her resolve. She held onto thoughts of Lucas. Maybe, she thought, it'd be best to go directly over to Mr. Moore's right now. Her soft fingers snuggled around the phone. She recalled Lucas's grief-filled accounts about his father's abuses. How his stories brought sad tears to her eyes. No kid should have to see what he'd witnessed. No kid. Yet the thought, intended to strengthen her grit, only succeeded in revealing her own unpleasant situation. Lucas and her had more in common than she'd ever considered. Struggling to make sense of a world where neglect from those who are supposed to love you is the only lens to measure life. Her father, made her feel so little, unloved. Maybe she was better off with Mr. Moore, too.

She stood and fidgeted and stretched the knots of doubt from her legs and glanced at the clock on her bedside table: 11:00PM. The night held potential and uncertainty in equal quantity. Just keep watching, she repeated to herself, something will happen. Stubbornness, her peculiar speciality, would be her driving force tonight. She took a small sip of water and scurried to the windowsill as jagged white lightening bolts streaked overhead.

~~~~~~~

"Are there really gonna be toads out this late?" Lucas asked, excitedly.

"Toads love the rain," Qulin replied, searching for another mason jar. "They get a chance to stretch their legs and embrace their nature."

"Yup, and while they're doing their rain dances, we snatch 'em up with our beaks," Som snickered.

Lucas looked puzzled.

"Don't you worry, Lucas. I don't eat amphibians, only insects. Though, I suppose if push come to shove, and nature demanded a bird such as myself must eat whatever is available on the menu in order to survive, well I guess I'd try a toad. You know, some of the most beautiful gifts are the ones you never knew you needed."

"I can think of better gifts," Lucas said, cringing, "they're probably bitter and sour. Like an old piece of gum that's been stuck under a desk. Probably give you warts, too."

"Warts? Nonsense—I truly think in a way every creature rotates the role it plays."

Qulin scoffed. "Brace yourself Lucas, here comes one of Som's grand lessons."

"If I may continue—Sometimes a creature is a giver, and other times it is a taker. A rotation between nourishment and consumer, each role changing depending on circumstance."

"And what are you, exactly at this moment?" asked Qulin.

"I'm a bonafide consumer," Som quickly asserted. "Eating and gorging and having my fill. But I don't get arrogant. I see things change before my eyes. Who knows, maybe soon my chance will come to be 'nourishment'—though, I don't know how that'd work out. It doesn't suit me to ponder enthusiastically about it. Just when it comes, it'll come and I'll submit to my duty."

"Do you think it'll be painful?" Lucas asked.

"Good question, and one I don't have an answer to. However, us crows don't have many enemies. It's our friendly disposition you see, we get along with most groups. Friendliness and kindness is key."

"Your famous platitude—friendliness and kindness," Qulin scoffed.

"What can I say," Som replied, bowing. "I'm hopelessly devoted to certain things I believe indispensable."