It started two nights ago—on my way home, when I made eye contact with a bird. I’m not making a pun; I really got goosebumps. With no reason at all, the thought popped into my head: It’s going to take me away. I dashed across the green light and half-ran back to my apartment.
That was the first time I’d ever been chased by a bird. It was clearly flying after me. A bird’s shadow—something that shouldn’t exist on a paved road at night—floated across my path, and I felt it. Are you serious? Today just keeps getting worse. My heart was pounding. I walked the back alley at a near-jog, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling with every step. I was terrified that if I started running, it would trigger the bird’s hunting instincts.
By the time I finally shut the door to my room, I was soaked in sweat—even though it was winter.
What the hell was that...? I tore off my scarf and drank the water I’d just bought. I dropped into a chair, took off my glasses, and wiped them furiously for no reason.
I actually liked birds, which made me feel guilty for being so scared of one. I decided to go to bed early and just forget the whole thing. I ate a quick meal and took a warm shower. I was scared to close my eyes when rinsing my face and shampoo, so I rushed through it and probably didn’t wash everything off properly. Anyway, I got into bed way earlier than usual.
I turned off the lights once—but the darkness freaked me out, so I turned them back on and lay down again.
What was that sound?
Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard something near my ear—like the night itself was crying. No, not near my ear... it was coming from outside. I was half-asleep, and it took a while to figure out where the sound was coming from.
Stolen novel; please report.
I stumbled across the tiny room twice before finally reaching the window.
With the back of my hand, I lifted the curtain just a bit.
“…Huh?”
Birds were flying through the sky. It sounds normal when you say it, but seeing a massive flock flying in one direction across the night sky above the city—it was chilling. I suddenly realized that the crying sound I’d heard was actually the flapping of their wings. That gave me the creeps.
Do birds even make that kind of sound when they fly? And even if they do, would it be loud enough to hear this clearly from this far away—and through a closed window?
No good—the room’s too bright to see outside. I need to turn off the lights.
Just as I had that thought, the lights went out on their own.
“Whoa—”
A stupid sound slipped out of my mouth. I looked around. The streetlights outside and the lights in the apartment hallways had all gone dark too.
What… a power outage? But seriously, how could it happen at that exact moment?
Anyway, I could see the birds much more clearly now.
I really shouldn’t have looked.
They were all staring at me.
Ever since that night, I haven’t been able to sleep.
After that, I sealed the curtains shut, double-checked the lock on the front door even though I knew it was pointless, and crawled under my blanket.
Under the blanket, I started searching online—“birds,” “nocturnal,” “flock.”
It wasn’t surprising, but yeah, people across the country had uploaded videos of similar flocks. I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I watched all the videos and then read through every single comment. I went over them multiple times, thinking maybe I’d missed something.
But not once did anyone say, “I made eye contact with the birds.”
I was so fixated on the screen that by the time I noticed, even the sound of the bird’s wings—the sound that had made the night weep—had faded away.
It felt like my eyesight had gotten worse again.
In that weird half-awake state, I turned on the TV for the first time in a while the next morning.
Maybe they’re some new species of migratory bird. I wondered if any bird experts had come forward with an explanation that actually made sense.
I kept watching until the last possible second before leaving for work—but in the end, I didn’t hear a single explanation that felt even remotely satisfying.