A Murmuration of Starlings
Fiction - by Craig Crawford
Cassie bounded off the front step and pointed. I followed her out the door and down the driveway. I hung close on her heels like a wraith: seven-year-olds aren’t aware of things like cars in streets.
She stood fixated on the swooping starlings across the street. I stopped in awe too. Hundreds, probably thousands cavorted overhead, chirping en masse as they swung at the edge of our neighborhood. They weaved back and forth like a long, dark serpent.
Across a four-lane road, empty fields lay undeveloped. Scant trees dotted the ground, but I saw hundreds more starlings perched within their branches, talking to each other. The chatter all but drowned out the traffic.
“Daddy, it’s so cool,” she said, her hands in the air as if she might grab on and fly with them.
“Yeah, it is, punkin’. Don’t go any further,” I said. “The road.”
“I know,” she said in the unmistakable tone of having heard those exact words at least a hundred times before.
“They are really cool, the way they follow each other,” I muttered, caught up in the spectacle.
Our next-door neighbor, Madeline McKinley stepped out her front door in shorts and crocs. The chill sundown air didn’t suggest shorts to me, but then I’m not tough like that. “Hi Allen. It’s incredible.”
“And it’s free entertainment.” I gestured toward Cassie.
Madeline laughed and took pictures from her phone.
I watched the starlings, mesmerized at the synchronicity. We witnessed the display at various times during the year and aside from the noise, it was something to see.
They swung left, cutting to the edge of the road, then undulated back and away. I couldn’t tell if some thermal current diverted them before crossing over onto our side of the street or if some internal compass bent them on another path, but every bird in the skyward trail followed those before them.
They banked into a coil and Cassie sucked in a breath. She ran back to me, grabbing my leg.
“What’s up?”
Her eyes followed the swarm. “They talked to me.”
“Who?” I asked.
The birds scattered, returning to their tendril pattern and fired across the open field, weaving in and out again.
“I want to go inside,” and she tugged on my pant leg.
I scooped her up and headed for the front door, the squawking a steady drone behind us. “What did you hear?” I asked her.
She scrunched up her face but said no more.
“Let’s go see what’s cooking,” I said.
Tom met us at the door, peeling a potholder from his right hand. “There you are. Dinner’s ready.”
“Sorry. We were watching the starlings.”
“They’re all worked up for sure,” he said, opening the door for us.
“What’s for dinner, Toddy?” Cassie asked.
Having two dads is a little problematic if you consider sticking with the usual parent designations., because either one or both of us will answer when you call for ‘Dad.’ Even though Cassie was mine biologically, Tom and I talked through different options, not wanting to downplay his role or create some silly title like, ‘Dad-2.’
Cassie solved it for us at four years old by merging his first name with the standard, calling him Toddy.
“I made manicotti with garlic bread, and peas because they’re your favorite.”
She grinned. “Yay. “
Tom was the cook—he loved tackling recipes and trying out dishes on us, and I was more than happy to let him loose in the kitchen.
After dinner, we helped Cassie with her meager homework which included reading Charlotte’s Web. I handed that story off to Tom a week back—he had the stronger constitution when it involved sad parts in books. He only gave me a squeeze, telling me he’d finish it with her.
I kissed Cassie goodnight and headed downstairs for a workout and a little TV. I got lost in a documentary until Tom thumped down the stairs. “She’s asleep,” he said, and he settled in next to me on the couch.
“You finish?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. He added a couple of ‘tsks.’ “It’s why it’s a classic, Allen. If you don’t cry for Charlotte at the end, you don’t have a soul.”
“Well then I’ve got soul to spare. I can’t take that stuff. You ever read Where the Red Fern Grows?”
“Yeah,” Tom said, grinning. “It’s like a rite of passage in grade school.”
“Mrs. Graham, my fifth-grade teacher, forced the principal to come down to finish the end with us because she couldn’t take it.”
Tom’s face turned serious. “Before Cassie closed her eyes, she told me the birds talked to her.”
I sobered. “The starlings?”
