The ice blew in circles in the air, churning like a grand machine – taking anything that came in its path and cutting it down into dust. Mother Crow flew as fast as she could through the perilous blizzard, using every bit of strength to fight through it. The ice struck her, piercing through her feathers, and slicing through her skin. She cried out, only for her voice to be lost in the howling of that great storm.
She searched desperately for her nest as ice pelted her feathers and wind buffeted her wings, but she refused to give up. Somewhere below, her chicks waited, hungry and afraid. Their pitiful cheeps echoed in her heart, driving her onward when all seemed lost.
Just as despair crept in, she spied it - a tiny bundle of sticks and moss nestled in a nook of an ancient oak. Hope surged within her breast. With a mighty sweep of her wings, she dove through the tempest. She would reach her babies or die trying.
Mother Crow finally reached it and hastily wrapped her wings around her chicks.
“There, there, my children. Take my warmth and keep yourselves safe.”
She covered them with her body, prepared to take the brunt of whatever came next.
Maximus Klimt was not to be trifled with. Four foot three and not a day over eight, he was proud of his secret adventures in the gutters of that town. From overcoming the mouse overlords to inflicting his terrors on the local goose colony, he held a reputation of fear among the creatures that resided in and around Miltenberg.
At home, he was a proper son. Seen but not heard unless spoken to, it was a rarity he would receive lashings. But, when it came time to join the other children on the playground or leave his home to entertain himself in the outside world, he became another child entirely – a symbol of terror and mischievous activity.
Maximus was thrilled to see the aftermath of that great blizzard. He wondered how many dead creatures he could collect, how many pieces of broken signs and fences he could add to his collection.
As soon as he finished his porridge and his mother gave him the approving nod he was looking for, out the door he fled. Snow was packed high when he opened it, towering several feet above his head. He dived in, climbing to the surface of the ice, and made his way out into the world to wreak havoc.
It was when he got to that ancient oak tree in the courtyard that he heard the cries.
Chirp, Chirp, they went, high in the branches of the tree.
Maximus could only make out glimpses of the frozen Mother Crow on top of them.
“Frozen solid,” he said, excited.
This frozen bird was, without a doubt, a desired possession for him. Before this, he had only collected pieces of crows, whether it was a foot here or there or a half decaying body. This crow was fully intact, preserved by the very ice that took her life. But he had to get her down.
The branches were too high up for him to climb, so he did the second-best thing. He walked and collected as many stones as he could carry, bringing them back to the tree. One by one, he threw them, each one knocking the nest a little more than before.
The baby chicks cried out, terrified.
In one final throw, Maximus gave it all his might, even straining the muscles in his arms. The stone hit the nest violently, sending it tumbling down to the ground.
The chicks’ cries went silent – their four little bodies scattered about the snow.
Maximus was utterly fascinated by their lifeless forms. Their bodies were cockeyed, their legs over their heads, some of their eyes were hanging out of their faces. Little droplets of blood speckled the snow.
Maximus admired the scene, it was beautiful to him, like crimson paint splattered onto a blank canvas. He poked their little bodies with a stick, even driving it into their little heads and watching them pop.
A scream came from behind him.
There, dressed in black from head to toe, was an old woman, her skin wrinkled like a prune. She pointed a crumbling finger towards him.
“What are you doing,” she screamed.
Maximus threw the stick and leapt backwards.
“Nothing! The nest fell!”
The old woman sneered.
“I saw you. I know what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything! I promise!”
The fear Maximus felt was paralyzing, never had he a witness or an adult one at that.
“Your promises are poison,” she snapped.
“What is the difference?” Maximus said. “They are already dead.”
“What would your darling mother do if she knew these were the games you got up to in this yard? She’s in there, doing the washing, you’re out here, killing a mother and her chicks! I ought to curse ye. I ought to tear your skin off and boil the meat from your bones.”
Maximus felt rage rise from his chest. He wanted this hag to disappear just like the birds in the snow. She was clearly a deranged, classless vagabond with no direction. This woman could only dream of being in the presence of his beautiful mother.
“Be gone, woman,” shot Maximus, “I have no time to talk to the likes of you. My mother said to not converse with any strangers. Especially ugly old hags.”
The old woman laughed with a terrifying, icy cackle.
“I won’t be no stranger by the time I’m done with ye.”
A snap of her fingers and shackles grew up from the ground and locked around Maximus’ wrists. He panicked.
“How did you…”
Around him, the snow disappeared, and walls grew around him. What was, a moment ago, a courtyard, was now a full fledge courtroom. Crows of every shape and size were in the audience, cawing over one another.
In the judge’s seat was another crow, dressed in robes and a wig, the proper attire for a judge of great authority.
“Enough, silence in the court!”
She slammed her hammer down several times, and the disgruntled crows went silent. Her eyes shot to Maximus who was cowering, confused and fearful. She looked down at the parchment in front of her, a look of disgust inched its way across her face.
