Page 18 of Carnival of Crows

“It’s time for a research break,” I announced when we were all standing together again.

Sam immediately joined the line.

“I support your creative process.” She grinned.

The trailer’s service window had been framed with dried cornstalks, tiny pumpkins, and strings of warm orange bulbs. Steam rolled from a tall silver urn near the register, carrying the smell of apples and cinnamon into the cold night.

I ordered hot apple cider and a fried dough the size of my head.

The cider came in a black paper cup stamped with the Graves Park crow. The fried dough arrived folded inside a striped paper tray, still hot enough to send powdered sugar floating into the air when I tore off the first piece.

“Oh.”

I stopped walking.

Mary glanced over. “What?”

I took another bite.

The dough was crisp at the edges, soft and warm in the middle, with enough cinnamon sugar to make my teeth ache.

“This is good.”

“Good enough I need my own?” Catherine asked.

I chewed thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “You definitely do.”

“That needs to go in your review.” Amber chuckled.

We claimed two wooden benches beside the trailer. They looked original to the park, the green paint peeling in long strips that revealed gray wood beneath. The metal armrests were cold enough I could feel them through the sleeves of my jacket.

I sat with my cider tucked between my palms and looked beyond the food stand.

The midway curved toward the abandoned bumper cars. Fog drifted through the open pavilion in slow white sheets, gathering beneath the wrecked cars before spilling back across the pavement.

A pair of actors passed us while we ate. One dragged a wooden leg behind him, the metal brace scraping against the ground. The other wore a filthy feathered costume with a long black beak. Every few steps, the creature stopped and cocked its head sharply toward a guest before continuing on.

“Do you think that bird thing is supposed to be a plague doctor?” Mary asked.

“I think it’s supposed to ruin my sleep,” Sam answered.

I looked down when something black dropped onto the pavement near my shoe.

A crow hopped twice, grabbed a piece of popcorn someone had dropped, and flapped back onto the roof of the trailer. Another landed near the trash barrel. Then two more.

I followed them with my eyes. They were everywhere.

Perched along the sagging roofline of the old game booths. Balanced on the wooden railings. Lined up along the arms of a faded carnival sign as though they’d been placed there intentionally. I’d honestly never seen so many in one place at a time.

One swooped down and snatched a chunk of fried dough from beneath an empty table.

“Oh, no,” I murmured.

Catherine looked up from her hot chocolate. “What?”

“They’re eating garbage.”