“Yeah. She told me I was going to have a party.”
“A party?” I asked. “She didn’t tell me that.”
“I asked her what she meant, but she didn’t say anything else other than the birds told her.”
“Weird. We watched them swirling around the sky until she ran back to me and told me the same thing.”
“Kids and their imaginations.”
I dropped Cassie off to school the next morning, and headed to work. Buried in designs on a new bridge for one of the colleges we worked with, I barely looked up until late morning. I didn’t even reach for my tea until it turned cold.
Adel Andrews, my support admin, finally peeked in. “You coming up for air any time soon?”
“Just stuck on some details,” I said, tapping the side of my head, “and I need to keep it all in here before I lose it?
“Did you get outside last night?” she asked. “I think spring is here to stay.”
“We stood at the end of our driveway and watched the starlings flying overhead.”
Adel grinned. “A murmuration?”
I frowned.
“You never heard that?... When the birds gather and fly in sync, they call it a murmuration.”
“I didn’t know that. Huh, I learned something new today. Last night Cassie and I watched the ‘murmuration’ for a while. It was incredible.”
“Chet and I went to the Summer’s Pavilion last year and about dusk we watched thousands of birds in the sky. I’m surprised the county doesn’t thin them out or something.”
“Not very green,” I told her. “The birds may annoy people, but they probably eat a lot of bugs.”
I finished the day out and Tom picked Cassie up from school. Cassie wanted to watch the starlings again before the sun disappeared, but from our front window on the back of the couch.
“Don’t you want to go outside?” Tom asked her.
“No,” she said.
“How come?”
“The birds are still talking.”
Tom and I traded a look.
“Talking?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “They want to tell me more, but they scare me.”
I joined her at the window. “Can you hear them now?”
She watched and her eyes followed the tide of starlings sliding through the air like a rollercoaster. She slapped the back of the couch. “No!”
“What is it?” Tom asked.
“They said three things are going to happen before they decide.”
Tom and I traded another look. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “I hear their chattering, but I don’t hear any words.”
“They know when things are going to happen,” Cassie stated.
“Like Toddy’s party?” I asked.
She looked at me, her dark curls accentuating her confusion. She appeared to think it over. “Yes. Did you have a party today, Toddy?”
“Not yet,” he answered, “but I hope one happens. It would be fun.”
“It’s the birds,” she said. “But it’s not. It’s like a voice talks through them. Didn’t you hear it?”
“The birds make a lot of noise when they’re flying,” I told her. “Sometimes your imagination makes you think you hear things.”
“I didn’t think it up,” she said. “I heard the voice,” and she quieted, staring out the window. “It makes them talk.”
“Who?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know.”
I glanced at Tom who only stared back wide-eyed. “Do you hear voices any other times?” Tom asked.
“No,” she said. “Just when the birds are flying. I don’t like it.”
“What have you been reading at school?” Tom asked.
“We’re going to start Winnie the Pooh next week,” she said excitedly.
“Cassie,” Tom asked, “What did you mean about things happening? You told us three things are going to happen. ”
She frowned. “I don’t know, Toddy.”
“Did they tell you what the three things are?” I asked.
“Just that there are two more things to tell me.”
Tom soured. “You also mentioned deciding. What does that mean?”
Cassie looked back to the window. I opened my mouth to repeat Tom’s question, but Cassie beat me to it. “It’s seeing who listens the best,” she said.
“Who?”
Cassie shrugged. “The voice in the birds.”
I peeked out the window, watching the huge wave of birds repeating last night’s performance. I listened for a time, but I heard nothing other than the staccato white noise of their chattering. “Are they still talking to you?”
“No. They quit. What’s for dinner?”
We scuttled through the rest of the evening without bringing up the starlings again. Tom and I looked at Cassie’s teacher’s online syllabus, but found no stories or reading that would have spiked her imagination. Of the two of us, I was the more traditionally creative one. Tom, being a lawyer, didn’t tend toward a lot of fanciful imaginative stimulation. In the end, we assumed it revolved around her own ever-expanding imagination, even though we determined to keep an eye on her.