“Maximus Klimt – you stand before this court with accusations that are so shocking and cruel that it makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Please,” belted Maximus, withholding his tears, “I meant no harm. Please let me go home.”
The old woman’s icy cackle came from the back of the room. Maximus turned and saw her standing there in the entry way.
“Everyone who comes to this courtroom says the same thing,” the judge said. “They commit a crime and want everyone to sympathize and cry for them. Where was the sympathy for Mother Crow and her babies?”
The crows in the audience all erupted in hysteria. The judge slammed her hammer down again.
“Order, order,” she spoke. “What do you have to say in your defense?”
“I didn’t realize my actions would lead to their deaths.”
The crows erupted again but the judge did not silence them. She leaned forward in her chair and glared straight down into his soul.
“You threw stones at a nest, with chicks crying for their mother, and did not realize your actions would lead to their deaths?”
“I didn’t know.”
The judge looked around the room at all her fellow crows in disgust.
“Not only are you a murderer,” she said, “but a liar and a cheat. Just like your father before you.”
“But they would’ve died anyway.”
Gasps arose from every corner of the room.
“I watched ye,” the haggish woman said walking through the pews to the main floor, “day after day, night after night - smashing, looting, chasing, inflicting fear. You cannot see past the end of your own pointed nose!”
“Such awfulness cannot go unpunished,” said the judge. “All in favor of the maximum punishment for Maximus Klimt?”
Overwhelming cries from the crows told Maximus all he needed to know – his fate was sealed. This was it, the end of his journey.
As the judge slammed her hammer down, a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins. He couldn’t let them get away with this – what would his mother say if he didn’t return home?
Cheers rained in from the audience, Crows hugging one another – rejoicing that justice had finally been dealt.
Maximus grabbed the chain connecting his wrists and pulled as hard as he could, uprooting them from the soil. He twirled it up and brought it close to his chest – this was his chance. He shot himself towards the door, dodging the grasps of the many crows at his sides.
“Cease him,” called the judge.
“He must pay for his sins,” called the haggish woman.
Maximus pushed open the massive oak doors and found himself in a long, seemingly endless hallway, lit by a line of torchlight. It did not matter to Maximus where it led, as long it led away from whatever fate they had in store for him.
A stampede followed him- curses, calls for his head.
The line of torches came to a stop and soon Maximus was running in complete darkness. He stretched out his arms to ensure he did not harm himself by running into a wall or worse.
His foot suddenly caught a ledge and he felt himself fall – a pit? He fell and fell, forever it seemed.
The voices that called after him faded out and all that was left was himself, his memories, and the inevitable conclusion that awaits anyone at the bottom of a massive pit.
And then, Maximus opened his eyes.
A howl like that of a train came from outside his room. His windows were frosted over, appearing as if someone had smeared icing over the entire glass. The roof of his bedroom creaked and groaned, and then, a puncture appeared. Snow from the blizzard rushed in and then the entire roof was pulled up by it. It was as if this storm was a great giant, pummeling and taking apart his home.
Maximus wrapped himself in his blanket in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the piercing ice.
The door flew open and there stood his mother, holding onto the frame, trying desperately to fight against the wind threatening to suck her up into oblivion.
“Maximus,” she called, “we have to leave!”
Maximus jumped out of his bed, clinging to his blanket, and ran to his mother’s arms. His bedroom blew apart, lost in a white blanket of snow.
They made their way through the home. Each room, each plank, disassembled and tore apart behind them. Just like that, they were flung into the white abyss, nowhere to go, and nothing they could see.
Maximus felt a cold he had never felt before, every part of his body shivered and felt numb. His cheeks burned from the ice and no matter how hard he tried to shield himself, it was no use.
“I am so cold, Mother,” he said.
He could feel his mother’s hand shaking in his.
“Come here,” she said.
Maximus’ mother took him into her arms and laid him on the ground. She laid on top of him, the blanket over them both. She rubbed his arms, trying her best to keep him warm. And then…
Smack.
Two giant rocks fell on top of them, crushing their bones, painting the snow that crimson red he admired so.
Maximus opened his eyes with a gasp. Before him was the scene of devastation - two small figures buried under rubble. But as he looked closer, the broken forms shifted. No longer a mother and child, but two crows.
Confusion flooded his mind. Had it all been a vision? Had he never left that courtyard? Hands trembling, he reached out with his stick to turn the mother crow over. The bloodied face that looked back at him was his mother's.
“Maximus,” she cried, “What have you done? You killed them! You killled my babies!”
Maximus’ eyes grew wide — a pain shot straight through his chest. His mother…what did they do to her? What did he do to her? He fell to his knees and wept. He picked his mangled crow mother up in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said to whoever could listen, “please, don’t do this. Please save my mother, she is innocent in all this.”
As the life slowly slipped from her frail body, a familiar icy cackle could be heard trailing the wind.
Maximus knew there was no undoing what he had done.