The Ocean at the End of the Lane

 

They came. High in the sky they were, and black, jet black, so black it seemed as if they were specks on my eyes, not real things at all. They had wings, but they were not birds, they were older than birds, and flew in circles and in loops and whorls, dozens of them, hundreds perhaps, and each flapping unbird, slowly, ever so slowly, descended... And then one of them dropped from the sky, dropped faster than the mind could imagine. I felt a rush of air beside me, saw a black, black jaw filled with needles and eyes that burned like gas jets...They landed, and I stared at them, but saw nothing but shadows. So many shadows. And they were staring at us.

- The Ocean at the End of the Lane Neil Gaiman -

 

The hunger birds are coming.
Swooping down on us all. Coming in to claim all to be eaten.
They’ll swirl and whorl and loop and twist out from the sky and wrap themselves around you, clawing with twenty needle sharp wired teeth, or thousands or hundreds of claws, with beady eyes gleaming and glittering out from the darkness.
These giant leathery unbirds, these shadows from the dark.
They’re coming for you.

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