The next morning, our girl popped out of bed all smiles and said no more about the voice. We rolled through our morning rituals and I picked her up after school. Tom worked later and promised to bring home food, so it didn’t surprise me when he called.
“Chicken is always a hit with the kid,” I told him, “But we can get that from almost anywhere.”
“What are you thinking?” Tom asked me.
“I’m thinking Asian. Something spicy.”
He laughed. Tom did not eat many spicy things and I never had to share leftovers. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, hesitating.
“What?” I asked, knowing he was baiting me.
“We finished the civil case. It was the big one. The other side finally settled,” and he quieted. “We’re going to celebrate Friday night at Keith’s house . . . I’m having a party.”
“Wow. Think our girl has a future as a fortune teller?”
“Maybe. If she does, we need to get her on the lottery numbers.”
I snorted. While I didn’t buy all of the weird stuff about aliens and giant apes in the woods, I kept an open mind on ghosts and mental abilities. Growing up, I’d lived in an old farm house and Dad and I both swore we saw shadows and shapes on certain nights. Tom always laughed my stories off with eye rolling and talk of pareidolia. “I’ll tell Cassie and ask about the lottery numbers.”
Tom brought home chicken bites in addition to Tom’s and my Asian dishes. He also added extra eggrolls because Cassie did like those. Tom quizzed her over the party talk, but couldn’t get anything more out of her other than the voice in the birds.
“It’s coincidence,” Tom finally decided after we settled Cassie for bed.
“She said they were going to tell her three things,” I said, grinning. “I’d say that qualifies as one.”
“Stop. I do not buy into all of that foreboding stuff.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s like astrology, numerology and all those other ologies. If you look hard enough and long enough you can find patterns in all kinds of things.”
“I believe they refer to that as ‘synchronicities.’”
He waggled his finger at me. “Don’t you start. You’ll get spooked and then freak her out more than she already is.”
The next day at work, in between meetings and drawings of the bridge, I spent a few minutes Googling ESP in children, precognition, and a host of other terms. Lost in my investigation I didn’t even stir when Adel appeared in the doorway. I jerked in my chair when she knocked.
“Sorry,” she said. “You were engrossed and I didn’t want to bug you, but it is almost lunch.”
“Sorry,” I replied. “Just lost in something.”
“What’s up? Some problem with the bridge specs?”
“No,” I said, gauging Adel. “You like weird stuff,” I started.
She eyed me suspiciously. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Oh, it’s not creepy, just strange.”
“That’s too bad,” Adel said. “Creepy is more my speed.”
I laughed. “Okay, maybe this will pique your interest. Cassie’s been hearing voices.”
“Seriously?”
I threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know. It started with the starlings. She says they’re talking to her and telling her things.”
Adel’s eyebrows raised. “The starlings?”
“Yeah. That first night when we watched them doing their . . . what’s the name for it again?”
“Murmuration. The birds talked to her?”
“She says they did. Supposedly they told her Tom was going to have a party. Last night he won a big case, and Friday the partners are throwing a party.”
“Really,” she muttered.
“Yeah. Cassie said the birds were going to tell her three things. And then decide something.” Before she could answer, I added, “I know, it’s crazy stuff. Tom just thinks it’s coincidence—which it probably is.”
“There is a precedent for this,” she said.
I fell silent.
“Back in the days of the Romans they had people called augurs who read bird signs.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Adel said. “These people were priests who watched bird behavior in order to get signals from the gods about what to do or not to do. They paid attention to lone birds, flocks, and even starlings. There are several cases where Roman emperors made decisions based on what their priests gleaned.” Adel stared at the wall for several moments. “You think Cassie is one of these people?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it, but you can bet I’m going to read up on it now. It didn’t say anything about being good listeners, did it?”
“You had to be able to prove you could read the signs well,” Adel said. “I’ll do some research for you,” she added. “This is right up my alley.”
That afternoon I picked Cassie up from school and after dumping her book bag, I headed to the window.
