Another bird landed, and another. They were crows, all of them. One of them hopped in a circle then leant forwards to touch her foot with its shiny beak; she leapt back with a small shriek and stumbled, falling inelegantly into the dirt.
They weren’t frightening. Not yet.
“Who are you?” Maria whispered.
Instantly the birds fell silent.
“What do you want?” There was nothing else she could say. “Do you want…me? Me? Do you want me?”
She pointed to herself.
And at that moment each and every one of the birds stopped moving.
They were completely silent.
Completely still.
Maria shuffled forwards a step. Slowly, she bent down and took off her sandal.
She threw it.
One by one the crows toppled over, like dominoes, in a perfect circle. One coal-black feather lay on the ground.
“Well,” she said, quietly.
They had turned to stone.
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This is an extract from the novel I'm writing. It's called Into the Blue (this is just a working name and may be changed to something different) and it's basically about angels.
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