The birds rewritten

The wait was long but needed. People had to be seen and things had to get done. He picked up the flimsy magazine. The pages, wrinkled and out dated, He wondered if it would entertain him until his appointment. Countless, headlines told of politics which he hated. He hastily sprawled through the glossy pages and finally came to an advertisement about some elegant perfume. There was a peel and sniff. He peeled but he didn't get any aroma--the useless thing.
People were seated all around him. He could hear the chatter of a high school cafeteria mixed with the false hope of the nurse coming out and then calling someone else's name. Ugh, he groaned. He decided to scan the room. About ninety percent of them were preoccupied with their smart phones. The rest were making chit chat with the people adjacent of them. You can learn a lot from people by listening to their conversations. Even by the tone of their voice, you can get a vague impression.
One lady was talking about her dog and how he wouldn't shut up while she was still trying to get rest before she had to wake up. Another was pleading for her son to stay still.
Things still did not become interesting. He decided to doze off--little did Clef know about the dream I was to embark on...

(Transition scene into fantasy)

He glanced at the fragile bird. It was as black as the night it reflected. It wasn't odd that a crow appeared on the tree branch beside him. It was odd that it was the only bird not in the swarming flock above him.

He tried to piece together what he was seeing. The swarm was getting more and more dense. he could no longer see the sun and soon, the sky became night, although it was still in the midday. He was scared but he wasn't alone. He saw a little girl who had to be about eight to ten years old hiding under the slide. It was orange with graffiti all over it. He stepped closer and then, instinctively sprinted to her aide. he asked what her name was. she wouldn't tell him but instead cried aloud. she shouted that they took her father. He pondered for a minute. Who took her father?  It couldn't have been the swarm. They were just birds--ordinary crows. He looked over to the naked tree. The crow was still there, staring at him and the girl, curious. The girl had explained to him that the swarm was hungry and that her father gave himself up to spare her. He told her to stay hidden and wait for help. Help that, as coincidence promised, had just arrived.

As we all know, it was the raven that cried nevermore but the crow? What did it say? It’s eyes were glossy and they reminded Clef of the bottom of a tinted wine bottle. The feathers were a poor disguise for its brittle body. Lastly, the feet, which one would easily describe as hideously crooked like the oddly sprouted branches of a bonsai tree. But in all this woe and awe, Clef, a curious and lanky fellow, saw but a small sliver of hope in finding the little girl’s father with the hunch that the crow on the ash-colored tree branch could be of use. After the swarm left but before the crow could wander, Clef grabbed the frail bird and took the girl’s hand to seek shelter.

They eventually found a place to rest under a bridge’s underpass. A few clouds turned thick and murky and as drops of cold and clear liquid fell from the sky, they were safe and the swarm was gone. Cracks within the concrete underside of the bridge passively let moisture accumulate and trickle down. They have a source of water.

What they say is true: Food, shelter and water are the only true needs of a human being--all the rest are just luxuries--yet they have no food and the cold turkey from fortune was getting stale. Crow now appeared to be on both of their mind’s. The storm won’t last forever and it seemed that the swarm had to feed again soon to sustain their flock.

(How to tell if you are dead. ...

Trigger a memory, from Clefs childhood

Building a tree house or fort with his late father

Add phrase, will the branch hold up the fort

Of course son, you know you are in a strong shelter because the branch is thick and the walls are sturdy...

Triggered by the girl asking if the bridge would protect them from the swarm)

Clef dozed off in resorption of energy. His mind began to wander...

Clef, 9 year old Clef, surrounded by his childhood backyard, and holding a ladder across from his father looked upwards at what would be a tree house of which he would call his secret fort. His father then climbed the latter to hammer in the last of nails. Clef asked, "Will the fort hold up in a storm," to which his father replied, "of course son, do you see that thick branch," he pointed "you know the fort will hold in the toughest of storms because it's a load beating branch, it is crucial to the foundation. (REVISE)