“What ’cha doing, Daddy?”
“I wanted to watch the birds again.”
“We can go outside,” she said.
“I thought you didn’t like them.”
“So far they’re telling me good things. Is Laura going to babysit when you go to Toddy’s party tomorrow night?”
“Yes. That’s alright, isn’t it?” I asked as we went back out.
Cassie nodded vigorously. “Laura always brings games and she likes the same things I like even though she’s big.”
I laughed. “Yes she does.”
Standing in the driveway, we watched the starlings rev up for the evening. They swooped and dove and banked like the other nights. I kept one eye on Cassie, but they still awed me. I tried listening to their constant screeching, but it only sounded like thousands of birds to me.
A thought occurred and I took out my phone. I pulled up an audio recorder and flipped it on. I doubted I was going to pick up any subliminal messages in the bird warblings, but I decided it was worth a shot. I’d doubtless take crap from Tom but I didn’t care. I had a mystery to solve.
Cassie waved as they dove past from the opposite side of the street and over the field. Whatever fear had filled her seemed to have dissipated, which relieved me. Cassie stood still for several moments and tilted her head sideways.
I cranked the volume on my phone and walked up next to her. I scoured the expression on her face, looking for some clue, but she zoned out like when she was engrossed in some show.
Cassie’s head snapped up. “Daddy!”
“What is it?” I asked. “Are the birds talking again?”
She nodded fiercely. “This is important.”
“Ok. What is it?”
“Your bridge,” Cassie said. “The rainbows are wrong.”
I frowned. “Rainbows? Bridges don’t have rainbows.”
She traced an arc in front of her. “The rainbows. Bridges do have rainbows.”
I watched her trace the rainbow shape in the air again and nodded. “You mean the arches?”
“Yeah,” she said. “They look like rainbows. It told me you need to change them.”
“What? Why?”
Cassie’s face scrunched up and she turned back to the starlings. I ran through the specs in my head. “Our team was pretty thorough,” I said. “I think our numbers are accurate.”
Cassie held up a hand, shushing me so she could concentrate. I grinned at her action, but I looked from her to the starlings. I heard absolutely nothing. Certainly no words.
“Kids get hurt,” she finally answered.
“Kids get hurt?” I repeated. “How?”
“Up high,” Cassie said. “It showed me a picture of kids falling and getting hurt.”
“I . . . there won’t be any kids up there. They’re . . .” and the specs rifled behind my eyes. The arches we planned to build rose maybe twenty feet upward, but the original drawings caught in my head. I saw the grade and the slope of the arches. “I’ll be damned . . .” I muttered.
“Daddy!” Cassie shouted. “You said a bad word!”
“Sorry, punkin’,” I said. “You’re right. Tell me what they said about the rainbows again.”
“It wasn’t the birds. It was the voice in them. It said the way you’re going to build the bridge is dangerous for the big kids.”
A shiver crept down my back. I looked at my little girl unable to fathom what was happening. “You heard the voice tell you that?”
“Yes,” Cassie asserted. “Is it true?”
“I need to check my drawings, but I think you’re right, hon. This is crazy.”
“What’s crazy?”
I laughed. “Talking birds. I still can’t hear them.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. The voice says only a few can do it and that’s what it’s watching for.”
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s going to decide who hears the best.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know,” Cassie replied. “It didn’t tell me that yet. When’s Toddy coming home?”
“It’s about that time. We’re planning a breakfast dinner. Is that okay?”
“Pancakes?” Cassie asked.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “I can’t cook all of the tasty things your Toddy can, but I can do pancakes.”
Cassie laughed. “You’re not a very good cook like Toddy,” she said, “But it’s okay Daddy. You’re good at stuff too.”
“Thanks kiddo. We better get inside.”
I kept our talk to myself that night at dinner and Cassie talked a lot about Winnie the Pooh. We went for a walk and talked about getting the bicycles out for the season. Later, we put Cassie to bed and I headed for my drawing room.
I set my phone on a drafting board and pulled up the recording from the afternoon. Hitting play, I retrieved the specs of the bridge on my laptop and studied the arches.
Tom popped in bringing me a glass of wine. “What’s that noise?”
“I recorded the birds while Cassie and I were outside this afternoon. And no, I’m not hearing any voices. Yet. However, she made another prediction,” and I paused the recording.
Tom looked warily at me. “Really? Now what?”
“She told me the arches on my bridge are dangerous,” and I pulled up the preliminary drawings spanning the river between the campus and the art buildings on the far side.
“How does she know?”
“She talked about big kids falling. I didn’t make the connection at first, but look at this,” I said, indicating the arches. “They’re about two feet across and the grade is steep, but not that steep.”
“I don’t understand,” he said leaning over my shoulder.
“There’s nothing to keep kids from climbing up there.”
“Why would kids climb up there?” he asked and sipped from his glass. “Oh,” he said, and from his eyes, I saw he understood.
“Yeah. Most people wouldn’t do it, but college kids on a Friday night? Some drunken moron will walk right up them and either fall off or try to jump in the river.”
“Yeah they will,” he said. “I remember some college stupidity in my past. What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to have to re-spec the arches is what I’m going to do. I don’t know why we didn’t think about this in the beginning.”
“Because you’re not a college kid,” Tom said. “Actually, what I meant is what are we going to do about Cassie? I don’t understand what’s going on, but it’s . . . unsettling.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, my eyes still on the bridge pictures.
Tom kissed me on the cheek. “Don’t spend too much time on it,” he said.
“I guess we’ve got a little augur in our midst.”
“A what?”
“Huh? Oh, I was talking to Adel today. She’s into weird things like horror and the paranormal. She told me the Romans used to use priests called augurs to get blessings from the gods based on how the birds behaved and chirped.”
Tom snorted. “Middle Age mischief.”
“You tell me how she’s doing it,” I said.
“Whatever’s going on, I’m guessing it’s a phase she’ll grow out of.”
“Maybe. In the meantime, maybe she can help you with your next case.”
Tom raised a finger. “Only three times,” he reminded me. “Between my party and your bridge, that’s two. She only gets one more message and then supposedly it’s done.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Tonight, she told me the voice, or whatever it is, is deciding who listens the best.”
“Huh. You think other children are getting signs too?” He asked.
“I have no idea, but it’s probably not something I’m going to bring up at the next school function,” I said. “Hi, Mr. Desmond, how are you doing? Oh, by the way, the birds haven’t been talking to Bradley have they, because they’ve been chewing Cassie’s ear off.”
He laughed and came over, and slipping his hand around my shoulder, hugged me. “And that’s why I love you. Your imagination is almost as big as Cassie’s.”
The next day at the office I brought up my concerns to our team and presented new drawings I scratched out the previous night. They hadn’t thought of that particular issue either and we spent the bulk of the day working on a new plan.
Adel caught me at the end of our meeting. She followed me back to my office and I could tell by the look in her eyes, she was about to explode. She closed the door behind her. “Why did you decide to change the bridge specs?”
“Cassie’s the reason we’re changing the design.”
Adel looked at me as if waiting for a joke.
“I don’t understand it either,” I said. “She told me the bridge was dangerous.”
“Did she see your drawings?”
“Nope,” and I unleashed a smile. “The birds told her.”
Adel’s eyebrows raised. “For real?”
“I don’t know. I give up. She was right though. You saw my proposal?”
“Yeah. Did she have a vision?”
“Now you’re talking supernatural,” I said.
“I don’t know how else to explain it,” Adel said. “I did some research last night, and I’m guessing by your presentation, you didn’t, so I’ll just tell you.”
“I did make a recording of the bird sounds outside, but I listened to it twice while I was reworking the drawings and didn’t hear anything. What have you got?”
“According to stories, these augurs read signs in the birds' flight patterns and how they swooped and darted about. Supposedly the gods spoke to them through these movements. Except,” Adel said, emphasizing with a raised finger, “From what I gather, the gods didn’t actually speak to these priests. They just read the signs and omens like people who deal tarot cards or read tea leaves.”
“So, Cassie is crazy because she hears them talking to her? Wait,” I corrected, “She told me it wasn’t the birds, but a voice coming through the birds.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
“The Romans had oracles who spoke directly to the gods,” Adel told me. “Or, the gods spoke to people through oracles. The Greeks did too, but they had different names for them.”
“So now ancient Roman gods are talking to Cassie? Adel, you’re dragging me down a rabbit hole.”
“Calls ‘em as I sees ‘em—or hears ‘em,” Adel said. “Phoebus supposedly spoke directly to a couple of his chosen oracles.”
“Phoebus? What was he the god of?”
“Sorry. In Greek mythology he was Apollo, God of the light, the sun, music and prophecy. And a few other things. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” and I didn’t. Cassie didn’t seem crazy to me. I mean, I’m her dad so I admit my bias, but she didn’t display crazy behavior other than her interactions with the birds. “Cassie said they . . . I mean the voice was only going to talk to her three times. Counting the party and now the bridge, that only leaves one more time.”
“Did she say what happens after that?”
I hesitated, not sure I wanted to share the last part. It sounded crazier than something talking to her through the birds. “She said it was going to decide.”
Adel’s eyes widened. “Decide what?”
“I don’t know. Cassie’s been really vague about it, but she says it’s like it’s testing her to see how well she listens. ‘Whoever listens the best’ is how she put it.”
“And then what?”
“She didn’t know. It creeps me out. Whatever is going on, it’s been showing her good things, like the party, and helping me fix the bridge design.”
“So, like giving advice,” Adel said.
“You think she’s talking to some Roman God?”
“I don’t know about that,” Adel said. “but I’d keep an eye on her. Whatever is happening, it’s real enough.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
I finished out my day and met Tom and Cassie at home. Cassie’s baby sitter, Laura, was already there, he car sat in our driveway. Tom, changed into a button-down shirt and khakis and shot me his ‘time to get a move on’ look. The party officially started in an hour and I was notorious for making him late, but I took time to chat a bit with Laura before getting outfitted for the party.
I eyed the birds as we headed to the car. They soared and babbled in the field just like other nights. I heard no ominous gods behind the chatter, however. Tom patted me on the leg as I backed out of the driveway, reassuring me Cassie would be alright.
I played designated driver, but neither of us drank heavily. I knew most of the people Tom worked with and the evening ticked by quickly, me only occasionally checking time or letting my thoughts stray to Cassie. Laura would call if anything came up. She had cared for Cassie when she’d attended daycare and I trusted her completely.
I still felt tension leave my shoulders when we arrived home. Cassie was asleep and Laura lay on the couch talking to her friends through her laptop. Laura confirmed a quiet evening filled with hide and seek, board games, a snack, and a story before bed.
I don’t know what I expected to happen. Everything Cassie predicted fell into the realm of innocuous, or even helpful.
Tom and I looked in on her and then headed to bed.
I woke the next morning, rolling to my side seeing the clock ticking at a little past seven. A sound hit my ears: crying.
I shot out of bed in my nightshirt and shorts.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, popping awake.
“Cassie’s crying.” It’s a funny thing being a parent. It starts when they’re little, but you key in on your kid. Even in a crowded room you can pick their cry out against a dozen others. “Cassie?” I called.
I checked her room—empty. I headed down the hall and reaching the living room, I found her on the couch. She slapped the back cushion. “No!” She snapped.
“Cassie.”
“No,” she barked again. “You make it go away!”
I sidled in next to her. “Cassie, what’s wrong?”
Her head spun my way and she immediately burst into tears. I hugged her as Tom reached us. “Daddy, tell it no,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked.
Cassie cried hard, burying her head into my shoulder. We rode it out, Tom questioning me with his eyes but I could only shrug back. She calmed after a couple of minutes, and I tried again. “What’s wrong, hon?”
She looked up, a mixture of sadness and anger on her face. “There’s going to be a storm,” she said and more tears dribbled from her eyes.
“The birds told you that?”
She nodded.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s spring. We get storms all the time.”
Cassie shook her head back and forth. “It’s going to be bad.”
“Like a thunderstorm?”
She nodded.
“Hon,” Tom said, “We’ve seen lots of storms from this house. We’ll be fine.”
She looked up at me, and the dad sense kicked in. “What else?”
New tears formed. “I see blood,” she said and started crying all over again.
“Blood?”
She nodded into my shoulder again, crying harder than before. I comforted her as best I could, waiting for a substantial amount of time before trying to get more out of her. “Who’s blood?” I finally asked.
“Yours Daddy. Please don’t die.”
Thankfully Tom sat on her other side, stepping in and stroking her hair. “Cassie, hon, Allen’s not going to die. It’s just a dream.”
“It’s like before,” she said. “Daddy’s going to get hurt and there’s lots of blood. You’re hurt too, Toddy. I don’t want you to go away.”
“We’re not going away,” Tom said. “It will be alright. We’ll hide in the house and be safe as can be. Your dad designed this place. It’s built better than most of the other houses on the block.”
“Did your voice in the birds tell you?” I asked.
She snuffled and nodded. “It showed me the storm and both of you hurt. I’m going to get lost in the storm.”
Tom and I traded a look.
“Did it say anything else?” I asked.
“It kept showing me the number seven.”
“What?”
“It told me seven over and over. Seven is the sacred number. Seven is what it takes.”
“Takes?” I asked. “Like seven more messages? Did it say what it meant?” I asked.
Cassie shook her head.
“Do you know who this person is in the birds?”
More head shaking.
Tom had his phone and he looked up after fiddling with it. “We are supposed to get a storm tonight. Some wind and thunder and lightning, but nothing crazy. Cassie, I tell you we’re going to be okay.”
“We could head out for the weekend,” I said.
Tom frowned. “Why?”
I gestured toward Cassie with my eyes. “Punkin’, we can get out of town if you’re worried.”
Cassie looked up. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, a resigned tone filling her words. “It will find us. We should stay here.”
“Why?”
“The voice told me this is important. It said they’re coming back.”
“Who?”
“The ones who used to live above the world. They said I listened the best.”
“What does that mean?”
“They need people to talk for them.”
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get some breakfast and we’ll sort this out. We love you and we’re not going to let anything happen to you. It’s like Toddy says. We’re going to be alright, storm or no.”
“Okay, Daddy,” but I hadn’t convinced her of anything.
I kept her focused on breakfast and Tom made some phone calls. I knew very little about schizophrenia, but I was pretty sure it didn’t manifest until adulthood or late teens. Still, we had to figure something out. Cassie believed everything she told us.
Tom took over while I showered. I planned out the rest of the day, determined to keep her mind off the coming storm. We ran a couple of errands, but the entire time Cassie watched the clouds. Between the two of us, Tom and I entertained her for the bulk of the day, distracting her with anything and everything we could think of.
I hoped she’d calm down after we weathered the storm, but Tom made an appointment for the following week.
I puzzled over the number seven Cassie talked about but seven o’clock arrived and passed with no repercussions. I tried asking her more, but she didn’t seem to know anything except it was important.
We watched the clouds roll in at dusk and Cassie kept insisting she was okay despite Tom and I asking every few minutes. She colored until dinner, but she kept looking out the window.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"I don't know, either,” Tom said. “We stay with her all night. We keep her safe and in the morning she’ll see it was just her imagination.”
“I’m more worried about me,” I said, smiling.
Tom hugged me. “It’ll be alright. I’ll keep you both safe.”
The wind started in and Cassie whimpered.
“Let’s go to your room,” I suggested. “We’ll be safer in there. There’s only one window.”
“Okay.”
We holed up there, Tom with his phone and a tablet to monitor the storm. I grabbed the larger tablet I used for work and we loaded up her favorite Disney movie. My focus danced back and forth between the storm and Cassie, gauging how she was doing.
We made it through the first half when she looked up. “It’s almost time, Daddy.”
“Time for what?”
Tears formed in her eyes. “I have to go.”
“Go where?” Tom asked.
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“The voice?” I asked.
She nodded and hugged me tight. “I love you, Daddy.”
“We’re not leaving your side,” I said.
Tom sat on her bed and she hugged him too. “I love you too, Toddy. It said for me to remember the number seven. You remember too.”
“Why?” Tom asked. “What does it mean?”
Cassie shook her head. “It wouldn’t tell me.”
Lightning flashed outside Cassie’s window. Thunder shook the house one solitary second later. The lights flickered and I heard the wind gust against the walls. “Basement?” I asked.
Tom nodded. “Yeah, Let’s go.”
I scooped Cassie up and we headed out of her room toward the kitchen.
The lights died and I muttered an obscenity. The light from our tablets kept us going, but Cassie didn’t even comment on my curse word. She hugged me tightly.
Cutting through the hall we reached the kitchen. A sound reached my ears, like a whirring, but I couldn’t place it. The storm shook the house and our back door slammed open. I jumped. I know Tom did too. He headed for it and lightning flashed again.
The rush of the wind ground in my ears, sounding like white noise and I had a split second to jerk sideways, putting my back to the door. The house shuddered and the windows blew inward. It felt like a bomb exploded all around us.
I slammed into the cupboards, shielding Cassie with my arms and body. My head smacked the granite countertop and we thudded to the floor. I heard Tom yell, but I couldn’t do anything. My back hurt, and my head throbbed.
Cassie slipped out from my grasp, my arms losing their strength. “Daddy,” she said.
In the shadowed light from one of the tablets on the floor I saw blood on my arm, glass sticking into my shirt. Cassie took my hand, big tears in her eyes, and helped me behind our central kitchen island.
“Cassie,” I said. “Stay down. I’ll get Tom.”
“If I don’t go, it will keep after me.”
“Cassie, you’re my daughter. You’re staying with us.”
“The voice said they’re going to teach me.”
I reached for her, but she stepped back. I raised up, but my head burned and I felt dripping at the side of my head. I called out for her, but she backed away. “It’s the only way to keep you and Toddy safe, Daddy.”
Cassie backed out of the kitchen toward the living room.
“Tom,” I got out.
He moaned over the wind and rain pouring in through the open door and windows.
I crawled for Cassie, but she outpaced me. My arm stung and my head didn’t like me moving, but I ignored it all and inched after her. I bellowed her name, but she didn’t answer. The storm raged all around us and reaching the threshold to the living room, I saw glass scattered all over the carpet.
The front door stood wide open and Cassie was gone.
They haven’t found her.
Three weeks of searches, day after day, and my Cassie is gone. They’ve searched the fields across the street, canvassed door to door, and looked absolutely everywhere, but they didn’t even find a shoe.
I don’t care about the stitches or the concussion. I need my little girl.
Tom suffered similar injuries, but he survived. We go out every day with the search parties, but a sickening feeling tells me we’re not finding her.
I spend most of my free time reading books on these oracles Adel talked about. She helps me dig deeper into legends and lore, looking for clues as to what occurred and what it all means. Sometimes the old gods used to take humans to turn them into heroes and oracles.
I’ve listened to the phone recording I made, but I never hear anything but the birds. Tom nor Adel either.
I sit outside just before dusk and watch the starlings continue their dance in the sky even though they don’t talk to me. Apparently, I don’t listen like my daughter did. The only piece of driftwood keeping me afloat is Cassie’s last words and the number seven.
Cassie told us “they” were coming back. I may not want to know what that means unless it includes seeing her.
I turned the number seven over in my head a thousand ways and came up with nothing. Adel dug into the background of the gods and specifically Apollo. It turns out the oracles associated Apollo with the number seven. Cassie is seven. In seven years, she’ll be fourteen.
I don’t know if I’m right or grasping, but I cling to that number for dear life, praying it’s what the voice meant. I hope it means my daughter will come back to us.
It’s all I have left of her.